Tighter.
“Say it, Oona,” I murmur. “For me.”
Her smile is small and fierce.
“I love you, Dagan,” she says steadily. “Lord of Earth. Warden of the Rooted Marches. My foundation. My home.”
The Marches hum.
A low, deep, pleased sound.
“C’mere,” I growl.
Then, I kiss her.
Not like the desperate crush of mouths at the fault line earlier, when fear drove my hands.
This time it is intentional. A claim and a promise and a prayer all at once.
She melts into me, fingers tangling in my hair, drawing me down.
Somewhere, villagers are cheering. Or praying. Or just staring.
I don’t care.
When we finally pull apart, both of us are shaking—not from power, but from everything that has shifted inside us.
“You need rest,” I say roughly. “We both do. The node will hold—for now. Varen can oversee the temporary reinforcements.”
“You’re going to be a nightmare to work with now that I agreed I love you, aren’t you?” she teases weakly.
“Yes,” I say without apology. “With me now.”
Chapter 12
Dagan
Stone’s Edge
Adrenaline rushes through my veins like molten lava cutting through rock.
I lift Alina easily, one arm under her knees, the other around her back.
She squeaks and then wraps her arms around my neck, head resting against my shoulder.
“I’m too heavy,” she protests, and I glare at her which has my wicked little viyella rolling her gorgeous eyes at me.
A win for sure, if I ever had one.
The ring of stone we raised stands around the village like a new wall.
Beyond it, the Marches roll out in waves of green and gold and stone, calm—for now.
As I carry her back toward the shelter they’ve set aside for us, I feel the bond pulsing between us.
Not a chain.
A root system.
