This is what I left her with. Nothing but grief and fucking agony.
So Sebastian held her, letting the storm rage. But when her breath became too shallow, too sharp, her panic rising until she was chokingon it, he stepped in. Had to. He gripped her chin gently and tilted her face up.
“Kara, look at me,” he said.
She tried to hide her face again, but he held her firm. “No. Look.”
Her gaze lifted.
She’s so beautiful.
“I’m here now, I’m alive,” he assured her. “You can’t keep going like this.” He moved her so she was tucked firmly into his side, his arm holding her upright. “Come, walk with me.”
He didn’t wait for agreement. Just guided her gently towards the courtyard. It was when they were finally outside in the fresh autumn air that she staggered back, eyes unfocused.
“Kara?”
Their bond rocked with the rush of another life – another set of memories, flooding into her. The life she hadn’t lived, but had begged the Arcanth for.
“What–” she gasped.
He saw flashes only: them defeating Silas together. Him alive, the two of them walking away from the battlefield, his hand warm in hers. Their laughter echoing through Thorne’s halls. Nights where she curled against him and heard the steady beat of his heart, not silence.
She gripped him tighter. “I remember,” she said hoarsely. “Sebastian – I remember both. Two lives. The one where you–” she stopped, unable to say it, “–and the one where you lived.”
He’d woken with both lives stitched into him, but her grief had been so raw, so consuming; perhaps her mind hadn’t been able to bear the memories until now. He steadied her by the shoulders, waiting as she took it all in. Saw the strangeness of it on her face.
“So do I,” he whispered.
Her face transformed. “We won. We rode here, to Thorne together.” She laughed, broken but full of joy. “You asked me to marry you. On the way here – you asked me.”
Sebastian reached for the memory – let it stir in his mind. Riding double on his valmare, his arms wrapped around her, the battlefield behind them. They’d survived. There was no enemy at their heels, no pyres or prisons or blades hanging over them. Just them. He’d been so nervous. Ridiculous, really. They were already Soulbonded, their fates bound deeper than any marriage vow. But that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted it to be official. In name as well as soul. Wanted her to be Lady Karalynna Thorne. So when they’d stopped to make camp thatnight, he’d asked. He remembered clearing his throat, stuttering as he dropped to one knee.
“Kara, I know–I know it’s mad, after everything, but I love you. I’ll always love you. Marry me. Be my wife.”
No ring, no ceremony, only him and his words. And she’d bent down, tears of joy falling as she’d said fiercely, “Yes, Sebastian, a thousand times yes.”
The memory flooded through them both, and it filled him up, echoing undeniable joy across their bond. He felt it burn away the sharper edges of her grief.
“I said yes,” she said, eyes shining.
He looked at her wonderingly. “Yes, you did.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “Yes, yes, yes!” she cried.
“You’re mine,” he growled, holding her tightly. “Lady Thorne.”
She smiled up at him. “Always. I’m always yours.”
A part-horrified, part-amused look crossed her face.
“What?” he demanded, wary now.
“Our wedding,” she blurted out, almost hysterically. “It’s here, in Thorne. In a little over a month. Apparently we invited half the damned realm.”
Sebastian gave a quiet huff of laughter. “You let Rowan and Saffra near the guest list, didn’t you?”
She laughed brightly. Gods, he lived for that sound.
