Page 90

V ahly’s breath caught in her throat as Arc’s hands swept up her neck to cradle her face. His eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Vahly, I…” His throat moved, and he looked away.

She pressed her forehead to his, soaking in his warmth. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve lost.”

He turned his head, his cheek against her forehead. He started to speak, but a sob choked him.

Tears flowed freely from Vahly’s eyes, her chest exploding with the pain she felt for him. She felt as though they were both falling into the sea, cold waves of isolation sweeping them under, dragging them deep.

Vahly gripped him, holding on as if her life depended on it, the entirety of what she’d gone through under the sea and what they’d missed here on land threatening to drown her more assuredly than any sea ever could. “Cassiopeia would be so proud to see you now, carrying on.”

“My home,” he said, voice hitching. “I have to be strong, and, Vahly, I’m not sure I can do it.”

“Don’t be strong right now, love. Just weep.”

He sagged against her, head on her shoulder and hands tight on her sides as grief washed over him.

She whispered into his pointed ear, wondering how they’d ever been unaware of the other’s existence. This felt more real to her than anything else.

The year Vahly became a woman, she’d felt the loss of human kynd like it had been a fresh grief.

Amona hadn’t given her platitudes and positive plans.

She’d encouraged Vahly to imagine all the things she was missing without her family and her kynd.

Tears had flowed, hard and ugly, that day.

But bleeding the sadness out had led to a healing of sorts.

She’d never be truly whole, but that openness, that release, had made it possible for her to function again, to find her footing in this world.

She wanted that for Arc. He deserved it and more. So much more.

“Let it flow out of you. Tell me what you will miss.”

He pressed his forehead to hers again, his lips parted. “The joy. We were one. I don’t know who I am without them. Who am I, Vahly? Who am I?”

Vahly took his face in her hands. “You are Arcturus. Alchemist. Warrior. Dearest friend.” It most likely wasn’t what he wanted, but the words were all she could find.

Stones, she wished she were wiser. “You lead Haldus the stout, Rigel the wise, and Ursae the prodigal. That is not nothing, Arcturus of the royal house of Illumahrah. It is a high calling indeed, and you will fight by my side and help me save our kynds from the evil designs of those who wish only to destroy.” Chills raked Vahly’s arms. She knew there would be more loss, more grieving, before all this was done.

And Arc was no fool. He knew this too. “Together, we will do this. As you said to me, we will fight for the joy, the beauty, and the peace. We will find it again. Together.”

His fingers cupped her chin, and he drew her mouth to his.

His lips were soft and salted with tears, and she thought her heart would burst with love for him.

Kissing her deeply, gentle but firm, he held on to Vahly like she was his only solace, pulling her to him, his body strong against hers.

His magic coursed through the room, a breeze stirring the velvet curtains on the bed, tugging at the tasseled ends of the rug, and buffeting the fire into a snapping blaze.

He brushed his thumbs across her jawline and kissed his way down her throat.

Tingling sparks danced down the length of her, and she gasped, joy blending with the heartache, bittersweet and aching.

She pulled away from him, took his hand, and led him to the rug by the fire, wanting the light and the warmth. Lying down, side by side, his stomach to her back, they watched the reaching flames and whispered comfort to one another until the rose hue of sunrise streamed through the carved window.