His heartrate quickens. “Oh,zylnala,” he groans.
“I know you can’t,” I say quickly, and give my head a little shake. “I’m not asking you to break your vow. I just . . .wish.That’s all. What harm is there in wishing?”
He tilts my chin back, looking down at me like a man half-starved. A wind picks up from across the plains, blowing long strands of his black hair across his forehead, and the firelight shines deep in his eyes. “The long hours of this day were endless torture,” he says, one hand softly cupping my cheek.
I lean into his palm. “Would you like to come sit with us?” I offer. “Halamar and Sylcatha are keeping me positively in stitches with their witty banter.”
Taar’s brow lowers. “Really?”
“No. Not even a little bit.” I roll my eyes. “Don’t you know these people at all?”
He laughs, shaking his head down at me. Then, still holding me close against his side, he turns and speaks to the two silent warriors in rapid Licornyn. Halamar nods obligingly. Sylcatha looks grim and displeased.
“What did you say to them?” I demand.
“I told them I’m stealing you away for a little while. But I’ve promised to bring you back well and whole.”
My heart leaps with sudden joy. “Oh, Taar! Where are you stealing me away to?”
“Not far. Just far enough.”
With this enigmatic statement, he swoops me off my feet and boosts me into Elydark’s saddle. It feels strange; I’ve not ridden Elydark since bonding with Diira. But when Taar mounts behind me and pulls my back against his chest, it feels so familiar and so right. Diira falls into pace beside us as Taar guides Elydark out into the night-cast landscape of wild Cruor. Suddenly this blighted world, though perilous, feels beautiful to me.
We ride up a small hill overlooking the encampment. There are no trees for miles, nothing to see under that swath of stars save the campfires and shifting shadows of the Licornyn people down below. It all feels so peaceful at this distance, though I know thevardimnarcould erupt at any time and shatter this peace into screams of horror. But I feel so safe in Taar’s arms, with Elydark and Diira here with us.
Taar dismounts and gently lifts me down from the saddle. I wonder, wildly, wishfully, if he will take me in his arms and ravish me here and now. Oh, how I wish he would! We are so far from everyone—who could possibly know?
But Taar takes his vows seriously, blight him. He simply pulls me close again, resting my cheek on his heart and his chin on the top of my head. He breathes me in deep and exhales slowly. “There now,” he says. “That is the air my lungs have craved these long hours.”
I snuggle in close, relishing the size and strength of this man who has chosen so inexplicably to love me. How many times over these last few days of drudgerous riding have I told myselfthat I would release him from this marriage comesilmael?How many times have I convinced myself that our parting is inevitable, necessary even? Now, as I listen to the beat of his heart once more, I know all those convincing mental arguments were utterly pointless. I will choose him. I must choose him. Yes, I may suffer the consequences of isolation and ultimate rejection. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is to be his and to know that he is mine.
“How many nights untilsilmael?”I ask, my voice tight.
“Seven,” Taar answers without hesitation, and presses his mouth against the top of my head.
“So long!” I whimper.
“So long,” he agrees. Then he pushes me back from him just enough that he can look down at my face, lit only by starlight. My human eyes struggle to discern much of his features, but I know hisibrildiangaze reads every trace expression. I wonder if he will kiss me then. I could make him—I want to make him. A single look, a whimper of sound, and he would fall upon me with a hunger only I can satisfy. I crave that hunger of his so much, it hurts!
Instead I drop my gaze and turn my head to look out over the encampment once more. “What are your intentions then, warlord, in bringing me out all this way?”
“No intentions,” he admits. “Just the need to be with you.”
He takes my hand and leads me to a swath of thick grass. There he sits and pulls me down beside him. We lie back, and I tuck my body under his arm, my head resting on his shoulder. Together we stareup at the sky. The stars are closer here than they are in my world—so close I can almost see the moving halo of light swirling around their burning centers, can almost discern their unique colors.
“Do you see that star,zylnala?”Taar asks, pointing to a bright orb burning straight overhead. I nod. “And there,” he adds, extending his arm in an arc, tracing out a constellation. “Those nine together. They form the constellation of Ianletha, the firstmaelarof Licorna, Mahra’s first heart-bound rider. It is said the souls of all the queens of Licorna are gathered into her heart-star, joining their songs with hers in an eternal hymn of protection over our world.”
“Ianletha,” I whisper. Then: “Maelar.”
“Someday,” Taar says, “your soul will join with those stars. And your voice will ring across the heavens for all eternity.”
My throat tightens against a rising sob, too thick to form any sort of an answer. Part of me is angry that he would say such a thing, knowing as he does that I can never be hismaelar. That he will have to pick another one day, and it is her soul which shall sing with his foremothers, not mine. But he speaks with such confidence, such conviction, as though he has seen a future I dare not even imagine.
“Will you tell me something, Ilsevel?” he says suddenly, turning his head to look down at me.
“What do you need to know?” I ask, tilting my chin to look up and catch his eye.
He chuckles softly at the expression on my face and pressesme a little closer to his side. “Your favorite childhood memory.”
