Page 31 of Brimstone

And found his face devoid of emotion. “There isn’t going to be a wedding,” he said.

Te Léna’s broad smile evaporated. She sagged back into her chair. “Don’t be silly. Of course there will.” She blinked as shetried to process what she was hearing. “You can’t tell me that you don’twantto get married?”

“We don’t need a ceremony to join us together, Te Léna.” He laughed, but the sound felt clipped. Off, somehow. “We’re God-Bound. I’d say that trumps getting married, don’t you?”

“Well, yes. The way you two are bound is remarkable.” Her warm brown eyes traveled up and down our inked arms even as she said it. “But . . . the ceremony is . . . it’s beautiful, and . . .” She looked like she was about to cry.

“I don’t need a ceremony,” Fisher said, softening his tone a little. His jade eyes speared me through when they landed on me. “Do you, Osha? A hall full of people you don’t know, poking and prodding at you. Everybody looking at us? Everybody watching?”

Relief coursed through me. Gods, I would have married him, of course I would have, but it wasn’t something Ineededin any way, either. And after the coronation ceremony in Ammontraíeth, the last thing I wanted right now was to be made a spectacle of all over again. “No. No, I don’t.” I answered quickly. Definitively. And it was the answer Fisher was looking for, which was why the look of relief on his face made sense . . . but not the flicker of disappointment that came after it.

Archer looked likehewas about to cry.

Slowly, the little fire sprite sank back down onto his stool.

7

HOME

SAERIS

IT WAS LATEby the time dinner was done. Everyone was yawning and complaining that they had overeaten. Everyone, that was, except me.

I was wide awake, and I’d barely touched the food on my plate. My stomach was a quarter of the size it had been, and it had already been small to begin with, thanks to growing up in the Third.

Kingfisher walked me through the halls of Cahlish back to his rooms with his hand resting easily in the small of my back.

We had barely been alone since I’d transitioned, and this . . . well, it felt a little strange. There had always been tension between us, but this felt different. I knew him better now. It was strange, but it was as if I knewmyselfbetter. I had undergone a major transformation, there was no denying that. But I kept searching for the things that were different about myself, and all I kept finding were things that were the same. The things that really mattered hadn’t changed, and that was reassuring.

I was independent. My temper was still quick to rise. My sense of humor was still dry. I still loved the smell of coffee, and the thick flaky pastries I had first eaten in Ballard.

And I still loved the male walking beside me.

I’d fought my feelings for him for so long that giving them space to breathe now felt a little frightening.

As I could now feel Fisher’s emotions bleeding into mine, my own must have bled into his, too. When we reached his bedroom, he didn’t immediately go inside. Instead, he spun me around, hands at my waist, and pressed me back against the carved oak door, leaning into me so his chest was flush against mine. His huge frame dwarfed mine. A wall of muscle met my palms when I laid them against his chest.

“You know I would marry you,” he rushed out. “You must know that Iwantto.”

Blood rushed to my cheeks. “Oh. Uh . . .” I didn’t have the first clue what to say. “It’s okay. Really. If you’re not the marrying type—”

“I’m not.” His eyes wereburning. “The marrying type. I never have been. Before, the very idea would have sent me running for the hills. I just . . . I could never imagine the kind of love I would need to feel to choose that path for myself. But now I don’t need to imagine. Now I can’t think of anything I want to do more. Marrying you would be . . .” He shook his head, his eyes searching my face.

“Thenwhy?” I whispered. “Back at dinner, you said . . .” I frowned, trying to remember his exact words.

“I didn’t lie. I still can’t do that,” he said, tucking a wave of my hair gently back behind my ear. “I said there wouldn’t be a wedding. Because therecan’tbe, Saeris.”

“I . . . I’m sorry, I . . . don’t understand.”

He blew out a long, sad breath. “A Fae wedding ceremony is extremely sacred. It is the greatest commitment two lovers can undertake in Yvelia. Not because they swear to love and honor each other for all their days. Not because they give each other their hearts, either. It’s sacred because they give each other theirnames. Theirtruenames. And I can give you everything else, Osha. But I can’t give you that.”

He’d explained this to me once. A person’s true name held power. With it, a person could control the other. They could command them to do whatever they pleased.

“It’s okay, Fisher. You don’t need to give me that. I . . .” I shrugged, not knowing what to say. “I understand. If telling me your true name is impossible, then—”

“I don’t know it,” he whispered. “I’ve never known it. We usually receive our true names on our fourteenth birthdays, and my mother—” He blinked. “Well, she died before I turned fourteen. And my father was already gone. So . . .”

He had never looked so uncomfortable. He ducked his head, not meeting my gaze. “No one knows. If they did, it wouldn’t be good. I’ve hunted through her papers. Her books. I used to hope that she might have written it down in a private journal, perhaps, but I never found one. Her notebooks were full of drawings. Of me, mostly. And of little birds with flashing blue wings. But she drew you a lot, as well.” He laughed softly under his breath. “She really did like drawing you. But you see, that’s why I wasn’t forthright about it before. We can’t get married because I don’t have a true name to trade.”