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Now that he’d finally been allowed to see behind them, he would never look away again.

“Trust me, Lorelei,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand. “I won’t betray my vows to the Empire—but I won’t betray you, either.”

“Ohhh…!” Lorelei shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. Then, with a muffled sound of despair, she shoved the jug of wine aside and launched herself at him.

22

It was useless, and Lorelei knew it even as she cast aside all the restraints that had bound her.

She would never have this beautiful, kind, strong, and honorable man to keep by her side forever. That had always been an impossible dream—she’d known it even as she’d indulged herself by abducting him—but she hadn’t been able to resist the doomed attempt.

Tomorrow, the Tournament of Leaves would finish. After that, whether they won or lost, she’d promised to return Gerard to the mortal realm. And then …

Then, Lorelei would have to watch him willingly walk back into the heart of the Serafin Empire, away from her and along a path that led only to ruin and death.

She knew exactly how Emperor Otto II would react to his Imperial authority being questioned by a dangerously popular member of his private council. He’d already shown his hand to the world with his first Imperial high priest’s arrest.

For better or worse, Gerard de Moireul had always followed the god of both war and justice and respected the gravity of the law. His emperor felt no such personal restraints.

So, no, tonight couldn’t be the start of anything real and true—but it was still Lorelei’s last chance. So it wasn’t so much that she threw herself at him as that she finally stopped holding herself back.

When she landed on his lap and his arms closed around her, the relief felt overwhelming. His strong legs were a sturdier throne than any she had ever ruled from; her palms molded around his big shoulders as if they’d belonged there from the beginning. Perhaps they always had, after all. Goddess knew, she’d been drawn towards him like a lodestone from the very first night they’d met—and that need was clearly mutual. The delicious proof was pressing up against her core, driving her wild, while his lips sought hers with unhidden hunger.

Thank Sylvana she’d chosen this dress with its skirts made of daringly mobile strips! The petticoat underneath was scandalously short; it slipped easily up her thighs, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist like a vine binding itself around an oak tree, making him utterly hers … for this one night. Gerard’s heartbeat hammered against her chest, all of his usual impenetrable calm vanished, as their lips met and breath mingled.

She didn’t only want to ravish this man—she needed to meld herself into him until she’d embedded her scent into his skin and he would remember her with every breath he took, no matter how far apart their destinies took them. Sylvana knew, she would never be able to forget this moment; it was only fair that he share that poisoned blessing.

She didn’t even notice the cool wetness sliding down her own cheeks until she tasted sudden salt in their kiss. “Lorelei.” Gerard drew back, breathing hard, and brought his hands up to cradle her face for a too-keen inspection. His thumbs swept out, calluses rubbing with delicious friction against her skin, and brushed away her tears with a care that threatened to shatter her completely.

“Oh, don’t worry about those,” she said lightly. “They’re nothing! Completely meaningless. Just ignore them, for my sake.”

She tried to lean forward, to reclaim his lips and make him forget, but he held her in place, his grip gentle but implacable. “Lorelei.” His voice was pained, but his lips quirked into a small, rueful smile. “We truly do not have to do this. I swear to you, none of my commitments will change if you don’t want—”

“Oh, yes, we do!” she said fiercely, and grabbed hold of his uniform jacket before he could escape. “I’ve been waiting seven years for this moment. If you’re going to be cruel and tease me now, after everything we’ve been through—!”

“You are weeping,” he reminded her. “Something is clearly wrong.”

“What absolute rubbish.” Lorelei lifted her chin and sneered up at him. “Darling, I always weep at times like this. That’s simply the way I am.”

“And that, my darling, is a flat-out lie.” His voice was a deep rumble that vibrated through her, with a tenderness that made her frantic. “You never willingly let anyone catch any glimpse of vulnerability.”

She narrowed her eyes dangerously. “I believe you’re thinking of yourself now, General.”

“No, I’m thinking of both of us.” He shook his head slowly, never breaking her gaze. “Haven’t you noticed yet? We’re two of a kind.”

Her lower lip wobbled horrifyingly at the truth of his words; she sucked in a bracing breath and shook her head right back at him. “Careful!” she said and attempted a scornful laugh. “If anyone ever heard the famously noble Golden Beacon compare himself to the most notoriously immoral queen on the continent, whatever would they think?”

“Regardless of what anyone may think, you’re not immoral,” he said calmly, “and I am finished with self-delusion and fencing around the truth. I’m in love with you, Lorelei.”

Oh, goddess, no, I can’t bear this. “Don’t—!” Lorelei began.

But he was already continuing like the inexorable force he always had been on every battlefield in his life. “I have loved you for years, I think, though I was too cowardly to admit it to myself until now.”

Was he, of all people, calling himself a coward? Lorelei was ready to wrench herself free and flee into the night … if only the warmth of his palms around her face didn’t feel so meltingly addictive, as if she’d finally found a home where she entirely belonged.

Her pulse thumped frantically at her throat, like a bird battering at its cage, and her attempt at laughter sounded half-strangled. “Goodness, such high drama, and I haven’t even removed any of my clothing yet! Are you always so sentimental with your lovers before they’ve satisfied you?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said simply. “I haven’t had any lovers until you.”