Beneath us, I heard Bet mutter a gruff, “It’s about time,” even as Tris leaned in and bumped his shoulder, giving him a chiding look. Perhaps to remind him that if the stories were to be believed, Tris had been forced to find his dragon form for the first time and leap to catch the man from falling to his death before Bet had admitted his love for his own dragon.
I was rather grateful Roland hadn’t made me work so hard to prove my worth to him. If anything, he had been more convinced of my worth than I had.
It took some time for Roland to clear the courtyard enough so that he was comfortable with me shifting, and he immediately pushed his coat onto my shoulders when I did.
Fortunately or not, the first person there to greet me was my own brother. I ducked my head, biting my lip and not able to meet his eye. “Hafgan.”
“After what happened?” he asked, his tone dubious as he shot Roland a little glare, as though somehow the situation was suspicious. Like maybe I was being pressured into this.
I supposed it was possible, since who could ever say no to a king who wanted to marry him? Except that I could. It would embarrass Roland if I backed out and said I couldn’t possibly marry him, but I didn’t think for a moment that he would try to pressure me into it.
Because Roland loved me just as much as I loved him, and the biggest part of love was wanting the person you loved to be happy.
And that, more than anything made me turn my head up to meet my brother’s doubtful gaze. “After anything, Hafgan. Or everything. You understand. Bowen attacked Brynaf and took you prisoner, but you would never hold it against him.”
“Indeed,” Bowen agreed, stepping forward to wrap an arm around Hafgan when my brother looked like he might protest. “We are all allowed to decide what is forgivable and what isn’t, for ourselves. I, for one, have always thought His Majesty an excellent fellow who would do anything for his people. A kindred spirit, even.”
Roland’s eyes went a little wide at the comment, and he inclined his head. “You do me honor, Bowen of the Stone and Wind Clans. I cannot imagine what I would do when put in the difficult situations you’ve found yourself in over your centuries. I can only aspire to your wisdom.”
Bowen chuckled. “Never that, Majesty. Always aspire to better. I know you’re capable of it, or our little bird wouldn’t love you.”
“Better,” Roland agreed. “What we should all aspire to.”
Bowen nodded back, then reached out to squeeze my shoulder with one hand, and Roland’s with the other. “Every day. Better. For each other, as well as the rest of the world.”
And I couldn’t think of a single worthier goal than that.
31
ROLAND
Hafgan glared at me when he walked Aderyn to the altar where we made our vows. All I could do was nod and hope that he understood that, for the rest of my life, I’d do whatever it took to spare Aderyn another moment’s pain.
But Hafgan had lost his entire clan to human greed. I couldn’t fault him for continuing to be wary when his life and love and family were on the line. All I could do was prove to him, over and over again, that I wasn’t a risk to anyone.
I had to keep proving it to myself too, because Aderyn needed me—wanted me—as much as I wanted him.
When I looked into Aderyn’s eyes, across our gripped hands, even the twisting guilt I felt for Hafgan disappeared.
Aderyn was here. For all my flaws and failings, he still chose me.
Nothing else mattered when this was the rightest I’d ever felt. From the very start, locked in cages side by side, it’d been us.
Promising him forever? Saying the words was easy, because my heart had felt them with every beat.
Then, there was the reception, and the only things that made it bearable were the twins, happy and hale, laughingboldly as they ran around the great hall, and Aderyn’s hand in mine. When we circled the room, he accepted congratulations and didn’t talk much otherwise, but he seemed content to lean against my arm and hold on tight.
Sometimes, I’d catch his sidelong glance and my cheeks would flush.
Perhaps if I’d been an older king, one whose back ached from sitting the throne so long, I wouldn’t have been so eager to be done with all the revelry.
I needed him alone.
Once we’d decided to wed, every kiss had simmered with promise. We held ourselves back, never discussing it outright, but dancing away whenever we got close to something more. There was something exquisite in the game, in waiting for him, in taking time to prepare.
But now, the seconds were ticking down until the game was over, and it took every ounce of fortitude not to drag him back to my chamber—ourchamber—and pin him down to our bed.
We were finally able to excuse ourselves, and each step away from the great hall toward the royal wing had my heart beating harder.
