Page 136 of Burn of the Everflame

“Before we left, I showed your mother the reports detailing how Vance’s men tortured their victims before carving them up,” Luther said. “I told her, ‘If your source betrays you, this is Taran and Zalaric’s fate.’ She swore she would not risk it if she was not sure.”

“How can you have so much faith in her when I do not?”

“Because I see you in her, and I see her in you.”

He held out a hand in wordless invitation. Veins rose on his forearm, as if he was fighting his own body not to do more.

This is a bad idea, I thought. Such a bad idea.

I walked to him and placed my palm in his, allowing him to pull me closer. He lifted my hand and studied it with a pensive look. “If we were to marry, what kind of ring would you wear?”

My mouth went dry. “Luther,” I choked.

“That’s the mortal custom, is it not? Exchanging rings at the wedding ceremony?”

“Yes, it is, but . . . I—we⁠—”

“The Descended have nothing like it. Those who mate have their marks, of course. Those who marry exchange gifts, but nothing like this.” He brushed a thumb across my finger. “I quite like the gesture. It says to the world, They’re mine.” His eyes rose to me. “Try to take them at your peril.”

My heart skipped.

Pull away, I thought. Pull away, pull away.

His fingers grazed my cheek as he tucked a curl behind my ear. “You told me your feelings for me had not changed. Is that still true?”

A fat raindrop splashed against my arm.

I nodded. This time, he showed no relief at my admission. I was confirming what he already knew—what I’d tried, and utterly failed, to suppress.

“You told me once that you weren’t certain you ever wanted to marry. Is that still true?”

My resolve wore dangerously, terminally thin.

“Say yes, if that’s how you feel,” he said. “I don’t wish to change your mind, only to know it.”

My heart raced.

I couldn’t answer. If I did, what came out would not simply be a no, it would be a confession that marriage was only the beginning of what I wanted from him. With him.

He set my hand over his heart, then laced his fingers behind my back to draw me in. “I’ve been thinking about what kind of ring I might want. My first thought was something covered in jewels to match my sword. You would despise it, of course. You’d tease me for it every day. You would be vicious.” He watched me with a soft smile. “It would be worth it, to know I could always make you laugh.”

My heart stumbled.

Another raindrop hit my nose, then another on my hair. Dark spots rose on his shirt where more rain absorbed into the fabric.

Neither of us moved.

“Then,” he went on, “I thought I might use my magic to burn a scar around my finger instead. By evening it would heal, and each morning I would burn it anew, so that you would know our marriage was not a choice made once, but a vow that I swore to you again and again. A promise made, and kept, every day for the rest of our lives.”

My heart soared.

The rain picked up just in time for the drizzle to mix with the tears forming on my lashes. Luther pressed a kiss to my temple, breathing his words into my skin. “Diem Bellator, I would marry you today, if you’d let me. I’d dig out roots from the soil and tie them around your finger if we could find no other ring. Anything to call you mine.”

I am yours, my soul screamed. I will always be yours.

With a rumble of thunder, the clouds unleashed, and it wasn’t long before we were both soaked to the bone. On the ground, soldiers scurried indoors to avoid the downpour, leaving the streets empty and the city quiet except for the patter of rain.

Luther pulled me against him, and I didn’t fight it, burying my face in his chest. He set his chin atop my head. “I finally have you back in my arms,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “but you feel so far away. I worry there’s a part of you still trapped on that island, and I don’t know how to bring her home.”