I sink onto the stone bench at the garden’s center, the one that’s worn smooth from centuries of use. The fountain burbles softly nearby, its water somehow unfrozen despite the cold. Moonlight catches the petals of the fire lilies, making them glow with inner warmth.
“She’s here,” I say to the silence, the way I’ve said a thousand things to it over the years. “She’s alive. She doesn’t remember me, but she’s alive.”
The moonflowers don’t answer. They never do. But something in me loosens at the admission—at finally saying the words out loud to something other than the darkness in my own head.
“She laughed tonight. Selene made her laugh.” A breath that’s almost a laugh itself. “And I thought—maybe. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe I won’t be too late.”
The fear is there too, coiled beneath the hope. Fear that she’ll never remember. Fear that she will, and it won’t be enough. Fear that I’ll fail her again, somehow, the way I failed her centuries ago.
I stay until dawn begins to lighten the sky, the stars fading one by one as the horizon shifts from black to gray to pale gold. Then I rise, brush the dew from my clothes, and prepare to face whatever comes next.
TEN
ZYPHON
Ishould have known breakfast would be a disaster.
All three of my brothers are waiting when I enter the hall. Drayke at the head of the table, formal as ever, a cup of tea steaming beside his untouched plate. Auren with a book open beside his meal, though his attention is clearly elsewhere. And Rurik, sprawled in his chair with a grin that immediately puts me on edge.
“Good morning, brother.” Rurik’s voice is far too cheerful for this hour. “Sleep well?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. You’ve got that haunted look. More than usual, I mean.” He kicks out the chair beside him in invitation. “Sit. Eat. We need to talk about your love life.”
“We absolutely do not.”
“We absolutely do.” Rurik leans forward, his golden eyes gleaming with unholy enthusiasm. “See, I’ve been thinking?—“
“Dangerous.”
“—and I’ve realized that as the only successfully mated dragon in this room who didn’t require a prophecy or a kidnapping to get there, I’m uniquely qualified to offer romantic guidance.”
Drayke chokes on his tea. “You threatened to burn down half a continent to find Aisling.”
“And it worked.” Rurik spreads his hands. “Results, brother. Results.”
“Your ‘results’ almost getting yourself killed along with the rest of us.”
“Minor details. The point is, Aisling and I are disgustingly happy, which means I know what I’m talking about.” Rurik turns back to me, undeterred. “First piece of advice: grand gestures. Women love grand gestures. You should do something dramatic. Sweep her off her feet. Maybe fight something impressive in front of her—show her you can protect her.”
“She tried to kill me three days ago.”
“Exactly! Passion! You’re halfway there already.” Rurik beams as if this is encouraging news. “The line between wanting to kill someone and wanting to kiss them is very thin. Trust me. Aisling threatened to gut me at least twice before she admitted she liked me.”
“That’s the worst advice I’ve ever heard,” Drayke says flatly.
“You have better?”
Drayke sets down his teacup with careful precision. “Patience. Show her you’re willing to wait. Don’t push. Don’t hover. Let her come to you when she’s ready.”
“That’s what he’s been doing for three hundred years,” Rurik points out. “How’s that working out?”
“She was dead.”
“Still counts.”
I look to Auren, hoping for something resembling sanity. He finally sets down his book, giving the conversation his full attention. His expression suggests he finds the entire discussion mildly distasteful but can’t resist participating anyway.
