Chapter 6 #3
"Maybe." She moves around to face me, and I pull her between my knees, my hands settling on her hips. "But they're following you into war. That's different."
"I know."
"Are you afraid?"
Honest question. Deserves an honest answer.
"Yes," I tell her. "Not of dying. I've been dying for ten years. But of failing them. Of getting them all killed because I couldn't let you go."
Her hands cup my face. "You're not failing anyone. You're giving them a choice—bow to a crown that sees them as expendable, or stand with a lord who actually values their lives."
"Pretty speech."
"I've been practicing." She kisses me softly. "We're going to win, Vorak."
"How can you be so sure?"
She pulls back enough to meet my eyes, and that golden light pulses gently under her skin.
"Because I've seen what you become when you fight for something you love," she says. "And it's terrifying and beautiful and unstoppable."
She believes it.
Absolutely. Completely.
And maybe that's enough.
I pull her into my lap, and she comes willingly, tucking herself against my chest like she was made to fit there.
"Tell me about the light," I say quietly. "The magic. Do you understand it yet?"
"Not really." She's quiet for a moment. "I can feel it responding to things. To danger. To you. To..." She trails off, and I feel her cheeks heat.
"To what?"
"To how I feel about you," she admits. "When I'm with you, when we're... together... it's warm. Gentle. But when you were cursed, when I thought I'd lose you, it was—"
"Explosive."
"Yes."
I think about that. About magic tied to emotion. To love and fear and everything in between.
"The crown's going to want to study it," I tell her. "Figure out how to replicate it. Weaponize it."
"I know."
"We can't let them take you."
"I know that too." She tilts her head up. "That's why I'm staying here. With you. Where I'm safe."
"Safe is relative when there's an army coming."
"Then we'd better make sure we're ready."
She says it so simply. Like war is just another problem to solve.
My brave, impossible mate.
I kiss her because I can't not kiss her.
And when we finally pull apart, I make her a promise:
"Whatever comes," I tell her. "Whatever the crown sends. We face it together."
"Together," she agrees.
And for tonight, that's enough.
Next in The Cursed Marriage Auctions…
The crown tightens its leash. The amphitheater opens again.
A new bride is dragged onto the block—not to be sold, but to be broken.
And the monster who steps into the blood-lit arena doesn’t come to bid.
He comes to claim.