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Aeryn made a noise of protest at that, but he wasn’t having it. He held her gaze, and doubled down. “You were a bright light, guiding me toward a better place, even two years after I’d cast myself off into the dark. And because I could remember that light, and what it had meant to me, when I looked around at the state of the kingdom I was able to look at my own sister in a different way. She suffered as much as I did in the roles we’d been cast in. The only difference was that she’d been thrust into the role of the black sheep. The party princess who no one could depend upon unless there was a new club opening somewhere.”

“In fairness, she has always seemed happy enough with that role,” Aeryn said. She flushed a bit when he lifted a brow, because he knew for a fact they had never crossed paths. “I might have read a tabloid or two, in my time. I’m only human.”

He accepted that, his mouth curving slightly. But he pressed on. “The reality of my sister is that she is highly educated, incredibly intelligent, and has spent her life coming up with creative ways to tell the entire Lianderoan establishment where to go. Anyone else that I could possibly have considered, even if my sister hadn’t been the next in line, came with the same kind of baggage I did. Generations of arranged marriages, betrothals, couples who hated each other, and thought that was nothing more or less than the appropriate way to handle marriages steeped in wealth and consequence. My sister could not be like that if she tried. Another reality is that she knows almost as much about the kingdom as I do and she has never been as foolish or out of touch as the press had made her out to be. I thought, and I still think, and I don’t believe I am being self-serving, that she will make a tremendous queen. Not least because she will inevitably shake everything up and start over. There’s no possible way that I could have done the same. No matter what I did as king. That hidebound traditionalism is deep inside me. It devoured me, long ago, and I don’t think there could be any coming back from that.”

He let out a breath, and could hear how jagged it was. “The final reason I went through with it is because when I made the decision that I was really going to do it, I felt absolutely nothing but peace. Relief. The only thing I could see was your face.”

“Damn you,” Aeryn whispered, leaning closer and taking his face between her hands. “You impossible man. What is anyone meant to say to that?”

“You don’t have to say a word,” he assured her. “But know that when I tell you I love you, Aeryn, I mean it. I’m not entirely certain I have ever loved anyone or anything else.”

And when she kissed him, it felt like the bright, insistent beam of a lighthouse, guiding him home. Keeping them safe.

This time, when he carried her to the bed in the next room, he laid her down and he did not give in to that driving heat inside of him.

This time, he worshiped her. He thanked her and glorified her with his hands and his tongue.

He kept it slow, languorous.

And when it seemed she might get impatient, and rush her way through, he slowed down further still.

It still took some accommodation for him to make his way fully inside her, but when he did, he held her beneath his body and he touched his forehead to hers.

And then everything was slow, hot, and inexpressibly beautiful.

They moved together like fate, and shuddered over the finish line with their mouths fused together, as if they really were one.

And as he drifted off to sleep once more, Vesuvius had the very distinct thought that it was all worth it, if it led here. Every painful moment, every torturous night alone, it all had a purpose, if it ended here.

The two of them wrapped up together, two pieces making a whole, at last.

Chapter Ten

Aeryn slept, hard. Then she woke up again, too soon.

Vesuvius was stretched out beside her in this bed she’d never expected to share with him, his heavy arm anchoring her to the mattress. Aeryn didn’t want to be awake. She’d hoped she’d sleep until this all felt like less of a dream, but that didn’t appear to be on order.

The sun wouldn’t be up for another hour, but the light was shifting outside. She lay there for some time, gazing out the window but seeing only the past. The past she’d experienced as well as the past he’d filled her in on, trying to make it match.

She must have gotten in an hour or two of sleep, but dawn was coming whether she liked it or not. Aeryn had thought that last night would never end. Now she wished she could hold on to it a little while longer.

It was Christmas morning. The sun would be up soon. And she knew that every single part of her wanted to believe what he’d told her last night.

More than she wanted anything else she could think of, in fact.

Not that she disbelieved the details he’d shared with her. She had believed him when he’d told her the sequence of events and revelations that were how he’d come to abdicate. She was also certain that he hadn’t told her a single lie about his feelings.

But what she did not believe, what she could not believe, was that he had really turned his back on his kingdom.

Because the Vesuvius she knew never would nor could—to his detriment.

How many times had she seen it play out? He had come to her, thrilled that he would get a little bit of distance. She would watch the weight he carried disappear as they sank into each other.

And she would watch it return, heavier each time, when his mobile would ring. When there would be a knock on their door, indicating a situation that required his presence. He had always looked like it was tearing him apart—but he’d never denied the calls or turned his back on what was required of him.

Not even when it turned out that many of the calls could have been handled by someone else. It was simply that the palace was used to Vesuvius being hands-on with everything, and could not understand his pleas for a little privacy.

But he also never set them straight.