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"Not in the slightest."
The truth in his words sent warmth spreading through her body. The heat was amplified when Isael reached across the table to take her hand in his.
"I had no idea you'd be like this," he told her. "Like me. Whenever I see you, I feel an instinctual pull. It's more than just the rhyming. It's as if I am being drawn to reattach with an errant piece of myself."
He could not have more succinctly encapsulated how she herself had begun to feel. It was like a variation of her awakening ability to discern truth from lies. The closer she was to him, the more she felt complete, whole, and right. When she wasn't with him, a vague sense of wrongness crept over her, until she was anxious to be near him once more.
"Are we ever going to be able to part ways?"
Isael turned her hand over in his, stroking his thumb against her palm. The delicate sensation rippled out across her body, making her feel light and airy.
"Do you think we'll be able to part ways?" He countered.
Too afraid of how she might answer, she asked, "Is this feeling going to grow stronger?"
"I suspect so," he said, sounding not the least bit disturbed by the prospect.
"We hardly know one another."
And I'm just the granddaughter of an Ateran selondis.
"I don't think that matters. Like attracts like, and you are the only one like me." Shifting closer to her, he said, "I know you didn't choose this, and for that, I am sorry. But what is done, is done. You and I are bound by blood, and I don't believe either of us is interested in changing that."
He paused, giving her space to contradict him. Cera couldn't think over the pounding of her heart in her ears, and her throat remained stubbornly thick.
"Good," he said. "You are right that we hardly know one another, but we cannot lie to one another and there is already a bond forming between us. Intimacy and trust will come with time, but for now I'd rather not suffer playing coy.
"Assuming you're in accord, I'd like to have you as my consort, and I assure you, the position is not that of aglorified concubine. You'd be my partner, and none would be able to question why I'll keep you at my side during the days and in my bed during the nights. If the gods will it, we'll have children. When that happens, I'll settle for nothing less than having our children born to the high lord and high lady."
And because she was too thick-skulled or perhaps overwhelmed to take in his meaning, he clarified, "In time, I would have you asmywife, Cera."
The Offer
Isael wanted her as his wife.
The idea wasn't beyond Cera's wildest imaginings, though it felt more like the plot of a childish daydream. Certainly, as a girl, she'd fantasized about the high lord taking her away to his magical castle and falling madly in love with her.
Ever pragmatic, she'd also been a far more interesting woman in such fantasies. Perhaps she'd grow into a famed beauty, irresistible even to the most strong-willed men. When she was feeling more inventive, she'd imagine learning to wield a sword and winning the high lord's respect by defeating him in a duel.
In all of her girlhood fantasies, the offer of marriage was the climax of the narrative, the goal she had to strive for. Yet here, in the bizarre reality she now sat in, it felt like only the beginning.
She looked him over, as if there was a single part of him she hadn't committed to memory. Isael watched her with a serene expression, his chin propped on the heel of his palm. His silver hair hung down to frame his face, one side of which was illuminated by light from the hearth, the other by moonlight from the oculus.
There was no sign of jest on his beautifully wrought features, nor did he seem concerned that she'd reject the offer—if it even was an offer. Now that she thought about it, he hadn't actually asked her to be his wife, he'd merely expressed that he intended to make her so.
It was his streak of arrogance, something she was becoming familiar with. Granted, if she were the son of a dragon god and the high lord of an entire race of peoples, she didn't think humility or modesty would suit her either.
Trying to appear nonchalant—a weak effort considering the moments she'd spent in stunned silence—Cera moved to pour herself more wine. She'd already drank considerably more than she had the night before, yet her mind felt sharper and more alert than ever.
"You've given me much to think on," Cera said, impressed that her voice remained even.
"A prudent response," Isael said, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Though many women would swoon at such an offer."
Because she could tell he was teasing her, Cera decided to nudge back.
"Perhaps you'd rather propose to one of them?" She asked lightly, taking a sip of her drink.
"I'll settle for nothing less than you."
