“And you haven’t let go of my hand.”
She turns to face me. Those eyes, fierce and soft at the same time. Her free hand rises to cup my jaw—a gesture that’s becoming familiar, that makes warmth bloom through my chest.
“I’m here because you’re not what they think you are. Not anymore.” Her thumb traces my cheekbone. “You broke your chains. Chose me over everything. Threw yourself in front of death to keep me safe.” A weary smile softens her face. “I don’t care what they see when they look at you. I know what I see.”
“What do you see?”
“The man I love.” Simple. Certain. Truth-speaking in its purest form. “The man I’m going to build a future with. If he’ll have me.”
I pull her closer. Press my forehead to hers. Let myself breathe in her scent—ink and herbs and something underneath that’s just her. “If I’ll have you,” I repeat. “Ivalys. I’d burn the world down to have you.”
“Let’s try building it up instead.” She pulls back. Gestures at the chaos around us—the waking truth-speakers, the overwhelmed healers, the vault that shouldn’t exist. “They need someone to guide them. Someone who understands the gift. Someone who knows what the Ledger Master did and how to undo it.”
“Are you volunteering?”
“I think I have to.” Exhaustion flickers across her face. Resignation. And beneath it—purpose. “I’m the most powerful truth-speaker they have. The only one who’s fully awake, fully trained by circumstance if not instruction. If I don’t help them...”
“Then I’m volunteering to stand with whoever does.” I take her hand again. Hold it. “If she’ll have me.”
Her smile widens. “She’ll have you.”
∗ ∗ ∗
