The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,179
anything more to be stolen. There was only us, and everything we had ever been to each other, the days and weeks when only we mattered, our fingers lacing together, holding, fierce, his gaze penetrating mine, and then fear and desperation faded, our movement slowed, and we memorized, lingered, touched, swallowing tears that still swelled in us, the reality setting in—we had only a few hours. He hovered over me, the flame of the fire lighting his eyes, the world stretching thin, disappearing, his tongue sweet and slow and gentle on mine, and then more urgent, pressing, hungry, the moment becoming the promise of a lifetime, a feverish need and rhythm pulsing between us, our skin moist and searing, and then the shudder of his breath in my ear, and finally, my name on his lips. Lia.
* * *
We lay in the darkness, my cheek on his chest. I felt his heartbeat, his breaths, his worries, his warmth. His fingers absently grazed lines down my arm. We talked like we used to, not about lists and supplies but what weighed on our hearts. He told me about the betrothal and why he couldn’t go through with it. It wasn’t just that he didn’t love her. He already knew what I had been through. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that to someone again. He remembered what I had said about choice, and he knew she deserved that too.
“Maybe she wants to marry you?”
“She’s only fourteen and doesn’t even know me,” he said. “I saw her trembling and afraid, but I was desperate to get here to you so I signed the papers.”
“Sven said breaking the betrothal could cost you your throne.”
“It’s a risk I’ll have to take.”
“But if you explain the circumstances, what the general did—”
“I’m not a child, Lia. I knew what I was signing. People sign contracts every day to get what they want. I got what I wanted. If I don’t fulfill my end, I’ll look like a liar to a kingdom that’s already deeply troubled.”
He was facing an impossible choice. If he did marry her, he could ruin the future of a girl who deserved one. If he didn’t, he could lose the confidence of a kingdom he loved and push it into further turmoil.
I asked him about Dalbreck and what it had been like there when he returned. He told me about his father’s funeral, the obstacles and problems, and I heard the concern in his tone, but as he described it, I also heard his strength, his deep love for his kingdom, his yearning to return. Leading is in his blood. It made the risks he had taken for me and Morrighan all the greater. The ache in my heart surged. A farmer, a prince, a king. I loved him. I loved all that he ever was, and all that he would be—even if it was to be without me.
I rolled over, hovering over him this time, and I lowered my lips to his.
* * *
We slept and woke throughout the night, another kiss, another whisper, but finally dawn and the world crept back in. Raspberry light glowed around the drapes signaling that our lifetime was up. I lay curled in the crook of his arms and his fingers strummed my back, lightly touching my kavah. Our kavah, I wanted to say, but I knew the last thing he wanted was to be drawn into Venda’s prophecy, though it was already too late for that.
We dressed without speaking.
We were leaders of kingdoms again, the sound of boots and buckles and duty hanging in the air around us. Our few hours were gone, and there were no more to spare. He would begin his day by checking on Sven, and I would leave to inform the Timekeeper of my duties so he could find me as the need arose, because I’d forbidden him to follow on my heels.
When my last lace was tied, I broke our silence. “There’s something I still have to tell you, Rafe, something I’ve already told my father. When we get to the valley and meet the Komizar’s army, I’m going to offer a peace settlement.”
His nostrils flared, and his jaw turned rigid. He bent to pick up his baldrick from the floor as if he didn’t hear me. He slipped it over his head, adjusting the buckle, his movement punctuated with anger.
“I plan to offer the Vendans the right to settle in the Cam Lanteux, a chance for a better—”