Page 16 of The Hopeless Romantic’s Guide to Enchantment

“It’s time for us to go.” He stayed in the doorway, and I found I wanted him to come closer.

It was better he left. Better that I didn’t crave his nearness. Better that I wasn’t tempted.

“Do you want to remain in the Edgelands?” he asked.

“It’s my home.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I haven’t been anywhere else. I have no other answer to give.”

He came into the room now. “You could come with me. Be my empress.”

“You aren’t an emperor, and I’m in no shape to travel.” It was evasion, and it didn’t even sound convincing to me. But giving him the answer I wanted – that I’d love to be swept away from the cold and damp and mud and ice, and that I wanted him to do the sweeping – would be illogical and ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

“Yet,” he said. “To both.”

“I can’t be with someone who destroyed my home.”

“As I suspected, you have good judgment. And since I didn’t destroy your home, that won’t be an impediment.”

“The wall—”

“The wall is antiquated and needs replacing. I’ve started that process.”

“You’re very clever.”

“Thank you,” he said, and gave me that endearing smile. “Tell me what I can give you.”

“You’re bribing me?”

“Yes. I find I don’t like the idea of not seeing you again.”

“There’s quite a distance between seeing me and marrying me.”

“A distance I’m apparently more than willing to cross.” He leaned forward, brushed back a lock of my hair. “Silver Dahlia, what do you want most in the world?”

Color. Sunlight. Warm rooms.

“Gather every flower in the Four Kingdoms and build a capital full of blooms.”

“And if I do, you’ll come to me? You’ll join me in the capital and be my bride?”

There was no hesitation in his voice, or in his eyes. But I’d given him an impossible task, so there was no real harm in saying yes. “Where will your capital be?”

“The Lowlands fortress.”

I lifted my brows. “The ruins in the swamp? I hear the air’s so full of bugs they blot out the sun.”

“It won’t be ruins or a swamp when I’m finished with it.”

“You have a lot of plans.”

“I do.” He lifted my hand, pressed his lips to it. “So I’ll take your bet and add to it: I’ll win the world for you, Dahlia. I’ll unite the Four Kingdoms, bring peace to the land, and build you a city of flowers.”

He couldn’t. No man could do all that, not even in a lifetime. “Good luck,” I told him, and prepared to never see him again. Maybe he noticed that in my eyes.

“I will see you again, my Dahlia. All of you.” Then his hand was on my cheek, and he lowered his mouth to mine. This kiss wasn’t about the fire that sparked between us. It was soft and warm and tender. He pulled back, and I felt the loss keenly. A tiny death. A small grief.