My hands shook, and the tears kept flowing. “I’m so sorry. I know my duty. I will still train, still fight, still face whatever battle against Caym lays ahead. But Dritan feels like a part of my soul—he has from the moment I met him. You cannot keep me from him.”
He shook his head, contemplating my words. “I married Freya when I was young. Nothing would have stopped me.”
My heart skipped a beat as he trailed off. Papa had never spoken his first wife’s name to me before. I knew it only because of the plate on the bronze memorial standing near us.
He cleared his throat. “He will formally meet me and your mother before you sneak him up to your room again, or next time, I’ll drag him out of there by his—”
“Papa!”
He huffed a gruff laugh, but continued to stare down at me with quiet intensity. “You’re so very young, Lark,” he said, his expression turning a hint sad. He needed time to mourn the loss of my childhood before he could be happy for me.
I wiped away the tears from my cheeks. “I am not too young to know what I want for myself.”
He grunted, as though he disagreed, but did not argue. Instead, he released my shoulders and said, “Marriage is hard work. It isn’t always rewarding.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mama would punish you for that statement.”
“Well, that’s half the fun,” he said in jest.
“Papa!” I choked on my laughter. “If it is so difficult, then why did you choose it again? It wasn’t a tradition of immortals.”
He hummed, this time glancing up the stairs, where Mama still lay asleep. “Because in marriage, you’re less likely to face your hard days alone. And when there is no one else you’d rather wake up beside, that person makes each day better than the last.”
I scrunched up my nose. “You never seemed like you valued romance.”
“I don’t. Your mother sneaks it out of me.”
My hands finally stopped shaking. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t yanked Dritan down to the dungeons when we came back the night prior.
“Finding someone you love is scary, isn’t it?” I asked. I’d likely reached the end of his sentimental rope. Yet I longed to know ifI would ever stop feeling this way—like something could crush it all so easily.
He finally answered, “A bit. I only wish for you to never know the feeling of losing it.”
Chapter 59
Emmerick
Before I could see Elsedora through the doorway, the sweet, buttery scent of shortbread filled the air. Then the vision of her holding a tray, wearing nothing but her brassiere, and a thin pair of lace undergarments distracted me entirely from my hunger for sweets.
Her eyes lit from within when she spotted me resting against her pillows with my arms behind my head, as though she’d expected me to flee. Every ounce of my reservations about falling for her had been quelled and morphed into the overwhelming truth. I’d do whatever it took to keep her looking at me like I was the best part of her day.
The foolish games had concluded.
We’d never be merely friends again. Not now. Not after I’d gotten a glimmer of what could be.
I watched, with undivided attention, as she climbed into bed beside me and set the tray on my lap.
“These look far better than what I would have accomplished alone,” she mused.
Instinct had my hand buried in her hair within moments, roughly pulling her to lean over for a kiss. Her finger came between our mouths, so I bit down on it gently.
She smirked. “We’ve worked very hard for these. Eat your shortbread.”
My patience was wearing thin already. I needed her again, but I didn’t argue. I couldn’t deny my favorite baked goods.
“Fine.” I relented and released her.
She grabbed a shortbread cookie, offering it to me, and I ate the whole thing in one bite while she chuckled. “Greedy! You’re supposed to take time toenjoyit.”
