Chapter 42 #3
Yes, he’d experienced a far calmer ache from that monster inside him, but it never felt quite so at peace as in that moment.
Before that night, even with the completed bond, the impending battles and high stress of facilitating the creation of a new government kept him from relaxing.
Now he followed her across the long, decorative rugs of her old home with a strange sensation of tranquility that he’d never before experienced.
Not even before the initial bond had snapped into place.
The serenity lasted all of a handful of heartbeats before Ariadne came to a halt at a door—the door—before Azriel’s stomach twisted with guilt and shame.
She didn’t look at him as she ran her fingers down the wood to the latch, then pushed it open and entered the one place Azriel never once believed himself to be invited within.
As such, he paused at the threshold and waited.
To his relief, the furniture within appeared unharmed and placed back in its rightful places.
When last he’d left it, the small tables beside the lounge had been upended, chairs strewn about, and a mirror broken somewhere in the middle of the room.
The books she’d been reading that night had been abandoned, and the rugs were bunched at one end.
All of it an endless barrage of his own ineptitude from a constant catch and release as he’d struggled to cope with the new bond.
Ariadne slid her hand over the backside of a tall chair near an empty hearth before turning to survey a bookcase inlaid in the wall.
From it, she plucked a book, her face taut with unspoken emotions, flipped through the pages, then replaced it on the shelf.
Only then did she turn her face to him and offer a small smile, holding out her hand.
Without question, Azriel passed over the invisible boundary he’d set for himself and closed the distance between them. Taking her hand, he pressed his lips to her fingers, never once looking away from those perfect ocean eyes.
Humming with satisfaction, Ariadne turned her body and cupped his cheek. “How different we both are now.”
Azriel leaned into the touch, closing his eyes as he relished the feeling of her palm on his face. “I am sorry for all of it.”
The soft laugh had him snapping his gaze to her just before she adjusted to hold his face in both hands. She leaned up and brushed her lips over his. “I am sorry for much, but not all of it, for I would not be here now with you had you not broken through that door.”
Swallowing hard, he met her light kiss with one a bit more fervent. “There are many things I would do differently, given the opportunity.”
“Do not say that.” Ariadne stepped back, sliding her fingers down his shoulder and arm to grab his hand, and turned toward the tall glass doors that led to the veranda.
Still, Azriel’s heart gave a throb. “I regret—”
“Hush.” Ariadne pulled him forward to where she opened the veranda door and stepped outside into the frozen winter air.
She brushed the snow from the top of the railing before leaning on it and looking out at the gardens below.
While much of the now-castle had been changed, the view from her old room had not.
“Do you wonder how your life would be now if that night had not happened?” he ventured to ask, not entirely wanting to know the answer.
Ariadne grunted in response, the very un-Caersan-like habit picked up after so long amongst the dhemons. She grinned up at him, then sobered as she said, “Of course. I know precisely how things would have been had you never gone through with it.”
Raising his eyebrows, Azriel studied her before pressing, “And?”
“I would have married Darien Gard,” Ariadne said, leaning her head against his arm. “But it would not have lasted long.”
“Why is that?”
She scoffed. “Do you think Loren would have allowed his younger brother to become the heir to the Princeps?”
At that, Azriel had to chuckle and shake his head. A phantom fury rose in his chest at the thought of that wretched man, which he crushed back into submission. “You’re right. He would’ve had Darien killed and married you himself.”
“Madan would be dead because you never brought me back,” Ariadne continued with a small shake of her head. “Which would have broken Whelan in ways I can now comprehend and would never wish upon anyone. Then the two of you would likely have destroyed all of Valenul anyway.”
Before he could stop himself, Azriel barked a laugh at the very idea.
Yes, he could see himself razing the Keonis Valley after being driven to madness by his broken bond.
Yes, he was certain Whelan would’ve lost himself as well.
After he’d nearly killed Madan in a haze of darkness, something changed in the relationship between him and Whelan.
Until that bond was reciprocated by Madan, Azriel was certain a full repair would be nearly impossible.
Having unfettered access to the Keonis Tree was now imperative in preventing further destruction from such broken bonds.
“There was only ever one course of events that could lead us to this moment,” Ariadne said after a moment, turning her sparkling gaze up to him as she tucked herself closer to his radiating warmth. “And despite the pain we experienced to get here…I am grateful for it.”
Azriel sucked in a burning breath, eyes pricking with unshed tears. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, tilting his head back to stare at the stars peeking through the thick, winter clouds.
They’d both gone through entirely too much to land in this place of happiness.
Her abduction and torture. His imprisonment—twice over—and broken bond.
Their shared grief in losing family and friends whom they loved more than anything.
Still, they’d risen from the darkness together, stronger and more resilient than ever.
“I’m grateful for you,” he rasped, letting the tears fall as he brought his forehead to hers and inhaled the floral scent of her deeply. “I love you, Ariadne, more than anything.”
The salty taste of her own tears mixing with his, Ariadne kissed him long and slow before whispering against his lips, “Until the very end?”
And there, in the place where it’d all begun, Azriel could summon no other words than, “Until the very end, my love.”