He must see the storm behind my eyes, because he smiles faintly, brushing his thumb along my wrists. “You don’t have to answer now. I’m doing this to prove my faith in you.”
Tears spill over. Just as he begins to rise, I blurt, “Yes!”
I throw my arms around him and kiss him breathless.
“I love you,” he whispers against my mouth, guiding me gently toward the bed.
I hesitate.
“I just want to hold you,” he explains, his voice breaking.
My answer is a trembling nod.
He draws me into his arms, tucking me beneath his chin as if I’m something precious. “Sleep now,” he murmurs. “You’ll need every ounce of your strength tomorrow.”
Cradled against his chest, I listen to the steady rhythm of his heart, letting the warmth of his body—and the promise in his arms—carry me toward a fragile peace before dawn.
I awake in the night from yet another nightmare, skin damp, heart pounding. Keiren is sound asleep beside me, his arm draped across my waist. I slip from the bed, moving silently so as not to wake him.
The chamber is dim, every candle low, shadows flickering across the walls like restless ghosts. I stop before the hearth, drawn to its warmth. The flames dance around the coals, golden and crimson and alive.
Fire.
A nickname. A terror. And yet also warmth. Heat. Life. How something can both give life and end it in the same breath is beyond me.
I brace myself against the stone mantle, stretching against the ache in my spine.
The wall feels oddly hollow beneath my fingertips. My nail catches on something—a faint seam hidden within the carved ivy. Pulse quickening, I press gently, and a panel groans open to reveal a narrow niche in the stone.
Inside, a thick, leather-bound volume stamped with Keiren’s seal rests on a bed of dusty velvet.
My hands tremble as I lift it free and sink onto the hearth bench. The cover bears no title. I open the first page—and freeze.
Spring, 304 A.C.
The Bloodmoon hangs low, heavy with regret. The dragon brought me the girls who survived the flight. One was… different… than I am used to. Her voice is like bells, her laughter like sunrise. She listened to my story while I tended her wounds. She said her name is Talia.
304 A.C.
Talia is pure sunshine, all laughter and joy. We walked through the gardens after dinner, and she told me of her home and the family she left behind. The first Trial begins tomorrow night. I fear what she will face.
304 A.C.
Against all odds, she survived the first Trial. We celebrated with a feast and dancing. I walked her to her room and kissed her cheek goodnight. I awoke to the sound of her screaming. I held her all night as she wept and told me the horrors of what she’d seen. I was a fool to think the Trial hadn’t scarred her. I should never have left her side. I never will again.
Summer, 304 A.C.
Talia kissed me in the gardens tonight. She passed the second Trial yesterday, and I couldn’t be happier. It’s wonderful to finally, finally not beso alone. She dares to love the monster within. I believe, after all this time, she may finally break the curse.
Fall, 304 A.C.
If she survives the final Trial, I will ask her to marry me, curse or no curse. I love her.
304 A.C.
She did it! She won. Today, we wed.
304 A.C.
