Chapter 45 #2
“And hopefully take back the crown.” I swallowed thickly, my words difficult to say aloud. “Yaseema, I meant what I said. Once we’ve used the crown to free my family, we’ll restore life magic to your world. We shouldn’t be fighting these battles alone. You shouldn’t.”
She gave a small laugh. “But it feels like I’ve fought them alone for so long.”
“You don’t have to. Not now.”
“What makes now different?”
She had come so close to me, and the air was on fire between us. I could hear my heart thundering through my skin.
“You know what makes it different.”
“You saved me,” she said simply. “You gave up your advantage for me. I know we discussed it, but I feel like there’s something you aren’t saying. And I want you to say it.”
I leaned against my desk and tilted my head back. I didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not when I could barely explain it myself.
I felt like if I left you there, I’d leave myself there too.
“My father and I got caught in the battle before we had the chance to get to the Mountain,” I said abruptly. “That’s the reason I’m not in there with the rest of my family. I was young but fought alongside my father when Salt first invaded and took our magic. And then Reza killed him.”
Her breath caught and she was so still. I realized I hadn’t told her anything about my family before, not really. I hadn’t really spoken about them to anyone.
My chest burned with each word, my heart catching in my ribs like a beast bursting to get out.
“Reza drained him first, until he was old and twisted, couldn’t say his name, or who he was.
But he knew me still. He recognized me. That’s why we help them—the zulmi.
They’re in there somewhere. Still there, waiting.
Sometimes they have moments where they burst out, become who they are, have pieces of memories.
But I couldn’t save him before Reza had him executed. ”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“I ran.” The lump in my throat hadn’t eased; if anything it had grown thicker.
“I ran into the city. I hid from who I was for so long, until the inklings of the resistance started. And eventually I joined Reza while working for the Rebellion.” I looked up at her, willing her to understand.
“I’ve been alone for so long. I’ve never had anyone who understood.
There’s no one who knows who I was before Salt came anymore.
I’m not even sure if I know who I am now,” I let out a little laugh.
“But with you, I feel the most like myself. Not the person I’ve had to be, the identity I’ve been given after it was stripped from me.
But the person who is connected still to everything that was important to us. ”
She exhaled and ran her hands through her short curls. I had a brief memory of cutting that hair, slicing away the burnt strands.
I’d wanted to gather all her curls up in my fist and kiss the back of her neck when I’d done it.
“When I was coming back,” she said finally, “I knew I wanted to help you fight. I wanted to help your Court take it all back. And I had to tell you something.”
“What did you want to say?” I urged, my voice a low whisper.
She came closer to me, her legs touching mine, until she was so close I felt consumed by her.
Her hand reached up, tracing my jaw, and then my lips. I closed my eyes.
“I wanted to tell you that I couldn’t leave.
That I want to rescue my family and help my people, but now I just as badly want to help yours as well.
Because it feels like part of my heart is housed here, in this place where there isn’t ownership anymore, where no one has land or homes or permanence.
And maybe that’s why we belong to each other now.
When they’ve taken our home, we still have it within each other. ”
I released a breath, my eyes fluttering open and meeting her languid brown ones. She pressed a hand to my heart, and it pounded against her palm.
Part of my heart is housed here.
My own hand covered hers and we stood there for a moment, watching each other, the energy between us irrevocably changed, a sapling sprouting from the soil with roots so deep it couldn’t be dug up.
She’d come back.
And though it had cost her too damn much, she’d come back for me.
No one had ever done that before.
“You should have left,” I whispered, the air heavy. “You should have escaped.” She closed her eyes. “But if you hadn’t come back, I would’ve lost you. And I can’t begin to regret that.”
And then I repeated the gesture I’d dreamed about since I first did it.
My hands came up almost involuntarily and removed her delicate spectacles, placing them on the edge of the desk. I brought her close, inhaling her scent—parchment and ink and lemons filling my senses.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” I said, my mouth inches from her lips.
“Yes,” she breathed, the sound passing from her to me.
And then I did. I pressed my mouth to hers, hot and hungry, and she opened, groaning in the back of her throat as I tilted her head back.
I pulled her toward me, sitting back against the desk as she climbed up, settling in my lap. I tasted her, felt her soft curves in my hands, the press of her lips on my neck as my complete focus became her.
I could barely believe we’d only done this once before, because kissing her felt so familiar, so right, it was like coming home.
When they’ve taken our home, we still have it within each other.
Her words echoed around me, filling my head, infiltrating my heart.
I stood from the desk with her around me, walking toward the bed and laying her down gently.
“I’m in love with you,” I said; the words were simple compared to all that was in my heart.
But everything distilled down to them. “I don’t think I deserve you.
I didn’t even think I was capable of love anymore, until you.
The things I’ve done . . . But I love you.
And with me, you’ll never have to doubt where your home is again. Because it’s always here.”
You’re my home.
She wrapped her hands around my head, pulling me back with her, toward the bed.
“This time don’t fall asleep,” she whispered.
I laughed despite myself, despite my hands shaking as I pulled off her soft trousers, as she unbuttoned her jeweled chemise. She reached up and unlaced my shirt, then lifted it over my head, running her hands down my chest. I pulled my own trousers down and then joined her.
“I’ve wanted this for so long.” I breathed the words against her shoulder, the skin scattered with dark freckles like stardust. My fingertips traced them.
“Not nearly as long as I have.” She gave a sly smile.
I raised a brow. “That is almost certainly not true.”
“No? You were shirtless when we first met, so I had the chance to see quite a bit of you before I knew who you were.”
I laughed again, causing my bare chest to press against hers, and we both gasped at the contact.
She reached up, threading her fingers through my hair and pulling my mouth down to hers.
Our kiss was eager and messy and freeing.
As if we’d been unleashed, our words finally releasing whatever had been holding us back from giving ourselves completely.
My hands tangled with hers on the bed, and she cradled my hips in her own. I pulled away from her, searching her eyes and holding them with mine.
Her fingers found my scars, curving over each imprint of the scorpion that had been etched into me.
A reminder of him, of them, of their power over us.
For a jarring moment I realized when she saw them, she would be reminded of Reza.
My eyes flickered down to the corresponding scar she had on her hip from what he did to her.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly, pressing my thumb to the mark on her. “I should have been there to stop him. You shouldn’t have his mark on you. I’m the one who should bear it.”
She shook her head and inexplicably smiled. “You don’t belong to him,” she said, her voice a low whisper, an oath, conjuring magic I didn’t know existed. “Or to them.” She placed her hand over my heart, away from the scars across my stomach.
“You belong to me.”
My breath caught in my throat, her words blurring my vision, settling into my skin like she had marked me, a stamp of her magic on my heart. And maybe she had.
We sighed into each other, melting together like there was no division between us. Our skin, pulse, tongues, mouths found their home.
“Do you want this?”
“More than anything.”
I surged forward, our hips meeting and snapping together, and we both gasped.
“Are you—?”
“Yes, yes.”
It was like that, murmured whispers, agreement, a tracing of each other’s bodies, making new marks that didn’t give ownership to anyone but each other, freely.
There was so much that was still uncertain, so much that I couldn’t forget about or push from my mind, so much pain and frustration and misery. But for one moment, it was all gone, and it was just me and her.
No, that wasn’t right.
She didn’t make me forget any of those things that drove me, but instead I felt as if I could finally conquer them.
And afterward she lay on my chest and I stroked her wild hair, a glimmer of hope growing in my chest that I hadn’t let flourish before.
And it was because of her I had any at all.