Chapter 62
Maeve
FINALLY, THE COTTAGE HAS HEATED up, and even the floorboards are warm as I move through the tiny sitting room, a big platter of crunchy bread held in my hands.
Severin looks up from where he’s sitting on the rug before the fire, a glass of red wine held in one hand. When I set the platter down next to the bowls of butternut squash soup I already served, his eyes widen.
“That looks amazing,” he says, leaning forward just a bit to breathe in the steam rising off the loaf. His dark eyes flick to me as I settle onto the rug across from him, tucking my legs beneath me. “I didn’t know you could bake.”
I rip a chunk off the bread, not bothering with the bread knife, and dip it into my soup.
“My parents are terrible at cooking,” I say.
“So my stepbrother and I had to learn.” I take a bite and sigh.
The bread is perfect, and the soup is rich and creamy.
After swallowing, I take a sip of the wine Severin poured for me and ask, “Are you any good at cooking?”
He lifts one shoulder in a subtle shrug. “Not particularly.”
My lips curl up on one side. “Three hundred years and you still can’t cook?”
This garners a small smile from him. “I didn’t say I can’t cook—only that I’m not skilled at it. I spent my time on other pursuits.”
Arching a brow, I ask, “Such as?”
He takes a piece of bread for himself, and I watch his teeth sink into it, his fangs catching the firelight. He chews thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “Books, mostly. Traveling. Learning.”
My smile slips away, and I take a few spoonfuls of soup. “Where have you traveled?”
In all the time we’ve spent together, Severin still feels like a mystery to me, like he’s a book I’ve only just begun reading. And I want to cherish every word on every single page.
His gaze goes to the fire, and he takes a sip of wine. “Many places. I’ve traveled through the snowcapped peaks of Norwyth, and I’ve walked the sands of Dunmara. I’ve sailed with pirates on the Charmed Sea.”
I lower my wineglass. “You’ve sailed with pirates?”
His eyes flick to meet mine, and the dancing flames reflect in his dark irises. “Do you find that hard to believe?”
I tip my head. “Somewhat.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a historian. An academic.” I gesture to him—his crisp vest and gleaming cuff links, the ones he’s started wearing again since I found the lost one in the hall. “It’s hard to imagine you sailing with rogues and drinking grog.”
He gives me a smile, his fangs peeking through. “Had you known me in my younger years, you would not be so surprised.”
“Hmm.” I lift my wineglass to my lips, just starting to feel a slight buzz. Then I set it aside and scoot closer to Severin. “You were a rogue yourself, then?”
His eyes sparkle with humor. I like seeing him this way—leaning back on one hand, dark hair tousled, sipping a glass of wine. It took him a few hours, but by the time I’d finished dicing and stirring and preparing our meal, he’d settled in, and now he appears right at home.
“You could say that.”
I scoot closer. “Is that how you learned to wield a sword? Aboard a pirate ship?”
A laugh rumbles in his chest. “It’s how I started. But it’s taken decades to learn.” His gaze slides to me. “You have many questions tonight.”
Now it’s my turn to shrug. “I want to know more about you. Everything about you.”
“That could take a very long time.”
His words remind me of the decision I’m on the precipice of making—the decision that might grant me more time, here on this earth, with Severin, with my magic, with Isis.
I lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. His stubble is rough against my lips. As I lean back, I whisper, “We have time.”
A muscle jumps along his jaw. Is he thinking about it too? Wondering what decision I’ll make?
I reach for my hunk of bread and peel another bite off. “Your turn.”
Severin arches a brow. “My turn what?”
“To ask me a question. Or do you think you know everything there is to know about me?”
He swirls the wine in his glass and gives a small shake of his head. “I’m certain I could live another three hundred years and still not know all there is to know about you.”
“Well . . .” I cross my legs and lean back on my hands. “You’d better get started.”
Severin takes a spoonful of soup, appearing in no rush. After dabbing his lips with a napkin, he says, “Tell me about your friends.”
“My friends?”
“They seem important to you.”
I nod. “They are. We’ve been together since our first year at the academy.” A small smile finds its way onto my lips as I tell Severin about Alina, Lyra, and Poppy—and all the struggles and triumphs we’ve had over the past three and a half years together.
“And what of next year?” he asks, setting his bowl aside. He ate every bite and wiped it clean with the last piece of bread. “Will you be going separate ways?”
His question brings a hint of sadness to my heart.
“I suppose so. I’ll hopefully get the fellowship with the Arcanum Collective, Alina and Raelan will return to the castle, Lyra’s probably going to join Cairn at the conservatory, and Poppy .
. .” A small smile touches my mouth. “I think she’s going to move to Faunwood to be with Aric, though she hasn’t realized it yet. ”
“You’ll not be so far from one another, then.”
I shake my head. “No. But it’ll still be different without them.” Meeting Severin’s eyes, I say, “Now it’s my turn.”
He nods and lifts his wineglass, only to find it empty. Sitting forward to grab the bottle from the rug between us, he says, “Go ahead.”
“Have you ever fucked one of your students before?”
He stops mid-pour, glancing up to meet my eyes.
“I mean, before me.” A playful smile curls across my lips.
He finishes pouring his wine, then tops my glass before putting the cork back into the bottle. “No. You were the first.”
That makes something inside me twist in glee, but I try not to show it. “What made you choose to risk it with me? Risk your job and your reputation?”
A hint of a smile tugs on his mouth as he sits back, leaning against the couch. “If you think I had a choice in the matter, you don’t yet understand my feelings for you.”
His words ignite a spark low in my belly.
I watch how he lifts the wineglass to his lips, the bob of his throat as he swallows.
And suddenly, I find myself moving toward him, taking the glass from his hand and setting it aside, seating myself in his lap with my knees on either side of his hips. His eyes widen just slightly.
“Then help me understand,” I whisper. Leaning forward, I brush my lips delicately across his. “Why me, Severin?”
His hands find my waist, long fingers pressing into the skin there.
He reclines back against the couch, looking up into my eyes.
“Because you smell like a summer storm, and you feel like one too. Because for the first time in so many years, you made me feel something again, like a statue come back to life.” One of his hands lifts, fingertips trailing along my cheek.
“Because after one conversation, you took up permanent residence in my mind. And no matter how hard I tried, you refused to leave.” His eyes narrow. “You’ve bewitched me, furtuna mea.”
I lean forward slowly. My forehead touches his, resting there. My long hair falls around us, trapping us in our own quiet world. “All spells can be broken.”
“Not this one.” His voice is a low grumble. “I told you before: Until you no longer want me, I’m yours.”
I shift closer to him, wrapping both hands around the back of his head. “Then you’re going to be with me for a very long time.”
His lips turn up just slightly. “It will never be long enough.”
Then I kiss those lips, pressing my mouth to his. He tastes like wine and smells like woodsmoke. His body is warm beneath mine, warmer than the fire flickering at my back.
Our bond flashes with heat, making us both gasp against each other’s mouths.
“Severin . . .” I whisper against his lips. Then I pull back, just far enough to look into his eyes.
He looks back, dark gaze trained on mine. Waiting, watching.
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me,” I say quietly. My fingers play with the long hair at his nape, and I watch the firelight dance in his near-black eyes. “About the bond. About what it could mean if it becomes . . . permanent.”
Beneath me, his body feels still as stone.
“Maeve—”
I lean forward, stealing his words away with my lips. Then I whisper, “Wait. I need to say this.”
He nods once, jaw tight, lapsing back into silence.
With a sigh, I settle my weight more firmly in his lap. “It scared me,” I admit. “The thought of living longer than I should, watching those I love die.”
The words hang between us. Severin offers no words of comfort, of which there are none. There is only truth.
“It’s not the life I imagined for myself. But . . .” I tighten my fingers around the back of his neck, weaving them together as if I can hold the two of us here forever through sheer force of will. “But my life was already changing, even before I met you. And I don’t want to fear change.”
His eyes meet mine, a slow furrow forming in his brow.
“When I think about what the bond could be . . . it doesn’t feel like something being taken from me. It feels like an offering. Something I’m choosing.”
His chest stops rising and falling, his breath catching.
“And I choose you, Severin.” Mist gathers in my eyes. “I don’t know what the future holds, and I won’t pretend I’m not at least somewhat afraid.” A small breath of laughter leaves me in a whisper. “But I want my future to include you. All of you.”
As the words leave my mouth, I feel conviction in them. And I know what I want.
My decision has been made.
Through our thread of connection, I feel the moment Severin realizes what I’m saying, understands the implications for us both.
For a long while, he says nothing. Behind me, the fire crackles, and the winter wind makes the cottage creak in the darkness, tossing the flames in the hearth.
Severin’s fingers tighten on my waist. “Maeve . . .” My name leaves his lips like a spell, like a prayer to the goddesses. His throat bobs as he swallows, and his eyes search mine, as if he’s trying to find a hint of hesitation.
But I don’t look away.
His eyes narrow in the corners. “This isn’t something we can undo,” he reminds me. “You will be tying yourself to me in a way that cannot be undone.”
“I know,” I whisper, leaning in to press my forehead to his once more, my eyes fluttering closed.
At long last, he says, “I won’t make decisions for you. Your future is yours, Maeve. Are you sure this is what you want?”
That’s all I’ve wanted: Him to see me as his equal rather than a delicate witch who needs constant sheltering and protection. Him to let me make choices instead of being controlled by his, regardless of where those choices might lead me.
“I’m sure.”
The bond between us rejoices.
And Severin watches, fire flickering in his eyes, as I sit back and reach to pull my sweater over my head.