Send Me Their Souls (Bring Me Their Hearts #3) - Sara Wolf Page 0,140

clammy cold of the Dark Below. He must be even more nervous than I am, considering magic becomes more difficult the farther down into the Dark Below a witch goes. One of his defenses, gone. And one of mine, too. If his magic is weak, he can’t heal me as quickly if I get injured. But I know he’ll try anyway, to his detriment. He smiles sideways at me, his working hand sputtering with witchfire—not strong, but enough to contribute light to the path.

“It’s good news,” he assures me when he catches me staring at the weak fire. “It means that Varia might not be as strong as I thought, either.”

“But stronger than you,” I say. “Because of the Bone Tree.”

“I wouldn’t count me out just yet.” He makes that cocky smirk I love, but it pulls at deeper heartstrings. Worried ones. He’ll have to struggle, to pour so much magic into just fighting her. If I’m not fast enough in my own plan, I could lose him. He could do something brave and foolish and noble and—

I suck in a breath, then let it out slowly. The must of ancient things cloys my lungs and helps none.

“Don’t look so worried,” Lucien assures me, a playful, Whisper-esque edge to it. It almost riles me, how hard he’s trying to be casual about this, but it fades quickly when I hear a popping sound, and feel something solid appear in my fingers.

I look down to see something blue. A gorgeous blue, deep and vivid and familiar. The shell. The little shell he took from me when we landed off the coast. It’s hard to see in the brightmoss, but he moves his witchfire closer to reveal ridges. It’s been carved with the most delicate touch into an iridescent blue rose, now peeking off a silver band.

“A— You—” I blink at him. “Is this—”

“A ring,” he says simply. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

My unheart clamps down on itself, making it nigh impossible to breathe. “Luc—”

“When this is over, you’ll think about it, won’t you?” He smiles. “We were supposed to, anyway, before all this happened.”

“Supposed to what? Marry?” I squeak out.

His smirk widens. “What I mean is, you were a Spring Bride. And I did, technically and forever, choose you.”

I gape. “You realize that—”

“I realize everything,” he assures me, smirk softening. “And I realize, mostly, that I want to realize you. Every day. For as long as you’ll have me. I don’t intend on transferring the old Cavanosian notions of what a wife should or shouldn’t do to the new realm I’ll build. Not that I think you’d ever ascribe to those in the first place.”

His onyx eyes glitter mischievously, terribly and beautifully, and my blood sings choruses with him in it.

“Will you marry me, Zera Y’shennria?”

I can practically feel my bagged heart in his coat pocket rear up, bucking against its seams. Together. Together for as long as we’ll have each other. Never in a thousand years did I think someone would ask me this—that I would be important enough to someone, to their life and their own heart, for them to consider me their partner. Happiness like that—being important to someone I love, and crave—was never possible in Nightsinger’s woods. It was a dreamy fantasy I read about in my witch’s books, tucked away between the garden rhubarb and spring onions, dirt smears on my knees and on the pages, but I was so lost in the fantasy I didn’t care. What would it be like, I thought, to be asked such a monumental question, and by someone I loved? What even was love? I didn’t know.

But now, in this canyon pulled wide by time and disaster, coated with shadow and mosslight, I do. The world turned upside down, in just a few years that felt more like ages.

I’ll never really be gone. Still. Still, a shred of sadness tears at me.

But I have to hold on to any light I can.

I smile for what feels like the very first time and slide it on my finger.

“I’ll perhaps consider it.”

“Just perhaps?” He quirks a brow above his smirk.

“Just perhaps,” I assert playfully, pretending haughtiness until the very last second, when he pulls me in by my waist, quick and sharp, while his kiss is slow and velvet.

I’m still dizzy from it when we stop for a water break. Lucien’s chatting with Malachite, the biggest smile plastered on his face as Malachite demands to know why he’s so giddy. Lysulli chimes