His eyes dart away, suddenly shy. I understand why he’s worried: this was the trip I’d told him about in honor of my father, and he still doesn’t know if I’d want to take it with him.
But just the fact that he remembered what I told him, that he arranged all of this so he could help me, that’s enough for me to know what I want.
“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I say, tears in my eyes. I lean forward and kiss him softly on the lips. “I only want to go if it’s with you.”
He smiles so brightly he’s glowing. “Come on,” he says, leading down the ramp.
We spend hours sorting through the volumes, unfurling great scrolls of maps onto a wide table exclusively for that purpose until late into the night. Ronan takes notes in an elegant script, filling a blank book with ideas, references, and even rough sketches of some of the things I wish to see.
“It says there’s a statue of an octopus covering a woman’s breasts. And it’s thirty feet high,” I say, holding out a book to show him.
“Well,thatI have to see. Should we add Larunia back then?”
“We better.”
I love the “we.” I’m not sure where we were in the world—somewhere past Brakkar but not yet to Velmora—when we started saying it, butwehaven’t been able to stop since.
He looks up and gives me a shy smile when he sees me watching him. And it’s such a small thing, just a tiny, fleeting moment, one of thousands since we’ve met, but something about it breaks me in half.
I love him, I realize suddenly. I’ve known it, I’ve felt it, but looking at him, the sleep in his eyes, the barely suppressed yawn on his lips as he keeps going, unable to stop himself from giving me what I want, I can’t deny it any longer. I let the thoughts take form, let them take shape in my mind, wrapping myself around them. Rebuilding myself with them into something better than I was.
I love him. I want nothing but him.
But there are other thoughts taking shape as well. Guilty thoughts full of shame and regret.
I love him, but I don’t deserve him. How can I wash away the stain of what we came here to do? What my family is still trying to do to him, to his people? Even if I can stop it, how could I ever look at him and think I’m worthy of him? Worthy to be his queen?
A queen that conspired to wage a war against her people.
He has stopped writing, sensing my feelings.
When he gets a look at my face, he stands immediately and rushes to where I stand against the map table, holding my head in his hands. Tears spring into my eyes at his touch. I clamp my mouth shut and try not to cry.
“Hey,” he says softly, pulling me to him. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t deserve you,” I choke out through sobs. The gentleness of his hands, the warmth of his voice. It makes me sob even harder, clinging to his chest, my body shaking.
“Hey,” he says again. “It’s okay. Look at me, Sylvie.”
I can’t. I can’t look at him. I’m not good enough for him.
“Sylvie,” he says, gently but firmly. He lifts my chin until I’m looking into his eyes. “Do you have any idea how rare you are? How few people there in the world like you? Do you know how many people deny what they see with their own eyes? Do you know how many of them refuse to see the truth even when it’s right in front of them?
“You were raised to believe one thing, and your parents weren’t wrong to teach it to you. They were survivors. They were fighters. Though I disagree with their methods, I can’t fault them for what they did for the sake of your people. But for you to be able to come here with an open mind and an open heart, to find it in yourself to get to know me, to trust me, to find another path forward for us? That’s rare, Sylvie. That’s remarkable.
“You are remarkable. You are everything I’ve ever wanted, more than I ever even thought to dream of. It has been the greatest privilege of my life getting to know you. Sharingeverything with you, sharing my gift. Showing you myself in a way no one ever has ever known me before. I never thought I would get to experience that.
“Every day since you’ve been here, you’ve surprised me. You’ve shocked me. You’ve humbled me. You’ve made me feel like life is worth living. You’ve made me feel like the vision I have of the world is achievable. It’s possible. I see it reflected in your beauty. I see it in your giving heart.”
He wipes the tears from my eyes as I look at him. I want to believe him, but I know the truth about myself.
“Do you know what my version of this would be?” He gestures around the room. “The thing I want the most in the world, what you could do to make it happen for me?”
I shake my head.
“It’s this. It’s exactly this. It’s giving you what you want. It’s making you happy. If you asked me what I would do if I had one day left to live, my answer would be whateveryouwant to do. There are many things that I want in this world, that I wantforthis world. But there isnothingthat I want more than that.”
I can’t hold myself together. I fall apart, collapsing against his chest as he holds me. I let the guilt and the grief of deceiving him out. I let his comfort, his light, in.
