Bard. That was all their time gone. If they washed and changed quickly, they could get downstairs in time for dinner. But there would be no nap.
Ramiel looked them up and down, seeming to take in their lack of boots, dirty, rumpled clothes, and weary faces for the first time. “Sorry for interrupting,” he said in a gruff voice.
Tor pulled her closer and she leaned into him. “We understand. You needed to know. We’ll clean up and meet you down there.”
“I am genuinely sorry for disturbing you both.” Ramiel tilted his head to the side as he watched her. “You do look exhausted.”
Keely tried to give him a reassuring smile, but she was so tired that it came out as more of a grimace. Tor’s arm tightened, his hand circling round to settle protectively on the side of her belly.
Ramiel glanced down, and then immediately looked back up, his eyes flashing speculatively. He looked between them for a moment, and then, for the first time since he’d come into their room, he almost smiled. “Well. You need some time to rest. And… ah… if there’s any happy news, or you want someone to officiate at any ceremonies, of any kind, I’d be honored.”
Beside her, Keely felt Tor go completely stiff, his voice strained and tense as he replied, “Thank you, that is… uh… kind of you.”
Notyes please, orI haven’t talked to Keely yet. Notwe’ll let you knowormaybe one day. Just a deeply uncomfortable thank-you. Damn.
She hardly heard the final words as Tor said goodbye to Ramiel and let him out of their room, quietly locking the door behind him.
Why had Ramiel’s offer made Tor so uncomfortable? He was always with her, touching her, delighted to be a family. Excited about the baby. Protective of them both. She knew that. So why had a casual offer made him so uneasy? She could still feel the tension shivering through him.
Old instincts suggested she walk away and get some space to shake off this sudden stab of hurt. Get some fresh air and maybe some perspective. If Tor still didn’t trust her, what hope was there for them?
But she had learned her lesson the painful way. She knew that walking out of their room would be the worst mistake she could make. Instead, she let out the breath she was holding and sank into her armchair. She didn’t run, not anymore.
Tor took one look at her and strode across the room to her side. Without saying a word, he bent down to lift her into his arms and then carried her to the bed. He lowered her gently onto the blankets and then climbed beside her, bending his elbow to prop his head on his palm while he looked down at her. Then, with slow deliberation, he laid his heavy leg over her thighs, pinning her down.
“What are you doing?” she asked quietly.
“I told you,” he stated firmly, “this is how we are going to have all our discussions. I need to know you can’t run, and you need to know I want you here. This works the best for everyone.”
“I wasn’t running,” she whispered.
“But part of you wanted to,” he replied. “Tell me why.”
She ran her hand over her burning eyes. Damn baby-tears. “I felt you get all uncomfortable when Ramiel suggested a ceremony, and I wanted… I mean, not immediately. Bard.” She swallowed. “Maybe, one day, eventually, I guess I thought….” She let her sentence fade away.
He smiled down at her. “I want that too. One day. Eventually.”
“Want what?”
“Marriage. Oaths. Binding our lives together formally, forever.”
“Okay….” That was intense. And didn’t make any sense. “Then why…?”
His smile slowly faded. “In Apollyon culture, before a couple marries, they create a symbol together based on the tattoos on their arms. It’s an important ceremony that joins the heritage of their two families and adds what they’ve built themselves. That new tattoo is something unique, special, to them. It’s the basis for the markings each of their children will take when they reach sixteen.” He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “On the night before the wedding, the symbol is tattooed on the bride and groom, just above their hearts.”
He looked down at her, his eyes dark and sad. “You probably already know that when an Apollyon brings their fist to their heart, they’re recognizing the person they’re saluting as their family, as deeply important to them…. Every time a married person brings their fist up to their chest, they’re acknowledging their chosen life partner. Testifying to their shared connection, to the new family that they’ve created together.”
She blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “That’s beautiful.”
“It is.” His voice softened as his lips turned down sadly. “But I no longer have a family. I can’t claim any heritage. I literally have nothing to offer you—not even my half of the symbol.”
Oh Bard. She reached up to smooth away the lines between his brows. “Tor, you’re enough exactly as you are. Just you, that’s all I want.” She looked into his dark eyes and told him the rest. “I love you.”
His breath caught, and his fingers stilled on her cheek as he watched her. “You love me?”
“I love you, Tor,” she repeated. “And I want you exactly as you are. We can create our own symbol together, something different, for our family.” She smiled. “Maybe even use a little Verturian green.”
His fingers trembled against her skin as he leaned down to whisper, “I love you too.” His face grew even more serious. “No one else has ever said those words to me before.”
