Page 116 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

I stood. “Collect anything that bears any importance to you, and we will leave.”

Oryn slowly rose from his seat, still indecisive, nervously rubbing his palms to his sides. “This, I suppose,” he said, picking up the battered-up journal. “Nothing else.”

The five of us lit a torch on the Seraphim fire before we descended the height of the tall Danic. Oryn was beaten from age and the magic fatigue of the Danics, so I had offered him my horse. Memphis had morphed into a mare, carrying Snow while I walked beside her, holding the reins.

The descent was far easier than the climb, especially with the everfire, but Snow kept taking cautious glances around the black cloud we were cloaked in.

“It will do us no harm. Not unless you've come with the desire to mine the mountains for jewels. It is how the magic works,” Oryn said to her. He swung the torch inside the inky fog and watched it shriek and fade.

“If you knew your way around it, why did you never try to leave?”

The old man took a minute to think his answer. “The feel of belonging—inside isolation is where I found it.”

Snow glanced a little at me and then blinked ahead.

Chapter sixteen

Marmoris

Snowlin

The sun rulers had responded to our request within the day of contact. Something that had surprised Kilian the most. Adriata and Solarya rooted their grudges on more than the difference of their blessing. It was a foundation built since the time of the gods. The two lovers that were destined to hate one another. Cyra and Henah. Night and day.

Pen and I sat on the edge of Kilian’s bed as a servant brought what I was supposed to wear to Solarya in an attempt to convince the two sun royals of our little lie. Most of the Adriatian women I’d seen were soldiers, priestesses or councillors, and they wore an attire almost similar to the men. What laid before us was something I’d never seen anyone wear before.

Pen picked up the black contraption as if it were lit in fire and smelled of rotten egg. “They can’t possibly be serious.”

“Very serious,” Kilian said, strutting inside more handsome than ever, wearing a black ensemble with detailed silver embroidery all over it. He didn’t look like a king, he looked like a god. “Where is my missus?” he asked, looking around the room and I sat up a bit. “There she is. Scowling at me.” He grinned. “Perfect.”

I huffed and turned away from the idiot.

The little carrot helped me get into the tight thing that barely managed to be pulled up my hips. Made of a dark fabric that looked like it sucked all the light in the room, the dress was a beauty of hand stitched golden embroidery that ran along the arms and down the long train that extended almost a foot behind me. I’d lost a bit of weight over the past weeks, but the thing clung to me as second skin, pushing my cleavage so high that it almost reached my chin.

Kilian stopped his conversation with Atlas. His eyes raked me top to bottom and his lip tipped up in a smirk as he said, “You’re the death of me.”

I was sure my face was burning red from his scrutiny and those words. I’ve always felt beautiful, but when he said it, I felt a different sort of beautiful.

“Blessed Krig,” Pen muttered, grabbing Atlas’s hand and fleeing the room like their soles were on fire, letting me deal with him on my own.

“I suppose you look pretty too,” I said, walking to him and smoothing a hesitant palm on his chest. Warming up would help. As good as I was puppeteering my manners, it was hard when it came to him. My reaction was to recoil to his touches and his words.

He cocked a dark brow up. “Pretty?”

I nodded and tipped my head back to look at him. “You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.” Perhaps the truest truth that had come out of my mouth in weeks.

He smiled, his sad eyes did too. Definitely the prettiest man I knew. “I’ve never been called pretty before.”

“Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn't it?”

He laughed and I was sure my chest constricted because it suddenly became hard to breathe. His smile fell. He must have seen something or felt it, I didn’t know how he did it because he never told me how he found out when my thoughts shifted. He traced a light finger over my cheek. “Your eyes. They still do that thing.”

Your laugh still undoes me. It was once only mine and I wanted it to be only mine again. Shame washed me all at once and I felt my body grow cold. It was all because of that lie—it wasn’t him that I longed for, it was his lie. It was for my favourite lie. He was my favourite lie. “Let’s not leave Moriko waiting under the summer sun. The ancient thing might just wither.”

He grabbed my arm, turning me to him again. His finger tipped my chin so I could look at him. “I haven’t told you today.” He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose and then both my eyes before whispering against my lips, “I love you.”

My chest tightened. Those three cursed words. Those three cursed words I’d only ever heard from him. They branded me and they thawed something of mine that was long frozen—the want to be loved. I longed to be loved. If one like him could ever love someone like me. It was all his game. I dreaded how easily he found to play it still. “Too early to start pretending.”

He nudged my nose with his, his warm breath fluttering over my skin as he leaned in to bite and drag my bottom lip between his teeth. “I ought to gift you a dictionary,” he whispered over my mouth before kissing both corners of my lips and my pulse thundered. He gently raised my chin with a finger so I could look up at him. “Or shall I teach you myself? I am a very patient man. I’ll go slow for you. So very slow, my love.” His eyes darted to my lips again and he breathed heavy. “I’ll teach you all and everything. You’ll taste the definition of my every word and love for you on your tongue. And then you’ll crave it. Just like I crave you. I want to teach you this hunger. But I will never let you starve—never.”