Chapter 31 #2
“Another picnic? This is your grand apology?”
Her ire coaxes a smile to my lips. I clasp her small hands in mine. “Forgive me, Mayah.”
I lead her to the edge of the terrace, the capital stretching out before us. “This is what I wanted to show you on our wedding night. Before the evening … took a turn.”
She snorts. “That’s one way to describe an assassination attempt.”
I chuckle, drawing her close until her back is flush with my chest. “This was my favorite view in all of Arbinj,” I whisper in her ear.
“Was?”
It’s you now, baby. It’s you.
But I can’t say that. Not yet.
So, instead, I tell her, “I used to come here as a boy when I wanted to be alone—which was often.”
“I’m not surprised you were grumpy and brooding even back then.” My fingers skim over her abdomen, and her breath catches.
“All that brooding paid off,” I rumble in my deepest voice. I know what effect it has on her, and I’m not opposed to using it to melt away her anger. “Since you love my fierce scowl.”
“I didn’t say I love it,” she breathes. “Only that I liked it.” The currents around her hum in agreement.
I press a chaste kiss over her racing pulse, resting my forehead against her temple.
“I’m doing this all wrong, Mayah. I’m truly, truly sorry.
In my efforts to keep you safe, I’m making you resent me.
I wish we could spend every minute together.
When I’m not with you, believe me that you dominate my every thought.
Give me another chance. I’ll do better.”
Her energy signature spreads, as if reaching for me.
“And how, exactly, will you do better?”
My clever girl. Not letting me off the hook so easily.
“You can freely explore the palace. With guards,” I add quickly.
“One guard,” she insists.
“Four.”
“One.”
“Two.” I pinch her side playfully. “No less.”
“Fine.” She narrows her eyes, glancing at me sideways. “What else?”
“You can heal in the infirmary as you please. Just—don’t burn through your reserves. I know food was … limited in Tundrayn. We have no such scarcity here. I won’t have you collapsing to prove a point.”
“And?” she prompts. Her bright smile steals my breath.
I tickle her ribs, and a breathy laugh escapes her.
“You’re being cruel. You already have me on my knees,” I murmur, affection threading every word.
“I’ll work less, I swear it. I’ve been putting off going to the border, thinking it was enough.
But I realize now, even with me here, we spend too much time apart.
I’ve been a fool, Mayah.” I press a soft kiss to her temple.
“But I’ll learn. Have patience with me.”
“All right,” she whispers. “One more chance.”
I hold her tightly, inhaling her tantalizing scent. Skies, I’ve missed her.
We sit on the blanket and eat our dinner beneath the stars. She asks me about the Rebellion, and I ask about the patients today and her books, my hands never far from her knee or arm or shoulder.
“Will your father and brother disapprove of me healing in the infirmary?” she asks quietly, worrying her lower lip.
“Don’t worry about them,” I reassure. “I’ll handle them. You do as you please.”
My fingers smooth over her hair, weaving through the dark locks. “I have something for you. It’s long overdue.”
The servant presented it to me after I left the council chambers, his hands shaking. The jeweler had dropped it off and made himself scarce. He needn’t have worried this time—it was perfect.
The small box feels heavy in my palm as I retrieve it from my pocket. I flip open the lid to show her, mouth suddenly dry, and look at my wife expectantly.
Her breath rushes out, fingers rising to brush against her mother’s necklace—the twin to her new ring.
“I had it made for you,” I murmur, shifting closer until our knees touch. “It took longer than I expected.”
Not a word crosses her lips, but a lone tear tracks a wet path down her cheek.
Skies damn me. I couldn’t even get this right.
“You don’t like it?”
She shakes her head, slender throat bobbing. “It’s perfect.”
No prickles.
A relieved huff of breath. I grasp her hand, brushing my fingers over her knuckles, before carefully sliding the ring onto her finger.
She stares at her hand, at the symbol of our marriage.
“You’re trembling,” I murmur when she meets my gaze.
I press a kiss to her palm, then press it to my cheek, willing her to see the love in my eyes, though I don’t dare voice it. Not yet. “I know this doesn’t make up for everything. But I hope it’s a start.”
She nods again, her eyes almost glazed as she stares into mine. Her lips part, and unbidden, my gaze drops.
Skies, I want to kiss her.
But I don’t.
Because I want her to kiss me. To want me. To choose me.
I want her to claim me, call me hers, because she didn’t choose to call me husband. Not truly.
I’m content to wait until then. Her gaze swirls with unchecked emotion, unshed tears glimmering in the moonlight. Soon, her beautiful blue eyes seem to whisper.
I lean forward, pressing my forehead to hers. Our breaths mingle in the scant space, and I let myself imagine a whisper of disappointment in her soft sigh.