“Can it not be both, bride of my heart?” He murmured to me, his voice pitched only for my ears.
“I suppose it could,” I said, considering, but I would not be myself if I were not practical and as he set my feet down on the white sand, I could not help but press him with what still troubled me. “But I must confess, I find I am still quite grieved by your actions before your folk. You allowed me to be kissed again and again against my desires. Am I to expect that treatment in the future.”
He paled slightly as he looked at me as if the thought of what had happened wrung some emotion from him.
“I killed each one who set his lips to thine.”
“So you did,” I said, lifting my owls — who had gone to sleep with their heads tucked under their wings — so that I could wade into the foaming surf. I was trying to appear confident, but I was deeply troubled. “And yet, you allowed the violation. I agreed to the challenge, but I had thought it would be some contest of merit. It did not occur to me that you would leave me to such an exercise in humiliation without preventing it.”
And when I turned, he was standing before me, and he had stripped off coat and weapons and jerkin as if he planned to bathe in the sea. The great gaping hole in his side distracted me for a moment. He wore that for me. For always.
It was hard to be angry at a man marked so.
He froze, biting his lip and looking at me intently.
“And is this your last doubt of me, my wife? I have given you my flesh, my bone, my death, and my fidelity. I have honored you as my queen and made you secure in that position forever. I have invited you into partnership with me, into a share of both sufferings and reward.” He paused, eyes blazing and I felt a small quake of fear. “But you harbor one last doubt, hmm? Will I uphold your honor in the future? Will I never again suffer a violation to your person? Is this the last question that must be answered before you can find happiness in my arms?”
“Yes,” I said, lifting my chin steadily. “It must be answered. For how can I trust the rest of my future in your hands without an answer to that?”
He nodded, looking down and his expression was thoughtful as he waded into the sea with me. When he reached me, he took my hands in his and my owls hooted and tried to fly away when I dropped my skirts. They made such a protest that I was forced to hold my skirt in one skeletal hand to keep them from the sea and his hands in my flesh one.
And when his gaze met mine I felt myself swallow at the purity of the emotions I saw there. His eyes radiated finality.
“You know the old hymn. You’ve heard it sung. You followed it onto the Path of Princes.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Sing it for me.” He stepped nearer, leaning in so that all I could see was his dear face and his parted, wanting lips. He drew in a breath like a backward sigh.
“I sing very poorly,” I said, cheeks heating.
“Sing, all the same.” One of his hands left mine to caress my cheeks with the back of his hand, drawing my attention to the holes in his palms which he bore even as Bramble King, and would bear now forever. He gave me that. Could I not give him this?
My lips trembled, but I sang for him.
“Fly with the Arrow,
Dance with the Sword,
Give Your Heart to the Barrow,
Die with your Lord
And if ever yoube broken,
And gasp on the ground,
Hold up your fine token,
And join with the sound.
Sing for your Sovereign,
Bow to your Dream,
Make Haste for the Fallen,
Rise in Esteem.
