“Ooh! I do,” Alina blurts, then covers her mouth, pink staining her cheeks.
I don’t even bother trying to stop my grin as I cup her neck possessively with one hand and kiss her temple.
Kael raises his eyebrows at the gesture, and I roll my eyes at him. Then, he gives a lazy half-salute.
“Kael, Lord of Water. This is Phoebe, my better half.”
Phoebe grins.
“Hey. I hear you like rocks. I like sinking ships in a controlled manner. We should hang.”
Alina nods enthusiastically. Then her attention moves to Thorne.
He inclines his head respectfully, eyes assessing but not unkind.
“Thorne, Lord of Fire. You have met my temper already, but this is my heart—Delia.”
Delia nudges him.
“Smooth. Hi. I also used to be normal and confused and under-caffeinated, so if you need someone to complain to, I am your girl.”
Color warms Alina’s cheeks.
“Thank you. I’m, um, Alina Fawcett,” she says. “Geologist. Occasional over-thinker. Very new to all this.” Her grip on my hand tightens briefly. “But I’m trying to catch up.”
“And you’re doing beautifully,” I say quietly, just for her.
She glances up at me, and something in her gaze says she hears the words beneath mine.
I will never be sure I deserve this woman.
But when she stands at my side as we leave the chamber—when the doors of The Barrow open and the scent of turned earth and new seed rushes in, and the gathered people of the Marches fall silent as they see us together—I know this much.
Today, I will stand before my lands as Lord of Earth.
Not alone.
Never again alone.
I’ll stand with my viyella at my side.
With my brothers and their bonds at our backs.
The Sowing Feast waits.
The blessing waits.
The war waits.
But for the first time since the Prime fell, I do not feel like a single wall between worlds and annihilation.
We started as four.
But with Alina’s hand in mine, the Marches under my feet, and the zareth burning sure and bright between us, I know we are more than that.
We are eight now.
And this is when I start to believe we might actually win.
