Page 215 of Winter Gods & Serpents

“Dance with me,” she said extending a hand. “I wish to tick this of the list of all I’ve done with you.”

I laced my hand with hers and tugged her tight against me as we swayed to the soft melody leaking from inside the celebrations. She peaked her head all angry at me. “Which woman taught you to dance?”

I kissed her brow. “My step-mother. Now which man taught you to dance?”

Her head laid against my collar. “My brother. I’d step on his feet and he’d sway me around all day.”

“You miss him.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes dropped to the ground. “Terribly. Do you think they will ever forgive me? For living, while they died.”

I couldn’t help the shake of my voice. “There is nothing to forgive you for, you did nothing wrong.” Her thinking it her fault hurt me worse than a wound.

“I did nothing, that is exactly what I did wrong.”

My eyes fell closed at the truth of what she felt. “You were a child and you lived, if anything your loved ones would be proud, you survived.”

“If I had not been the one to run, maybe Thora or Eren would be here. It would have been better, they would have known what to do, they were always better than me. I should have been the one to die,” she choked on her words.

They broke me, her thoughts. “Don’t—I beg of you. Don’t think like that.”

“I can’t even remember,” she said, resting her head on my chest again. “Their faces, its either a blur or…burned. Some faint memory I have is of their worst days and others I cannot even believe because they seem so happy, we were never happy, and I might have made that up. That day in Arynth, I was really upset, almost mourning her again. When I saw her, I saw her the same as she’d once been, no fog or blur or blood. I never felt happier and devastated at the same time.”

How little of her pain I understood. “Forgive me.”

She rose her head. “Don’t, if I’d seen her a bit longer I would have hated to wake, I would have not wanted to wake.”

“They were the luckiest to be loved as you loved them.”

“They were all I had, Kil, at the end of the day, despite all that went on I still had my sister snake up in bed with me, my brother kiss my brow goodnight, my mother tending to my pain. I woke for them and when they were gone I wanted to be gone with them, instead she bound me to a promise of a life—a life I did not want. Even though I am not alone, I feel alone. I feel worse than alone because now I have to keep all my senses aware that I might lose more. I have Nia, Alaric, Cai and…so much more and,” she took a deep breath, “you, I have to lose you and Mal, that ridiculous idiot with good hair.”

I halted our step. “Thank you.”

Her brows rose slowly. “For what?”

“For caring, for telling me all of your thoughts, for opening up to me, for letting me hold you, for letting me hold your heart. Thank you.”

“I don’t like this,” she whispered, catching on a breath. “It feels like farewell. I don’t want to be reminded of it. I have you for so little, the last thing I wish to think about is goodbye.”

I rested my forehead to hers. “I don’t deserve you, Snow. This selfishness, this greed, the want…it will send me right to hells.”

“You will be doing me a kindness not to leave me out there all on my own.”

She snorted first and then I followed before we were both sent in laughing fits.

“End tonight. Rest. You won the battle today.”

She nodded and I faded the two of us to her bedroom.

“How can you do that? Nia said she can barely feel any magic in her.”

“I am a prime. and a soldier who has trained since before I bloomed my blessing.” I went around and lit few candles around the room for light like she always did. She hated the dark, and I hated that I was the dark. “If you need anything, I will be right outside.”

“I need you,” she said, bringing me to a halt. She pointed innocently to her hair. “My pins. Help…please.”

Was it the flutter of those teasing lashes or the way she swayed, perhaps the look she’d given me or how she bit the side of her lip, but I was close to begging gods to spare me and take me. All of her was mine, yet I couldn’t have her. I missed her moans of pleasure, her reddened cheeks of pleasuring fatigue, the brisk sound of my name in her mouth.

I took her hand and she guided us to her dresser with a large silver mirror. She perched right on my lap and I hissed at the contact. “Wicked woman.”