Iturned in a slow circle, gazing at the stone floor worn smooth by centuries of boots and ambition. And there it was. The crooked “R” I’d scorched into the stone in a moment of defiance. The day I’d bled, cursed, and tried so hard not to fall in love with the infuriating man standing beside me.
With my index finger raised, I created lightning at the tip.
Lore tilted his head, watching me with a lazy, lopsided grin. “Reyla. If you’re planning to brand me again, at least kiss me one last time first.”
I snorted. “You’re impossible.”
He shrugged. “You married me. Twice, I’ll point out. You’re carrying our child.”
Adaughter. I wouldn’t believe anything else.
Lightning danced from my fingertip as I crouched beside the etched R and added the lines carefully, steadying my hand despite the crackle of raw power building beneath my skin. A loop, a slash, and a flourish that trailed like a ribbon. The stonesizzled as the heart took shape beside the letter. To the right of the R, I carved an unmistakable, looping I..
I sat back on my heels and stared at it.
R L
“Very subtle,” Lore drawled, but his voice was thick with tenderness. “You do realize that now I’ll have to write a poem about it.”
“Please don’t,” I said, still looking at the heart. Our heart that meant everything.
I would not use this room as a nursery.
“Tell me you’re not going to rhyme ‘heart’ with ‘fart,” I added.
Lore made a wounded sound. “I have more range than that, wife.”
I turned toward him, finding moonlight catching the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Do you remember when you told me I’d carve an L into the floor?”
“I remember everything I said in this tower,” he said, stretching out to lean against the nearby wall, his elbow braced on the stone, and his head tilted like a curious chall. “I also recall you threatening to list my finest qualities until I cried.”
“Youdidcry. You just disguised it as a battle grimace.”
“I do give excellent battle grimaces.” He flashed one for demonstration, letting it soften. “I was taunting you. I didn’t think you’d actually carve it.”
I shrugged. “Well. I didn’t think I’d marry you twice, so we’re both full of surprises.”
Stooping down in front of me, he traced the R with his finger. “You always had power in your hands, Wildfire. I just didn’t know you’d use it to mark the place we became real.”
The truth of that settled between us like dust in sunlight. No more illusions, no more courtly dances of strategy and sabotage.Just us. Lovers. Parents-to-be. An R and an L scorched into stone beside each other.
“I used to hate you in this room,” I said quietly.
“I know. I used to hate me, too.”
Startled, I looked up at him, but he wasn’t smiling. “You don’t anymore?”
“I’m trying not to,” he said. “You’ve made it harder, at least. You make me feel like I’m more than a wretched king on borrowed time. Like I’m someone worth carving a letter for.”
My throat went tight. “You’re worth more than letters. I’d rewrite the sky for you if I could.”
He grinned, his grin wolfish, his eyes too bright. “But you started with the floor. Very practical. I like that.”
I rolled my eyes and scooted over to kneel beside him, resting my head on his arm.
The “R” and “L” glowed, a scar in the stone that would never fade. Like us.
Forged in storm. Etched in fire.
