Page 274 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

“I’d be a terrible mother. I wouldn’t want a child to grow as I did. But you,” I said, touching the tips of my fingers to his face, “you’d be an amazing father. I’d want to have those eight children just so they could grow to be loved by you.”

“We have all the time in the world, Snow, for you to figure out how I see you and how others know you to be. We have all the time in the world for me to show you what you have never seen and known about yourself. If you only were able to see what I see. Perhaps you’d fall in love with yourself, too. I want you to fall in love with yourself, too. To love this person that you are as I do, as your family does. Terrible is a word I wish you would never use for the woman who is the most magnificent to me.” He dropped a kiss to my lips and stood. “Let’s go feed you some proper food. If your stomach growls at me one more time I will growl back at it.”

I kicked my foot on his shoulder and he chuckled.

The second he turned his back to me, I gasped, a hand slapping over my mouth. “Kil?”

Confused, he turned to me, a worried expression painted on his beautiful face. “What’s the matter, my love?”

Fear filled my stomach and I almost felt sick. “Why do you bear the mark of Keres?”

He glanced at his shoulder, over at the little black mark of the death guardian, and then went utterly still.

“Answer me,” I said, standing and crawling onto his lap. I shook my head, it couldn’t be—I had to be wrong. “You did die.” A tear slipped from my eye and then another. “You did die.” Oh gods. Oh gods. No. Every feel on my body was seized from panic—thick panic that rendered me without air.

“I am here now,” he said, leaning in to kiss my tears away.

“This is all my fault,” I pushed away from him, crawling away from him. “This is all my fault.” Walls were suddenly too close and closing in on me and I couldn’t breathe. Not until I was back in his arms and he straightened my spinning world.

He cradled me in his chest. “Shhh. Love, Snow, open your eyes.” After kissing me dizzy, he murmured, “Am I not here?”

“You are.”

“Does anything else matter?”

“Kil—”

“Does anything matter, my heart?”

“No. No, it doesn't.” It did. It did. But I was too thankful to have him here than to question anymore. He had died. Kilian had died.

Kilian clutched my hand tight as we made our way to the castle's back gardens.

“You know, I won’t vanish if you hold me a little less tight.”

“You might just do so,” he said, yet there was not an ounce of amusement in his voice.

“Already clinging to you?” Mal asked, leaning back in his chair and munching on an apple, narrowing his eyes on us as we sat down on the table. He’d been quiet since lake Asterin—his brother was worried beyond the usual level of constant worry he had for him.

“Must be strange for you, Malik,” my sister said, chewing on a piece of toast while reading some sort of poetry. “To hold a woman’s hand. The only place you’ve had a woman’s hand wrapped around is probably your—”

“Rora,” Eren called, eyes wide on our little sister. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Not another one of you.”

Driada put the back of her hand to her mouth and laughed herself to tears.

“Never a dull moment with you Skygards,” Mal said. “But yes, you are quite correct. The more the merrier.”

My sister cringed. “You make me gag.”

Mal chewed slowly. “If you ask nicely about it.”

I’d erupted in chuckles, but the frown on my husband’s brows and Thora’s glare made me straighten my reaction.

“So,” Mal asked, “how are the happy married couple? Besides being tired, obviously, as it oddly seems you two are quite refreshed. Has my brother lost his vigour at his old age?”

Kilian stared pure frost into him, but the younger brother was unbothered.

“If you tell me, I will tell you,” I said.