17. Chapter 17 #2
I drew back just enough that I could look into her eyes and drink in her features.
What would it be like to kiss her? my head wondered.
Heaven, my heart replied. For once they were in agreement, and I had the sudden desperate urge to tilt her chin up and press my mouth to hers.
I leaned in, but caught myself. I couldn’t do that.
She was comforting me. I couldn’t take advantage of that by turning it into more.
So instead I pulled her close again and just held her.
I blinked back tears as the pleasure of holding her combined with the bitter ache of not being able to make her mine.
“Dorian dragged you into this?” I finally asked. I should be angry at him for disregarding my wishes, but my relief was too profound.
She pulled back just enough that she could look up at me, her eyes swimming with uncertainty. “Why is she here?” she asked in a tiny voice.
I pinched my eyes shut, wanting to kick myself. Of course she was upset about Saria. “It wasn’t my idea. Dorian was there, in Ravencairn. He was interested in her, but then she decided to come here. I guess because…because…”
“Because she thought you’d be king soon, and she saw an opportunity?”
Her words slapped me across the face, not because they were cruel or biting—they weren’t—but because they rang with such truth.
How had I not seen it? Saria wanted to be queen.
I was going to be a king. And yet…was I any better for considering a union with her for the exact same reason?
I was going to be king. I needed a queen.
I was no better than she.
In fact, I was worse, because right in front of me was a woman whom I loved and who obviously cared deeply for me. “I didn’t know what to do,” I admitted, my whole body feeling heavy, as if it wanted to surrender to either sleep or death right in that moment. “You saw…you saw how I fell apart.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t do it, Lyri. I’m…incapable of ruling on my own.
I thought…” There seemed no excuse for the fact that I’d honestly considered marrying the princess, but I wanted to explain, and I hoped she would understand, if only a little.
“Saria knows how things work. She’s been raised to be a queen. I thought she could help.”
My body went suddenly cold as Lyri stepped abruptly out of my embrace, her face blanketed with such pain and torment that it physically hurt me to see it.
“Why didn’t you ask me to help you?” Her mouth trembled as she asked it.
“I couldn’t.” The words were pathetic, unworthy of either her or me.
“You needed help, and you didn’t ask me. But you asked her?” Her voice cracked and her eyes filled with tears as she took another step back. “You prefer her over me?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why?”
“I don’t want to use you.”
“What are you talking about? It’s not using me.”
“It is,” I insisted, determined to tell her the truth, determined to do what was right, instead of what I wanted. “I needed you, and I came to you day after day so that you could fix me,” I spat in disgust. “How is that different from the way the villagers used you for your gift?”
She tilted her head, quiet for several moments before answering. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know!”
“Well, you’re wrong. You never used me.”
“Yes, I did. I needed you.”
“And I needed you!”
My head told me that those words should have made me feel used, and yet my heart latched onto them, proud that she would see me in such a way, and more than willing to fill that role. We both stared at one another, our breathing labored.
“I don’t have very much experience with…friendship,” she said in a much calmer tone. “But I think that what we had was friendship, wasn’t it?”
“Of course.” Even if I wanted so much more from her.
She nodded. “And that included being together and laughing together, talking about hard things and happy things. I shared my burdens with you and you were honest with me. You listened to me.” She pressed a hand to her heart as if my simple act of listening had been some great gift.
“Tavric, the people who came to my tower only wanted to take from me. With the exception of Gregor, they didn’t want to know me.
They didn’t want to hear what was on my mind or in my heart.
They didn’t care if I was sad, so they never bothered to make me smile.
You think you’ve taken from me, and you have, but I was more than willing to give, and you gave me just as much in return. Do you regret giving me so much?”
“I didn’t give anything.”
She took two steps and put her small hands on either side of my neck, forcing me to look at her.
“You gave me everything,” she said with a sternness that surprised me.
“You asked me not just what I needed, but what I wanted, and then you just…gave it—with no thought of what I could give you in return. You gave me earth and flower and ocean. You taught me to dance. You gave me companionship and kindness.” Moving her hands from my neck, she instead shoved at my chest in frustration.
“How can you say that’s nothing when those things are exactly what I’ve craved for years? ”
Her words made sense, but I was afraid to really believe them. “I just don’t want to hurt you more.”
She grabbed the front of my shirt. “Then stop pushing me away,” she begged, emotion suddenly choking her voice.
The great iron gate I’d been using to lock away all my inconvenient longing for her broke open, unlocked by her pleading eyes. And as we stood there, so close, breathing each others’ air, I made a decision.
I covered her small hands with mine and tugged them gently from my shirt, then moved them up and around me, reveling in the feel of her fingers resting against the back of my neck.
Her eyes widened a bit, and I appreciated the small gasp of surprise that made her lips pop open.
“Is this better?” I asked as I threaded my own hands around her waist.
She gave a silent and quick nod of her head.
The words I love you clung to my tongue and pushed at the back of my teeth, but I swallowed them down.
Not yet, my mind prompted. I wanted so much to confess my feelings, to kiss her, but instead I rested my temple against hers and closed my eyes.
“I want you and I need you, but I’m scared I won’t be good for you,” I admitted.
“You are.” She angled her face so that her lips were wonderfully, torturously close to mine. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” The words fanned over my own mouth.
Kissing her suddenly became a necessity.
In that moment, it was no longer a choice; it was simply what must be done.
So I did. I pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, worried that too much would overwhelm her, but as soon as I pulled back, she chased after me, reclaiming the kiss and pulling me closer.
I kissed her again, slow and sweet, feeling my whole body sigh into her as I let go of my worry and allowed myself to love her. Because that was the truth of the matter—I loved her.
Pulling back again, I skimmed the backs of my fingers down her cheek, swimming in the realization of just how much I loved this woman and everything that meant. I’d known her for so little time, and my head wanted to argue that loving her could not happen so fast, but my heart was sure.
She smiled up at me, clearly content with this new development.
“I missed you,” I confessed in a bare whisper. “It was only a few days, but I couldn’t really breathe without you, my love.” The endearment slipped past my throat without my permission.
She snuggled closer and buried her face in my neck, breathing me in like I’d seen her do with the soil outside.
“Tell me what you’ve been doing these past days. I want to know everything.”
She stiffened and I ran my own words through my head. What had I said?