Lowe kissed her, deeply. Resting his forehead against hers, he murmured, “You’ll conquer the world.”
Calya smirked. “Baby steps. Andrin thought it would take three years to mold me into a proper businesswoman.” She bared her teeth in a smile. “In three years, Helm Naval will face acquisitions, or fold.”
Lowe kissed her again. “You scare the fuck out of me.” Then he leaned back, worry in his eyes when he said, hesitantly, “You’re sure about this? Living here… you could be happy? With me?”
Calya bit her lip and took a step back, shoulders hunching. He was the first man she’d felt any real attachment toward, any sentimentality. She had it and believed it to be true, but she knew she was not suddenly changed. Lady Heartless might have a few shards left in her chest, but was that enough? Was she, she who had only so much in her to give?
“I lied to you before,” she said softly, finally meeting his gaze. “I’ll never love you back.”
Lowe froze, face going pale.
“Not the way you deserve.” She caressed his face again, her lips forming a sad smile. “I am still ambitious. Reckless, or ruthless. More than anything, I am selfish. In whatever is left in me that resembles a heart, I will struggle to keep you first, as you should be.”
She pressed her lips to his. “I will never love you back. Not the way you deserve,” she repeated. “But I will want you, every day. You can trust in that.”
Lowe stared at her. Closed his eyes in a long, slow blink. Then he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his chest as his entire body shook with a laugh, one full of relief.
“I’ll love you enough for the both of us,” he vowed before his mouth was upon hers. Calya’s lips parted, and it was all the encouragement he needed. His tongue swept in, and a shiver of delight ran up her spine at the taste of him. Of this ranger who wanted her, embraced her with all her thorns.
They might have stood there at the lakeside forever, oblivious to the world… until the world pushed back in. A scattered shower of heavier, concentrated rain slanted sideways at them.
Lowe raised his hand, a gust of wind saving them from the worst of the drenching.
Calya waved in exasperation at the sky. “I did you a favor! I’m staying. Get used to it.”
The lake surged, a low wave splashing them both up to the knees. In only the spot where they stood on the rocky beach.
Calya glared at Lowe, who raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s not too late to go for a water mage instead of a diviner.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered. She started away from the lake, then turned to him. “So, where do you live?”
He laughed, the sound rich and joyous. It sent a warmth through Calya that filled her chest and settled, that sense of rightness becoming a background presence in her head.
He held out his hand. Taken aback, she blinked at it. At him. Then, feeling just a touch charmed by the novelty, she slid her palm into his and let him guide her back to town.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
The sun was setting as Nocren’s ship approached the harbor in Talihn, the capital of the kingdom of Rhell. He leaned against the ship’s railing, watching as the grand city grew larger. A steady churn of movement along the docks resolved from mere specks on the horizon into identifiable shapes of people going about their business. Clean streets led away from the harbor, disappearing amongst the city’s buildings. Though the palace was a bit farther inland, the dockside homes and businesses were made in the same vein of white and gray stone with shingle roofs and trim in red or dark gold that seemed more stately than outright colorful.
The architecture gave the impression of age, not unlike the Valley of Sylveren’s Renstown or the University, but with an added sense of elegance. Of legacy. In Nocren’s head, Talihn had an air of busyness that felt gilded in formality, where Renstown felt busy like work. And whether the implied fussiness was real or Nocren’s own bias, who could say? Neither had the comfort of Sylvan, nor the sense of wisdom surrounding the school.
But they were a damn sight better than the clamor that was Grae Port, and Nocren would much rather be chasing after Calya here, surrounded by a people who at least knew they were mildly elitist by default. Better than the Graelynders, who knew they were brash to an aggravating degree and leaned into it. Somehow, he’d let his heart be caught by one of them.
Let. Nocren huffed softly to himself, letting his eyes close as he lifted his face to catch the wind whirling around him. There was no letting when it came to Calya. Those brief, bitter moments when he’d tried to deny the hold she had on him… at least they were in the past. He knew better now, and thankfully hadn’t fucked it all up in the process. Thank the Eternal Wind for that.
Nocren opened his eyes, gaze automatically going to the figures moving about the docks, alert for a particular brunette head or a familiar dark red tunic. She wouldn’t be there, of course; she didn’t even know he was here already, two days earlier than planned, with her coveted documents in hand. He pressed a hand against the small bag lashed to his shoulder holster, reassuring himself that it—and its contents—were still there: an official copy of the contract granting access along Valley waterways in an exclusive partnership between the Sentinels and Calya’s new company. Her as yet unnamed company. He wondered if she’d made any progress on that front.
The wind swirled around his head, a phantom caress against his face, before reverting back to the dull roar and haphazard buffeting that characterized the element. No impressions pressed against his mind; his magic remained quiet beneath his skin.
It had been doing that lately. Growing quieter. Not weakening, but being more… selective, asserting a sense of autonomy and opinion that had only made itself known in small doses until now. Before Calya had come into his life. Barged in, more like. Staked her claim and dared him—dared anyone—to resist. To question her decision.
As if he would ever do such a thing. Which was a disquieting thought for a man who’d intentionally been alone for so long, beholden to no one. Solitude wasn’t something he’d had to grow accustomed to, either; he’d chosen it. Had felt most comfortable and at ease without any of the anchors that came with relationships. The camaraderie Nocren had through his Sentinel work had been enough. He’d wanted for nothing.
Perhaps it was fitting, then—was almost like fate—that he’d stumbled into a woman who had been the same. In her, Nocren found he could want more in his life and would rearrange anything to make space for it to work.
Yet, when he thought about it, he’d changed so little in the preceding months. Certainly, his life had changed. Though he kept a room in the Sentinels’ barracks, he’d moved into a suite of rooms Calya had found in Renstown and more often than not commuted daily via windrunner rather than staying at the barracks—even when Calya was away on business, as she’d been often in the first few months since their adventures at Desmond’s Landing. Sometimes, he accompanied her, such as when they’d done the final assessment for the Sentinels’ patrol route and established an official headquarters in the Landing. But he despised the hectic compaction that was Grae Port, so aside from when his testimony was required in the trial against the Coalition and Avenor, Nocren happily stayed home.
