Page 64 of On Broken Bonds

And I’m not a girl any longer. I’m me, except I’m right back in that time and moment, feeling small and broken. He sits behind me on the forest floor and pulls me back against his chest as though I weigh nothing at all. One hand slides into my hair while the other wraps around my waist, holding me together when I no longer seem capable of doing it myself.

"It's alright," he murmurs.

Nothing is alright. My parents are dead. Lyra needs me. The world is cruel and unfair and I am completely alone.

Yet somehow, wrapped in his arms, I almost believe him.

The tension slowly leaves my body. My tears don't stop, but they become quieter. Less desperate. I lean into him shamelessly, taking everything he's offering. The warmth. The comfort. The certainty that, for just a little while, someone else is carrying part of the burden.

Then another pair of arms wraps around us. I glance behind me and find Fenric there, looking concerned. He settles beside me, his body warm against mine, one arm draped across my shoulders while Thorian remains in front of me. Suddenly I'm surrounded from every side. Protected. Held. Safe.

Neither man asks anything of me. Neither expects me to be strong. Neither tells me I need to carry the weight of the world.

It feels good. Right.

Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. Thorian brushes them away with his thumb. Fenric presses a kiss to my temple and smiles at me with such warmth that my chest aches.

"We've got you," he says softly.

They’re such simple words. They unravel the walls I've spent so long building.

I turn toward Thorian first. His hand slides beneath my chin, tilting my face upward. The kiss he gives me is slow and gentle, full of a tenderness I've spent years secretly wishing for. When he pulls away, I feel warm all the way through, as though some hollow place inside me has finally been filled.

Then Fenric is there too, smiling at me with those kind green eyes. His lips brush mine in a kiss, sweet and affectionate, and it feels so natural. So easy. As though being loved is the simplest thing in the world.

Their arms remain around me. Their warmth surrounds me. And for the first time since standing beside two coffins and pretending to be brave, the crushing loneliness begins to fade.

I don't have to do this alone. I don't have to save Lyra alone. I don't have to hurt alone. The thought… feels right. Like this was always where I was going to end up.

Which can’t be true. Can it?

The church bells ring softly through the valley.

At first, I barely notice them. They're the same bells from the funeral. The same mournful tolling that echoed across our lands while my parents were lowered into the ground. I simply sit there between Thorian and Fenric, wrapped in their warmth, listening to the sound drift through the trees.

Then something changes.

The bells begin to sound different. Brighter. Lighter. The grief drains from them little by little until the mournful tolling becomes a song of celebration.

A celebration.

A wedding.

I blink, and the world shifts around me. The forest disappears. The massive oak tree vanishes. The funeral, the tears, the aching grief that has sat inside my chest for years all melt away like mist beneath sunlight. Suddenly, I'm standing instead of sitting. Golden light pours through stained glass windows, splashing the floor in brilliant colors.

My heart stutters. I know this place. A church. Another blink, and I realize the bells are still ringing. Only, they’re wedding bells.

The realization settles over me slowly. I look down and discover that my black mourning dress is gone. In its place is a gown of creamy ivory silk. Tiny pearls shimmer along the bodice. Lace trails over my wrists. When I lift a hand to touch my hair, I find flowers woven through it.

A wedding dress.

My pulse begins to race.

The church is full. Every pew is occupied. Faces turn toward me, smiling. Some of them I know immediately. Hilda sits in the front row with tears shining in her eyes. Lyra beams at me from beside her. Ivor stands nearby, looking proud.

Then my breath catches. My parents are there. Alive. Whole. Happy.

Mother's arm is linked through Father's. They're smiling at me as though this is exactly where they're supposed to be. As though they never died. As though I never stood beside their coffins and watched them lowered into the ground.