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Immunity to Adry’s magic would be handy to have, considering Merrik would walk into the storm of her magic again, if needed.

Dacha tied off the bandage on Merrik’s hand before he sighed. “I was a warrior fighting under the king when the late King Lorsan was training Farrendel. I saw the burns the king could not fully hide.”

King Lorsan, Uncle Farrendel’s father, had had plant magic. While it had been strong, it hadn’t been strong enough to hold back the power of the magic of the ancient kings not yet under control.

Even with immunity to Adry’s magic, Merrik wouldn’t be immune to their children’s magic, should they inherit the magic of the ancient kings. He could very well find himself burned again, in a similar situation to Uncle Farrendel’s dacha. If their children inherited his plant magic, they’d probably be far more powerful than he was, undergirded as their magic would be by the power level they’d inherit from their mother. He would always be outmatched and overshadowed by the far more powerful people in his life.

Merrik ducked his head as he adjusted Adry in his arms and held out his other hand to his dacha. He swallowed, gathering the courage to ask a question he’d never dared ponder before. “Have you ever been burned? By Uncle Farrendel’s magic?”

Dacha’s fingers stilled in easing the tattered glove off Merrik’s hand, his shoulders rising and falling before he continued his work. “Yes. Once. During the fall of Gror Grar at the end of the wars with the trolls. Farrendel lost control of his magic.”

“That was when Aunt Essie braved the magic to go to him.” As Merrik had just done for Adry, though Aunt Essie had been fully immune to Uncle Farrendel’s magic by then.

“I helped King Weylind hold Essie’s brothers back from going to her. And held King Weylind back when he would have braved the magic once the Escarlish king and princes were safe.” Dacha inspected the burns on Merrik’s hand before he reached for the jar of salve once again. “Farrendel does not know.”

Of course he did not. Uncle Farrendel had feared his magic for so long. It would not have helped his mental state to know he’d burned his friend.

Would Merrik tell Adry? A part of him would rather she never found out. But he didn’t think it was something he could hide either.

This was the price he would continue to pay for loving a Laesornysh. Friendship with a Laesornysh had cost him a leg. Standing by Adry had gotten him burned. The future could see him hurt or injured again, either by her magic or their children’s.

And yet he would not make another choice, even knowing what his future would likely hold.

Dacha wrapped the bandage around Merrik’s hand before he met his gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Is she worth it?”

The question was rhetorical, of course. But Merrik answered anyway. “Yes.”

He had no hesitation there. His heart had been lost a long time ago. There was no taking it back now, no matter the cost.

“The future you are choosing will be a hard one.” Dacha tied off the bandage, wiped his fingers clean on a cloth, and rested his hand on Merrik’s shoulder. “But you will not be alone, sason.”

“Linshi.” Merrik gathered Adry into both of his arms once again.

He would not be like King Lorsan, struggling to raise a son with the magic of the ancient kings without anyone to help hold that power back when it lashed out of control.

Any children Merrik and Adry had with Laesornysh magic would have their mother, grandfather, aunt, and uncle to help teach them. Even those with powerful plant magic would have Merrik to teach them about their type of magic while Adry could use her magic to prevent their plants from growing out of control.

It might be hard in many ways, but he could handle hard. This past year had taught him that.

But with the people he loved around him, he could face whatever came, and that life would be good. So very good.

As the Alliance army organized their prisoners and army trucks rumbled along the dirt road to finalize securing the conquered Empress Line fortifications, Merrik shut his eyes and let himself finally dream of a future, his face splashed with the warmth of a sun rising over a land that, while not yet at peace, was no longer actively at war.

Chapter

Forty

Adry struggled into the growing awareness of the warmth and comfort of a bed wrapping around her body. One of her hands was tucked under the blankets, but the other was held in a lax grip.

Blinking her gummy eyes open, she squinted as the blurry shapes solidified into her room in the requisitioned house she’d been in when recovering from her wounds.

Tilting her head toward the light, she found Merrik’s head far closer than she’d expected. He’d slumped over in the chair set beside the bed, his head and one arm resting on the bed next to her and his other hand holding hers, though his fingers had gone slack with sleep. With the way he was slumped, she couldn’t see his face. His chestnut hair spread out across the bed and draped over the edge in a cascade highlighted by the lamplight.

Perhaps it was the fuzziness of sleep or the exhaustion still pressing heavily on her, but she found herself reaching for his hair with her free hand. It was just so tempting, lying there in shining, silken-looking strands.

No sooner had she brushed her fingers against his hair than Merrik jerked awake, sitting upright. His eyes—wide and almost panicked—focused on her. “Adry!”

“Hey.” Her voice was a croak.