Severin must see the hurt on my face, because he softens. Stepping forward, he eases his arms around me slowly, as if I might erupt at any moment.
When I allow the touch, he guides me into his chest, where he holds me firmly against him.
“I don’t do this to hurt you, Maeve.” One of his hands comes up to stroke down the length of my hair. “This isbecause I care for you. Deeply. And I don’t want to take your freedom from you.”
I begin to push away from him, preparing to argue that he doesn’t get to decide my future or my freedom for me, but he doesn’t let me budge, instead squeezing me more tightly against his chest.
“Don’t fight me on this,” he says, his voice a whisper of breath that flutters against the top of my head, his arms sturdy as steel around me. “Please, Maeve. Try to understand.”
I don’twantto understand. What I want is to fight him on this, to demand he stop operating from a place of fear, to yell at him to be brave for us, to choose us.
But a tiny part inside medoesunderstand, even if it frustrates me.
He doesn’t want to take my choices away. And in order not to, he has to take away the one thing he has control over: whether or not he feeds from me again.
He’s not doing this from a place of cruelty. I know that it’s coming from a place of love.
That realization takes the heat out of me.
I . . . understand.
I stop trying to push away, and with a sigh, I finally lift my arms and wrap them around his waist. Immediately, he softens, some of the tension leaving his body.
“I don’t like it,” I say, my voice muffled against his chest. “And I don’t agree with it. But I understand.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Thank you. I know this is the right decision.”
I don’t. But I’m not going to fight him on it. Not now, at least.
Yet deep inside my chest, I feel the pull. This time, though, it’s different. Like it’s pulling so hard that it’s starting to fray.
So I wrap my arms more tightly around Severin, and I hope that in time I might be able to change his mind.
Chapter 45
Maeve
CLIMBING THE STAIRCASE TO THE Skyreach Spire used to feel meditative; tonight, tension coils in my muscles and crouches just beneath my skin. I haven’t seen Severin alone since that afternoon in his office, when he told me he wouldn’t feed from me again. And my magic feels the distance he’s created.
It’s been sharper, more reactive than I’m used to. And under the surface, I can still feel it reaching for Severin, seeking out that thread that continues to bind us despite him not having fed from me again.
Maybe I can convince him, I think as my boots thump out a rhythm on each stone stair.But should I?
I’ve replayed our conversation a hundred times already, but no matter which angle I look at it from, I keep coming back to the same conclusion: Iwantto be connected to Severin. I’ve spent my life honing my magic and my control, sharpening my storm into something I can wield rather than be wielded by. But I’ve never felt the strength and stability thatI’ve experienced since Severin entered my life. My magic reacts to him in a way that makes me feel safe. But right now, I don’t know what to feel.
I reach the top of the staircase, and as I open the door onto the spire, the cold wind brushes my hair and cloak back, momentarily stealing my breath with its chill.
And there, moving like a specter across the tower, is Severin.
Tonight, he’s fully dressed, and I feel a flicker of disappointment that he doesn’t have his shirt off. But winter has arrived, and as I step onto the tower and allow the door to close behind me, my breath puffs out around my mouth in little gray clouds.
Severin finishes his combination, then slowly lowers his sword, the edge of the steel glinting in the golden light of dusk. And when his gaze meets mine, my heart tugs painfully, that thread between us pulling taut. I know he feels it too, because there’s a flicker of discomfort in his eyes.
Which are not nearly as red as they were last time I saw him.
My blood is slowly leaving his system, causing his eyes to darken again. And seeing it, seeing our distance made tangible, makes my shoulders heavy and my stomach tight.
“Miss Vandermere,” he says by way of greeting.
