think about death all the time.”
“Me, too.” When Hal glanced in surprise at her, Hotspur continued, “I must be comfortable with death, to charge into battle. To lead. And so I wonder about it, and what it might be like. Soft, I think.”
“Soft? Even if you die violently? Which you court, Lady Hotspur, Wolf of Aremoria.”
Hotspur tilted her face up to look at the glittering stars. “Maybe not soft, so much as comforting. Inevitable. Like the sunrise. Death melts pain and longing, hope … maybe it’s like love. Love like Connley spoke of it—to summon fire. Death is all around us, active like the wind. Whispering, slipping into dreams. It waits for when we stop reaching out to people, or we’re so broken we can’t resist it any longer.”
“You make it sound like we’re already dead, only still standing and speaking because of our relationships with others.”
“That sounds right.”
Hal laughed quietly. It was heartening to know Hotspur felt that way. That loving each other kept them alive. She said, “When I think of death, it is extremely practical. I step into the street where a horse is loose, and I imagine—like a sudden waking dream—the horse crashing into me, its hooves crack my leg and stomp on my ribs, and my blood splatters its belly. Or I lean against the stone rail on the marscote and it suddenly crumbles, and I fall. I feel the rush of air on my cheeks and my heart stops before I hit the courtyard, but I still hear the smack of my body, the screams of a gardener …”
“Hal.” Hotspur’s voice was low with horror. “I thought it was only dreams.”
“Sometimes it’s not my death. I’ve felt the splash of your hot blood—streaked on my mouth and neck so many times.” Hal squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. She hated death, and killing; most of all she hated that killing was as inevitable as death itself. For a prince.
Hotspur hugged Hal. The knight smelled like juniper and smoke. Hal pressed in, arms going around Hotspur’s waist and dragging her close. Stars and worms, she’d missed this: Hotspur’s sturdy body twisting around hers, holding her to protect her. It didn’t matter how much taller Hal was, or that she was equally strong; Hotspur could keep the worst enemy at bay with a glare, could hold off the most vicious of devils.
“I love you,” Hal whispered, clinging.
Another howl and scattered laughter rose from the yard. Hotspur pulled back, hands rubbing down Hal’s arms.
Hal kissed her.
Hands on Hotspur’s face, the prince kissed with every tangle of her heart. Her fingers splayed, and she slid them into Hotspur’s curls.
Hotspur did not push away.
Her hands cupped Hal’s elbows and it was the only encouragement Hal needed: she parted Hotspur’s lips with hers, tasting that hot, bright mouth for the first time in more than a year. Pushing onto her knees, Hal kept Hotspur’s head in her hands, tangling the red curls as she stooped over Hotspur like a hawk. She groaned into her lover’s mouth, and Hotspur grabbed at Hal’s hips, shoving coat and quilted vest back to fist her hands in the wool shirt. Hotspur opened up to Hal, and Hal reached behind Hotspur with one arm to support them both as they scraped along the rough wall to press against the flat stone floor.
If there had been thoughts or words in her head, Hal would not have paid them heed. Her hands tore down Hotspur’s front and she found the hem of her trousers. As Hal kissed Hotspur’s mouth, never letting go, even to breathe, she found the ties at the waist and tugged. Hotspur eagerly lifted her hips, spine arching, and her head fell back. Hal scoured that revealed neck with hungry kisses, and when Hotspur whimpered, Hal bit her carefully, pressing her teeth firm and tender.
Hotspur’s searching hands found a slice of skin, and Hal jerked at the cold fingers there on her side, then her belly. She leaned down against Hotspur, pushing her thigh between Hotspur’s. Hotspur kissed Hal’s cheek, straining for her mouth again.
As they kissed, they rolled to their sides, and Hal wedged her hand into Hotspur’s trousers, crawling her fingers down toward that hot, slick well.
“Hal,” Hotspur whispered, sounding hesitant at the same time her legs shifted apart and she shoved herself into Hal’s hand.
Hal nearly burst at the eager heat, at the stuttering of her heart: This was how they were meant to be, connected right here. She moved her