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But I wanted all of him.

—

He looked weary.

Seated in a tall chair, his chest still bare, and one boot propped on the stone lip of a smaller inglenook, Roark studied the flames, his chin propped on the claw of his hand. I wasn’t certain he even heard me enter the smaller room, a study of sorts connected to his bedchamber.

I leaned one shoulder against the frame of the door. “Is this what you want?”

Roark spun in the chair, startled. One brow lifted with his palm. What do you mean?

Slowly, I crossed the space and stood in front of the flame. Heat kissed the backs of my legs, and the constant thrum of my pulse quickened when our gazes locked. “As a servant, I had certain freedoms. Strange, I know. One was being permitted to love and wed freely. No one cared who their servants chose to wed, as long as it was not their sons or daughters. As a prince, you did not have a choice, nor as Sentry. King Damir would’ve arranged a match for you. So”—I took a small step closer—“is this a match you desire?”

Roark rose to his feet. I have failed you greatly if you do not already know my answer.

“No, truly consider it,” I said, my voice rough. “I have no plans to wed out of convenience. No matter how I feel about you. I have no plans to be ignored, discarded, or some man’s regret five seasons from now.”

A low rumble rolled from his throat, a sign of his disapproval for my words, but I held up a palm.

“You’ve not known me for long. Perhaps the way I thrash in my sleep will aggravate you in the future.”

The smallest twitch of a smile teased his lips. I will hold you in my arms to keep you still.

“I have a fierce taste for star plums and have no shame stealing them off the plates of others.”

I never took a liking to them. I’ll gladly hand them over.

“With too much ale, I am quite the fool, embarrassing myself and others. I will endlessly stumble over words and my feet.”

Roark tilted his head to one side. Then I will carry you home.

I traced a finger along the stones surrounding the hearth. “I can be rather stubborn.”

I assure you, I am aware.

“To the point of being hardheaded,” I said, chin lifted. “If I do not want to do something, I will dig in my heels so fiercely, you will need to toss me over your shoulder to get me to move.”

Roark’s eyes darkened. If that is the consequence, I hope you always stand your ground.

Gods. I fought my own smile, the burden of reality fading into the darkness for a moment. I stepped closer to his chair. “I’ve seen your chamber, Ashwood. You’re rather…disorderly. I like a tidy space.”

I make no promises there, he said, his fingers brushing over my palm. But I swear to always plead for forgiveness. Roark paused, then tugged on my wrist, forcing me to settle over his lap. His words were spoken against my heart. On my knees.

Breath lodged in the back of my throat. With a bit of hesitation, I touched my fingers to the edge of his bottom lip. “There could be another way to keep us both alive, surely.”

But none with such a guarantee.

I swallowed. “Why? Why do you want this? I need to know you do not say this, ask this, because you feel you must.”

Roark had the decency of considering my words and not speaking straightaway. At long last, he placed his open palm over my heart and: Tap. Tap. Tap.

His words were like smooth satin against my skin.

Because this is mine. The brushes of his fingers were slow, gentle, a whisper. He guided my palm to his chest, patting my hand against his body three times. And this is yours. It will always be yours. I would not offer this if I was not wholly in love with you, Lyra.

Gods, I did not know what to say.

Heat spread under my ribs, filling me soul deep.