I snorted. “Yes. And yes.”
When he looked down at me, time held. I thought he might kiss me. Despite my state, I was desperate for him to, but thatspectacular control of his won out. When he rose from the bed, I let out a small, frustrated whine.
The slow smile he gave me was dimpled and full of torrid promise. He leaned in, fists pressing into the mattress at my hip. His voice dropped so low that I could feel it move through me. “Soon, Immy.”
Then he left the stateroom with long, resolute strides.
He returned before the pale morning sun turned golden, with servants who bore plates of food. Water was heated for a bath. And for hours we ate and talked and laughed. After drinking a flagon of wine between us, I cried. And as the sun finally lowered itself toward the line of the sea and bathed us in amber, we found ourselves on the settee. My legs across his lap and his hand atop my thigh.
I took a sip of wine and let a comfortable silence blanket us, the way the air on a balmy night would. The ship tipped and listed, and the lantern light cut striking shadows across the planes of his face.
We watched each other, quietly, until finally his hand began to gently knead my thigh, just above my knee. After my bath, I’d only put on a chemise and one of Theodore’s robes and his hand felt like fire through the thin layers of fabric.
“What’s next?” I whispered.
By the look in his eye, I knew he understood the layers and heft of the question. We had kingdoms to rule and reorder, both of us were tired and rattled after all that we’d seen and done, and moreover, we still did not knowhowwe would be together the way we wanted to be. We’d summited the mountain, but the trek down the other side would prove to be just as harrowing.
Theo kept his hand working at my thigh, almost dazedly, as he pondered his answer to my question. “Well, I suppose we could lay out some blank sheets of parchment here on the table and come upwith a plan for what’s next. We could write up Eftan’s prison sentence. I can work out how to reorder my council. We can arrange your return to Seraf…” His full, perfectly drawn lips flattened with thought. “Or… because we have some days before we are back on Varya and I cannot bear the idea of parting from you again just yet, I could kiss you, very slowly…” His fingers dragged up my leg, my thigh, and stopped right before he reached the center of me. “Right… here. Your choice.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “That one,” I said, breathless. “Thank you.”
The corner of his mouth tipped. “Good.” He patted my hip with his fingers. “Lift your clothes for me, darling.”
It was such an arrogant, languid, kingly command—so at odds with the devastating look ofwantin his eyes—that I couldn’t help but grin and obey as slowly as possible. His pupils blew wide as the hem of my chemise passed my knees; his lips parted when both it and the robe I wore were wrinkled above my hips.
“Gods.” Unabashedly, his gaze roved, lingered, but when he finally touched me, it was with the most delicate swipe at my ankle. His fingers were like silk, whisper soft, as he dragged them up my calf, to the back of my knee. He slipped off the settee, knelt, and pressed his lips against the inside of my thigh. His hot exhale warmed my skin. “Look at me.”
Despite the way my blood rushed and pooled, despite the way my chest throbbed, I forced my heavy lids open and met his gaze.
He was all labored breath and fiery intention. “Do you still feel as you did? When we last spoke.”
About being a queen.I held still. I wanted to tell him that with him, I thought I could soar. That he made me feel limitless, vast, but I feared—I knew—a crown and kingdom would be a box. A cage. But I said none of that. I simply nodded.
The look on his face softened, and though I couldn’t read it clearly, I didn’t see desolation or hopelessness. He wasn’t forlorn by my answer. He merely brushed his cheek against the inside of my leg, right where he’d promised to kiss it. His hot, soft lips touched the uppermost part of my thigh, then he parted my legs wider and said, “Very well.”
The words were plain—neither a commitment nor a refusal—even and unadorned. But his look, the surety and sultry heat of it…
For the first time in my life, I felt safe enough to hope. Brave enough to dream.
We’d already slain one unconquerable monster. We’d realized an impossible feat.
Perhaps we could again.
EPILOGUE
Imogen
ONE YEAR LATER
It was unclear when, but sometime in the half year after Eusia was vanquished, Rohana—Varya’s Mage Seer—had gone missing.
No body had been found. There had been no evidence of violence, no hints to suggest she’d absconded; only her dilapidated hut had been found empty one early winter morning, when a young fisherman’s wife came to request a prophecy for her new babe.
When I learned the news, I imagined her slipping into the sea. I’d hoped she’d simply grown tired and spirited herself away for a final rest, done with being ravaged by magic. But something heavy and sharp sat in my gut, despite my wishes.
With time away from spell work, my visions had ebbed, only coming now and then, but I dreamed vividly. Strange, colorful dreams… In some I saw Rohana, huddled in a field of snow. I saw Halla haunting the edges of Eusia’s empty pool. I’d wake with an ache behind my eyes, and a vise around my heart, hoping, praying that was all they were…dreams.
I pulled open the door of Rohana’s abandoned hut and let thesea air roll in. Each time I entered I thought of the prophecy she’d given me—how she’d been right about so very much.
