“What’s wrong?” My stomach turns and sinks as I lower myself and loose my hold on him.
Tenderness tugs at the edges of his shield—armor not of steel but of resolve. He takes my hand, leads me into the room to sit, and takes his place across from me in front of the hearth. His hands rest on his knees, composed, but the tautness in his shoulders betrays a war waging inside him. He stares at the fire for a long beat, the flames reflected in his eyes like secrets he is holding back.
“I am used to using information strategically,” he says at last, voice low. “Withholding it when needed. But with you, Mira…” His head dips, defeated in a battle I do not yet understand. “Part of me is screaming not to say anything. But I cannot—will not—keep things from you.”
A tremor passes through me. My hands turn to ice even as he reaches out to cup them. “Vale, you’re scaring me.”
He shakes his head sharply and at last lifts his gaze to mine. What he meets are the tears I hold back, unfallen but threatening. “No, little flame. Nothing to fear.” His fingers brush my cheek but do nothing to soothe me. He sits taller then, like a man summoning every ounce of diplomacy to deliver a message that may well wound.
“My men have been conducting regular patrols since we arrived here together. The mountain passes, the trails both common and secret, even the forest where your cottage lies.”
I have to force myself to breathe as each word tightens around me.
“There is no sign of the dangers that pursued me.” His sigh is heavier than relief. “From the intelligence my allies have gathered, the threat moved as a targeted strike.” He shifts closer now, his thumb tracing worried circles on my wrist.
“So what does this mean?” I ask, hoping to know what has wounded him so, what shadows still wait. Each passing second holds me frozen. His pause is full of reluctance that shakes me to the core.
“It means you can go back… if you want.” His eyes clench shut, and inthat moment, I understand. This is no battlefield, no parley; it is a war within himself—my freedom versus his heart.
My shoulders sink. The cottage. The one place I have ever felt peace. No… It is the one place I have felt peace until him. My eyes dart, scanning the floor as if it holds the words I mean to say.
A chuckle cracks through him, raw and startling me. “My stubborn, willful flame, with a mind all her own. Boldness I worry about at times…” He looks at me then, sincerity naked in his face. “I know you will always do what you want to do. But I must ask you—” He shifts uneasily in his chair. This is not a man used to asking for anything. Yes, he works toward peace, but he is a man who leads them all. And yet he sits across from me, conflict thick in his voice. “Consider staying. Consider making Caerhollan your home. Not because you have to. Not because it’s safer. But because…” His voice breaks. “…I can’t imagine not having you here. Because…”
I don’t have to think. I don’t have to search. My heart knows my answer in a way my head cannot refute.
I rise to my feet, moving with grace rather than the unbridled joy with which I bounded to him before. My arms go around his neck, enveloping him. His scent—smoke, leather, rain—wraps me as surely as my embrace. “I love you too,” I whisper, kissing the crown of his midnight hair.
He catches my wrist as I begin to lower my arms, but instead of pushing me away, he rises, pulling me with him. His grip on my waist is firm, his other hand threading through my hair as his lips press to mine with passion and surrender. “Mira. My Mira… I love you.” His forehead rests against mine until I tilt my chin, our lips finding each other again.
The kiss deepens, mouths parting in an unspoken vow, tongues dancing and teasing, his teeth tugging at my lip until we stand trembling and resolute. I ease back, still anchored by his hands at my back. My palm presses over his heart. “Will I be accepted here? In Caerhollan? Not as a guest but?—”
“You will be at my side, Mira,” he rumbles, the power of his claim tightening my chest. “And anyone—anyone—who cannot accept that will answer to me.”
His palm shifts up between my shoulders as I press my cheek to hischest. I can almost feel the fire ready to spill from within him. Is it the thought of losing me, or of any who might oppose, that awakens that furor?
I press a gentle kiss to his lips and answer, “Yes, Vale. I will stay.”
My fingers slip to the chain at my throat, finding the small weight that has rested there since the day I left Eryndor’s cottage, since before I ever imagined this life.
He stills as I lift it free, eyes flickering down in quiet surprise.
I rise on my feet to bring it over his head, now resting close to his heart as it once did my own. His breath catches, reverent, as I press my palm over it for a moment before taking a step back to really look at him.
“It suits you,” I whisper, echoing the memory of the night we first came together.
“Mira…”
“I want you to carry it,” I say softly. “Wherever you go.”
I have barely a moment to see the smile that follows before his mouth reclaims mine. In one dizzying move, he sweeps me off my feet. I squeal at the upheaval as he carries me to the bed, his strides sure and steady. “Say it again.” The gravel in his voice stirs the heat within me.
“I will stay.”
Another consuming kiss. My fingers tug at his shirt, my body’s will overtaking thought. Within moments, we are bare, tangled, one.
I feel the eager pulse of him as he shifts between my thighs. His hand caresses the inside of my leg, curving inward until a gasp escapes me. A single finger slides across my slickness, telling him, too, how ready I am. He grips my hip, pulling me closer.
“I love you, Mira,” he growls, the blaze of passion in his eyes mirroring my own.
