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She brushed her long hair in front of the fire, the swishing of the bristles making him long for those nights in Ordelpho with her, right before bed. “Oh, Lucius, it’s so nice to be clean again.”
He squatted down beside her and touched a slippered foot. “Sierra.”
The brush stopped and she rested it on her lap. “Am I going to like what you have to say?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You usually don’t start conversations with my name.”
He chuckled, but to his ears it sounded empty.
“What is it? Just tell me.”
“I want you to stay here,” he said. “With your parents, while we go to the Basilica.”
“Absolutely not.”
Lucius sighed and tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away, whip-fast, from him.
“Will you at least hear me out?” he asked hoarsely.
“I will. It won’t do you any good, though, so you might as well just put your mouth to better use.”
Desire rose to a fever pitch in an instant at her innuendo. “You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”
Her grin was genuine, but he knew her well enough to know that if he dared to touch her right now, she’d reject him out of temper.
So instead, he stood and sat down in the chair directly across from her. “Please do this for me, Sierra. Knowing you are here, safe, fed, warm… I’ll be able to focus on what it is we need to do.”
“That’s not my problem, Lucius. I’m not staying. Not only will I worry my guts out, but I think I have to be there. I told you about the elemental, told you I saw her in the Order’s dungeon. I’m a part of this.”
He gritted his teeth and looked away. “Those fucking elementals and whoever, whatever, else are responsible for this. It is them who should be getting that woman out, not you.” When he looked at her again, her expression was full of compassion, both for the woman trapped in ice in some gods-forsaken realm and for his pain. He knew then that no matter what he said, no matter how much he were to beg, she was resolved in this.
“I will be okay. Do I want to stay here? Oh, Lucius, I do. So much. But it’s not the way this needs to play out.”
“You sound like Demos.”
She left her seat and crawled into his lap. “When this is over, we’ll have all the time in the world. I promise.”
“You can promise no such thing if you’re dead.” Fear and irritation battled it out inside him, and he wrapped his arms around her small body, wanting to shrink her and press her into his skin, like one of his tattoos. She’d have no choice but to stay with him, warm and safe. But he’d learned long ago that taking away her choice, her agency, made a lie of what he loved most about her.
Her warm palm cupped his face. “I love you, Lucius. And I do promise to do everything in my power to make sure I stay alive. Will you promise me the same?”
“I promise.” He kissed her on the nose.
“Now, I’m going to finish up here, have someone send us up some food, have it just be me and you. Meanwhile, I want you to bathe and shave that gods-awful fur off your face. I miss your face.”
“Fine,” he said, laughing.
“Good.”
Later, when he was freshly shaved, bathed, and had changed into clean clothes, he sat across from her at the small table the servants had brought in. In the candlelight, Sierra looked ethereal. And exhausted.
“How do you think it went with your parents?” He took a sip of wine. Very good wine. He’d have to remember to ask about its vintage.
“I think… I think they understood as much as they could. My mother likes you.”
“Oh, she does, does she? She has good taste.” He winked at her, and she laughed.
