I feel my shoulders unspool at the blessing of a woman I have never met. At the thought, care, and intent that preceded this night.
“Then there was the Jewel. The Manor.” Reverence laces his words. “That’s where she lies, my mother. When we lost my father…. She didn’t want to be here if it wasn’t with him. So she insisted when it was time, she wanted to be at the place that felt most sacred to her and our family.”
I squeeze his hand for comfort and respect and to show I am listening to every single word, not wanting to speak over something so dear.
“I worried each step of the journey back from Marothis. The rain is troubling enough, but those storms were a force unlike any other. The closer we drew the more they worsened. I thought about abandoning the ring. Saving it for another time, but when the morning cleared, we stayed the course. I just kept thinking if I could just get there, just get the ring…. I knew I would be cutting it close.”
He looks at me, seeking forgiveness I need not grant. Grace he already holds. “I am so sorry. That last day started with such promise, but then it turned well before we reached the Manor and it never let up. The lightning… the horses couldn’t take it.”
I move and sit on his lap. Bringing us closer not just in our hearts but in the space.
“It’s alright. You’re here now. I would marry you without the ring. I would marry you right now if that’s what you wanted. All I care about is you… here with me.”
“Careful, flame. I have waited long enough to find you, I may not be so patient to let the world know you are mine alone.”
He brings our joined hands to his chest, over the heart I’ve come to know so well.
“It was worth every storm,” he says, voice rough with feeling. “To stand here. To ask you. To see you brimming with life. And to be chosen by you still.”
A hush settles around us. Not silence. Something sacred. A stillness that holds the echo of everything we’ve endured and everything we’ve dared to hope.
The warm sweet air holds us there, brushing around us like a sign. I breathe in the scent of the impossible blooms, their petals catching in the torchlight. I almost speak it aloud, this strange and perfect dream, but I don’t wish to break the spell.
Instead, I rest my forehead to his, my whisper brushing his lips. For a moment the whole world feels forged of stars and storm light, of roots and flame.
“I chose you always, Vale. Until my last breath. I am yours, forevermore.”
That night, we come together like vow made flesh, slow, aching, sacred. The kind of love that asks nothing and offers everything. There is no haste, only the language of hands and breath and soul remembering soul. Sweet tender passion of two flames united as one.
He pulls me into his arms fully, the ring glinting in the dark. He holds me as if I am both fire and refuge, and I gather him in kind. The storm and the shelter, the kingdom and the man.
The last sound I hear before sleep is the quiet sigh from his lips, a promise. “Forevermore.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
His fingers play at my hair. He’s already sat up in bed, watching me rest. “One would think after last night you’d know plainly how well recovered I am.” My voice is thick with sleep and likely not nearly as sultry as my aim.
He leans down as his lips press a trail across my exposed shoulder. I shrug at the rough scrape of his beard, careful to not pull away. I cherish his nearness. His caress moves down my arm, clutching me at the waist and pulling me up into him. The thrumming of his heart pressed close against my back lets me know I’m home. His breath as he nuzzles into my wild mane of hair is primal, and I feel his body responding to me. My scent. My heat. The way our bodies always seem to reach for each other, just like our hearts.
“Shall I prove it once more?” I bite my lip at the way he moves, cinching our bodies more closely together, arching in a way that can mean nothing other than an enthusiastic yes.
His kisses grow more passionate now. No longer sweet devotion. There is a need. A hunger. One I plan to sate before the day begins.
The defiant side of me takes the lead, straddling him. My long golden hair cascades just enough to cover my breasts. He brushes it aside, exposing every inch of skin he wishes to take, to hold.
The passion consumes us both. I have never felt more alive. I feel like a warrior goddess riding into battle, claiming all that I am. All that I want. Vale. He is mine as surely as I am his.
When his head rolls back, pressing into the pillow at our shared release, it’s a victory I proudly call my own. With each rise and fall of my chest, raggedly drawing in air, I feel the flame within me. Alive, burning, mine. I have given myself to him and in that found myself anew.
It’s an odd shift. As we lay in each other’s arms, sweat still clinging to our bodies, I look down at the ring bejeweled on my hand, and it’s remarkable. Not the ring, though it is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen. No, it’s the way my heart holds more curiosity than doubt that strikes me. “How will this work exactly?” Yes, I feel a slight pit in my stomach as I ask, but it pales in comparison to my newfound strength. I finally have something worth fighting for. Something more than survival. A future greater than even my wildest dreams.
“What’s that, love?” He’s still in the aftermath of our lovemaking, but I continue.
“You, an immortal king, and I, a mortal, an outsider…. How will this work? Eryndor left it all to be with his love. Will we ever be accepted?”
He rests his chin atop my head, both arms wrapped around me, my hands now over his, locked in the vows we’ve made.
“Much has changed in the century or so since Eryndor left,” he speaks softly against my ear. “I may not have been king long, not by our standards, but in my time I have strived to open Caerhollan. My father endeavored to bring the kingdoms back together, work I have continued in my reign. Not just that, but also in opening the hearts of my people.”
