Something deep that I have not allowed myself to name.
I trail my thumbs along her jaw, memorizing the shape of her.
“We can stop,” I say, the words scraping my throat raw. “If you wish. The vow is done. The land has heard. I will not press you farther this night.”
Her answer is to slide her hands up into my hair, tug me closer, and kiss me like she intends to erase any distance that has ever stood between us.
When she pulls back, her eyes are bright.
“And if I don’t want you to stop?” she asks, voice low and sure.
“What do you want, Oona? Tell me,” I growl, almost afraid to ask.
“I want this. You. All of it.” A tiny, crooked smile tugs at her mouth. “Just, uh, it’s been a while for me. So, um, maybe go easy on the bed. Or the tree. Or the realm. I’m still new at this.”
A laugh breaks out of me—sharp, surprised, and utterly genuine.
The first in longer than I can remember.
“The elder tree will survive,” I promise, easing her back into the grass as the tree’s blossoms drift down around us like stars. “As long as we do.”
The roots beneath us pulse their agreement.
And for the first time since the Prime fell, the Marches do not feel like a weight I bear alone.
They feel like a future.
One we will hold together.
Chapter 7
Alina
Beneath the Elder Tree, The Barrow
The first thing I notice is his hands.
Strong. Callused. Careful.
They cradle my face like I’m something precious, not just the girl from Jersey who fell into a Demon world’s apocalypse.
“Alina,” he murmurs against my lips, like a prayer and a vow all at once.
My name in his voice does something wild to the air around us.
The earth seems to lean closer, the hum under my spine deepening as the purple grass cradles me, cushioning my back.
Soft white blossoms drift down from the elder tree overhead, glowing faintly as they land in my hair, on my shoulders, on his broad chest.
My heart is hammering.
Part fear. Mostly anticipation.
Because I know what this is.
The ceremony is technically done.
I said yes. The land answered.
