Page 274 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“You really know how to fluff a man’s feathers.”

Now it was my turn to snort, cheeks aching with the alien feeling of a genuine smile. “No fluffing allowed, remember? Wouldn’t want Nat knocking my ass out too.”

“I kinda like you unconscious. The world’s a bit quieter.”

“Rude. You’d miss my rambling if it vanished.”

“I would,” he agreed, pleading eyes lifting to mine. Any trace of humor died under that stare, gold flecks catching the light. “Look, Freya⁠—”

“Thank you,” I cut in as discomfort settled in my bones. “For going after my brother. It was so goddamn reckless, and I’m not saying I don’t want to throttle you⁠—”

“This is odd as far as thank-yous go.”

“—but thank you. For being so reckless. The rebellion is indebted.”

“I didn’t do it for them.”

The bridge of my nose burned, and I cursed whatever dam had broken these last months. Cursed the sting in my eyes and the bitter emotion clogging my throat as I nodded. “Then I am indebted to you.”

“No,” he breathed.

“He’s my idiot brother.”

“And you… are my mate. Defending your blood is an honor. There’s not a cliff I wouldn’t dive off if it meant protecting you.”

Well. Damn. I shifted uncomfortably, tugging my sleeves and cursing the fact that they were more second skin than clothing. A wobble threatened my chin, and I tamped it down like soil until the mess of sorrow was safely hardened.

“You came back to me.”

“The devil will have to cleave me into pieces to keep me from you, Freya.”

“Cyrus—”

“No,” he cut me off. “It’s my turn to talk. You listen up and listen good. I never hated you. I hate that I made you feel like I did.” He shifted, hissing as he tried to roll onto his side.

“Don’t,” I gasped, on my feet before I knew what I was doing and slamming a hand to his chest to keep the big, beautiful idiot from re-injuring his wings. “Stay.”

His eyes flicked to mine as he lowered back to the bed. When I tried to pull away, he echoed, “Stay.” His warm palm dwarfed my hand, holding it over his chest for a long beat. His Adam’s apple bobbed before he interlaced our fingers and tugged me down to sit beside him. “I never hated you, Freya. Not even for a day.”

“You convinced me.” A breath. A lapse in control. I cursed myself for it but held his gaze—a storm of gold and hazel—and found my fury, my heartache, reflected back at me. All that hurt. All that fear. Painted across the mirror of my counterpart.

“I wanted to,” he admitted softly, shaking his head. “Goddamn, did I want to.”

I nodded, teeth digging into my lip as I tried and failed to fight back tears. They fell anyway. Traitorous bastards. His expression softened, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing a wet streak across my skin.

“Please don’t,” he said, voice agonized. “Don’t waste your tears. Not on me.”

“They’re not for you,” I scoffed, the emotion clogging my voice making the claim fairly unconvincing.

“Good. I don’t deserve them.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t bullshit me. I don’t, Freya. Because I did try—I tried to hate you. Gave it my fuckin’ all.”

“See,” I sniffled, loathing myself for it. “Knew it.”

His shoulders dropped as he shook his head. “Not because you’re not so fuckin’ beautiful it hurts.” Swipe. “Not because you don’t matter to me.” Swipe. “Not because I don’t want you anymore. I tried not to want you. Did fuck all to help. I just… it’s… it feels… fuck.”