solely to mine.” Morpheus tips his hat my way and the bluish gray moths at the rim quiver, as if bowing. As he turns his back and takes the stairs, wings dragging through the snow behind him like a cape, a part of me aches with a deep sadness.
A gust stirs in his wake, kicking up a whirlwind of snow.
It’s better that we’re leaving through the Ivory portal. This painful parting would have been compounded by all my subjects’ faces looking back at me. I chose not to say good-bye to any of them last night when I visited the Red castle. It would’ve felt too final and strange, somehow. I take comfort knowing I’ll see them and Morpheus in my dreams.
After the moth-driven carriage lifts to the sky, Jeb turns me to face him. He brings my hand to his mouth and nuzzles my knuckles. His intense gaze roams every feature, from my eyes to my nose to my lips, as if he’s studying a painting again.
The silence twists my stomach into knots. “Are you going to ask?”
“Ask what?” he says against my hand.
“If anything happened.” My and Morpheus’s time together feels private and sacred, but if Jeb needs to hear what we talked about and the places we visited to ease his mind, I’ll be open and honest.
Jeb links our fingers again. “You took my hand today, and you’re standing here beside me. That tells me all I need to know. You’re a queen, and you have responsibilities.” The admiration behind his words surprises me, although it shouldn’t. Not considering his emotional ties to my world. “I don’t have to have an update each time you return. You would tell me anything that might affect us and our life.”
I smile, awed by his faith. “I would. I will. And thank you.”
He gently grasps the hair braided at the nape of my neck and presses our foreheads together. “Thank you.” His voice—deep and husky with emotion—forms a haze of condensation between us. “Thank you for coming back to me.”
I caress his face and the hint of whiskers along his chin. “Okay, I won’t feel like you need an update each time. But please, don’t think you have to say ‘thank you’ every morning when I wake up beside you, either. I want us to be normal.”
“Normal.” He draws back and grins, his dimples finally making an appearance. “This from the girl who sprouted wings and gave me my first colossal wedgie while we sand-surfed over Wonderland. When was the last time we were normal, huh?”
I snort, remembering how I couldn’t carry him across the chasm and had to leave him behind, that even when he was every bit as scared as me, he made me laugh and gave me the strength to do what I thought would be impossible. Just like now.
His grin softens, causing his labret to glisten in the light. I touch it, circling the warm metal so his whiskers tickle my fingertip.
The action, intimate and sensual, hits me with an almost inconceivable truth: There’s nothing standing between us now. Our lives together will begin today, the minute we cross the border. I’m both happy and overwhelmed.
“I’m ready for my ring,” I manage over the tightness in my throat.
His expression sobers. Dragging the chain from under his shirt, he pulls it over his head and slides the ring off. Eyes locked to mine, he slips the silver band into place onto my right hand, where it will remain until he places it on my left once we’ve said our wedding vows. The diamonds glisten—a heart with wings—and my own heart flutters as if it could fly.
The band fits my finger perfectly and feels like coming home.
“You’ll always be my lifeline,” Jeb whispers, then presses his thumb to the dimple in my chin and pulls me in for a sweet, gentle kiss. I wind my fingers through his hair and taste him—free of cologne or paint or turpentine. Just him. Human, masculine. Jebediah Holt.
I could drown in the sweetness of the simplicity.
With our chests pressed together, my sutured heart glows and hums, trying to close the space between us. His body tenses, as if he senses the pull.
He breaks the kiss and tucks my head against him, his stubbled jaw scraping my temple. “I have something to show you.” His lips caress the top of my ear and warm me to my toes. “I wanted to wait until we were back. Until we were alone. But I think