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“You might even work from Imenborg.” He whispered this part, half-fearing she would reject the notion outright.

A gentle breeze wafted her curls around her freckled cheeks. She stared at him so intently, he wondered if she was searching for something, some answer he hadn’t yet spoken aloud. Nerves twisted his stomach and glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth once again. Stones, he was so bad with words.

“But—why should I work from Imenborg?” she asked at last, each word slow and precise as if she had chosen them with deliberate intent. “What are the benefits? The reasons?”

So that you can be with me, he wanted to shout, but he wasn’t sure that she was ready to hear those words. And how should he say them? Should he ask her to stay with him? Or should he express how much he cared for her first? Was there a specific order these things were supposed to be done? He’d been warned against giving her a stone...but what then did human males give their sweethearts?

When he remained silent, something sorrowful filled Anrid’s expression, and she pulled away from him. As her arms slipped through his fingers, he felt as if he were losing the most precious thing he’d ever wanted in his entire life.

Chapter 41

A despairing emotion emanated from Jael, as if some dark thought plagued him that he wouldn’t share with her. How could he be standing so close and yet feel an eternity away? Her body ached to lean closer; her arms longed to wrap around him and her lips to whisper that everything would be fine. But she didn’t dare do any of those things.

A governess simply didn’t go around hugging princes. At least not without being given permission.

And, for whatever reason, Jael couldn’t—or wouldn’t—tell her how he felt.

On the subject that mattered most, he said nothing at all.

She could feel it though. He was in agony.

He ran a ragged hand over his face and rolled his eyes closed. “Rock and bone, why are words so hard for me?”

Anrid clutched her skirt and resisted the urge to reach for him. Dare she hope this meant he did have something he wanted to tell her? She held her breath and waited, every fiber of her being longing to lean into him.

Still, he said nothing.

They stood in the perfect place, with flowers and verdant, green growing things all around them. Sunlight speckled their heads and shoulders, cutting through gaps in the leaves and branches with a delightful purple hue from the magical barrier that protected Elysium. If only he would speak, if only he would whisper the words she longed most to hear...

Perhaps she needed to take matters into her own hands. Anrid licked her lips and took a fortifying breath as she considered her options. “Perhaps,” she began with more than a little trepidation, “perhaps actions speak louder than words. So, they say, anyway.”

His gaze devoured her face as if she had given him a spark of hope. “Does that mean—I mean, do I have your permission—”

She grew tired of waiting. She’d been waiting on men for ages, waiting for her fiancé, waiting for Jael, and she couldn’t live with herself if she let her chance at happiness slip away without a fight. She wanted to know what her future held…no, she wanted to choose her own future. She took a step closer and curled her hands around the lapels of his robe. He stiffened and craned his head away from her as if to get a good look at her.

“Would you lean down, please?” she asked, quite primly. “Has anyone told you that you’re ridiculously tall?”

A trace of a smile touched his mouth as he obliged, leaning down so that their faces were mere inches apart. His searching gaze never left hers. “Is this better?”

She pretended to consider while she grasped for her nerve. “Um, no, I would like you closer, please. Just a bit.”

He shifted yet again, his hands stealing around her and catching her by the back of her elbows. “This is much easier than words,” he whispered.

“Yes, but you’re going to have to say it.”

“Say what?” His gaze had dropped to her mouth, and the nerves she’d been feeling leaked away. He wanted to kiss her; she knew that now. It was a matter of him working up the nerve.

She offered him a dazzling, breathless smile—the sort that teased and encouraged at the same time. “I think you know,” she chided him. “I’m not going to say it first. I am, after all, only a governess.” I choose you, she thought, now please choose me, Jael. Please, choose me.

He growled in the back of his throat. “You most certainly are not just a governess.” The words were hot and indignant, and made her smile deepen even more. “You’re wonderful, and I never want to let you slip out of my fingers. When you left with the elves, I thought—I feared I would never be whole again without you. I thought I’d lost you forever, and I’d never told you how I felt, how much you meant to me, how much you mean to all of us. You belong here, Anrid, you belong in Agmon. With me.” Now that he had finally gotten started, Jael seemed unable to stop the frantic flood of words pouring out of them.

A single tear leaked down her cheek, but this wasn’t a tear of sadness—it was of joy and relief and longing all wrapped up into one riotous package. It was as if her insides were filled with goblin children jumping around all at the same time. With a contented sigh, she lifted her arms and cupped her hands behind his neck.

“But why should I work at Imenborg instead of here in Elysium?” She couldn’t help but poke one last time, and then she feared she would give in and let him kiss her however he pleased.

He huffed as if agitated and tightened his grip on her. “Because I love you, Anrid Fray. That’s why you shouldn’t live in Elysium. It’s too far away. I would never see you. The children would never see you. I’m planning to start an orphanage at Imenborg, so that they can stay with you: all of them. And as many more as you want. You can have every last naughty orphan in Agmon, if that’s what your heart wants. I would give them all to you. I would give you the world—I would—”

“You can kiss me now,” she interrupted and leaned up on her tiptoes.