Chapter 64
Ian stood next to Robin, hiding behind Rowena in the far stall of the stables.
They had found precious little time to be alone in the days after the attack, but Robin had remained at the castle with Ian while they had dealt with the aftermath. She’d said that she could better find homes for the Majis if she worked with him and used the castle’s resources.
He had invited her here, much like he used to, to sneak a few moments alone. And hopefully to share a kiss, but that was dependent on the question he still had to ask her.
“I love you, Robin of Lockwood,” he said. “I always have, and I probably always will.”
She looked up at him. Her eyes were bright, and a small smile danced around her lips.
“And if you are willing . . .” Ian stopped speaking, wanting to cradle her face in his hands as they spoke. But she deserved to hear this first, to know what he was proposing before he fully embraced her. “I have a question to pose to you.”
Robin was completely still as she stared up at him. Only the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest as she breathed a little too quickly showed any emotion. She did not respond, merely waited.
So Ian continued, looking away for a moment to break the intensity of her gaze. “I would like to ask . . . Would you still . . . I never thought I would be saying this.” He let out a quick exhale and met her eyes head on. “I want to offer the kingship to Onric. Do you think that is a good idea?”
Robin leaned back, searching his face to see if he was being serious. The shock on her face was evident. “Why?” she finally asked, not answering his question.
Ian smiled, feeling a deep relief from just having said the words out loud. “I would like to ask you to become my wife,” he said. “But I would never ask you to become a queen.”
Robin turned away, as though now she was overcome by the intensity of his gaze. “You would sacrifice your birthright for me?”
Ian turned to face the beautiful view of Rowena’s hindquarters.
“No,” he replied. “Well, yes, but also no. It is mostly for me, I think. I have lived my entire life under the weight of knowing I will become king. I have never had the freedom to make a decision for myself, to choose something for myself. I have never imagined a life other than the one that was laid out in front of me. But these last sevennights with you . . .” Ian exhaled again, moving his shoulders with the renewed energy of having no weight on them.
“I think Onric will make a far better king than I ever would.”
Robin was silent for a long time. Long enough that Ian started to get worried. He looked over at her, trying to make out what she was thinking. But he could only see the side of her face, and the tension that she held in the soft skin behind her eye.
Finally, she turned to him, her face completely serious. “And if I wanted to be queen?” she asked.
It was Ian’s turn to lean back, confused. “You want to be queen?” he said, trying to process her words. He looked down, his mind racing. “Then, I will not speak with Onric. I will take the crown . . .” He stopped.
His shoulders tensed, as all the weight of everything he had been trying to set aside came crashing back down on him. He looked back at her. Her face was still impassive, her gaze intense.
“I would beg you to reconsider,” he said. “I do not know if I can survive letting you walk out of my life again, but I also do not know if I can survive being king.”
Robin’s face twisted into an ugly mess as sudden tears spilled over from her eyes. “I do not want to be queen,” she said, shaking her head. “I do not want it.”
Unable to bear the sight of her tears, Ian held open his arms.
She threw herself into them, shaking against him as she sobbed. “I knew you were going to ask me to marry you, and I had prepared myself to say yes. Because I wanted a life with you, even if it meant giving up everything I love—or almost everything.”
“I know you, Robin,” Ian said, his mouth pressed against the side of her head. “I would never ask you to leave Lockwood, to leave your family there and the work you have built.” Strands of her light hair stuck to his tongue, and he twisted his head to the side to remove them.
She looked over at him. “Marry me, Ian Sirilian,” she said. “Come back to Lockwood with me and be my family.”
Ian answered her in the only way that seemed appropriate. He dropped his face to capture her lips with his own.
She slid her hands up his chest, wrapping them around the back of his neck while she kissed him back.
Holding her felt so right. Being held by her felt so right.
Unable to breathe as his throat tightened with emotion, he gently broke off the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.
“Are you still crying?” he asked, as her body was trembling against him.
She nodded, rubbing her wet cheek against his. “From happiness, I think. And relief. I love you so intensely, I do not know how to feel it without crying.”
“I am sure we can find other ways to express that love to each other,” Ian said, smiling as he nudged her nose with his own. “Or else you will be crying for the rest of your life.”
She laughed at that, pushing her mouth back up against his.
Ian relished her kiss. Never wanting it to end. Knowing that it never had to.
When they finally broke apart for air, Ian did not speak right away.
He held her, his cheek resting against her hair as he let himself feel the strange shape of this new possibility.
For the entirety of his life, he had carried a single certainty inside him, heavier than any crown.
It was the knowledge that he would one day be a king.
That certainty had been there before he fully understood what it meant, that quiet expectation was woven into every lesson, every interaction, every decision he had ever been handed.
He had never set it down. He had never known how to.
And now, he was letting it go.
There would be no throne. No coronation ceremony with his name solemnly spoken out over a crowded hall. Some small part of him braced for the grief, the familiar feeling that would wash over him every time he made a choice based in responsibility not desire.
But the grief did not come.
What he felt, instead, settling into the place where weight had always filled every crevice, was lightness. For the first time in his life, the path ahead was a cold walk down the same stone stairs. It was an open field behind a small stone manor and he could walk in whatever direction he chose.
Ian felt a laugh bubble through his chest as he looked down at Robin. “I hope Onric says yes.”
Robin stepped back, taking a moment to look up at Ian.
To truly look at all of him. This man standing in front of her with his serious eyes and strong shoulders.
This man who never stopped fighting, never stopped learning, never stopped changing.
This man who had carried the memory of their friendship even when he had lost the hope of ever having it again.
This man who had hurt her so deeply. Who had sacrificed everything, even his own happiness, to do what he thought was right.
She smiled. Except for right now. When he had chosen his own happiness and, in doing so, had also chosen her.
She wanted him.
She did not need him. She had Lockwood, she had Lane and Nele and Ulli and Ilida. She lived every day in a way that brought purpose and meaning to herself and to those around her.
She did not need this man.
But she wanted him.
She wanted him desperately.
She wanted all of him.
She wanted to know all of him. She wanted to see him come alive as he discovered the things that made him happy. She wanted to make him happy.
“I cannot read the intense look on your face,” Ian said. “So you are going to have to tell me what you are planning.”
“I wasn’t planning anything.” She grinned, knowing he would not believe her.
He raised his eyebrows.
“I never allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to have you in my life. Then you came to Lockwood. And now I want that. I want you.” The words floated out on top of her breath. “I want you in my home, and in my travels—I even want you in my ledgers.”
He was smiling a half smile she had never seen before. It was relaxed and pleased, and it sent a spark of feeling through her whole body, like a touch of harmony magic that flooded through her and could not be contained.
“I want all of you,” she said again. She threw herself forward with abandon, knowing that he would catch her.
And he did.
She slammed against his chest, capturing his face in her hands and crushing his mouth to hers.
She wanted to know who this man would become if he allowed himself to be happy. And she hoped that her kiss was telling him how much happiness she envisioned for both of them.
Dropping her hands to his chest, she pulled her head back for a moment to breathe and looked up at him with mock concern. “I hope Onric says yes!”
Ian laughed. The sound was a delightful bubble of ease. “I am certain he will. And if he does not, there is always Aden. Or Sol. Or Meena. Or even Erich.”