Page 55 of Bought By the Raven King
His arms wrapped around my waist. He pulled me back against his chest, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder, and in the mirror I could see us both.
The pale queen and the dark king. Death and the death-speaker. A matching set of monsters.
“My cold wife,” he murmured against my ear. His breath was warm. “Not so cold anymore.”
I met his eyes with mine. “My warm husband. Try not to burn.”
He smiled. Not the sharp, dangerous smile I’d seen at the Bride Market, but something softer. More real. His hands slid up my back, pulled me closer, and I rose on my toes to kiss him.
The kiss was slow. Thorough. His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting, claiming, reminding me of everything we’d done in the crypts.
Everything we’d become to each other.
When he pulled back, his expression had changed. Gone serious. The smile faded into something more intense.
“I liked you burning,” he said. “When the petals made you warm and flushed and alive. When you danced with me at the banquet and kissed me like you meant it. When you felt human enough to pretend I couldn’t see what you were.”
My chest tightened. “Cador?—”
“But I prefer you cold.” His hands framed my face, thumbs tracing my cheekbones. “The fire was a lie. You wearing masks for people who wanted a lie. This,” he said, gesturing at my reflection. “You are the truth.”
The tension inside me broke. Some last wall I’d been holding up, some final defense I’d been maintaining. I’d spent three months convinced I was wrong. Broken. A mistake that needed to be hidden or fixed or destroyed.
And he was standing here, looking at me until I felt raw, seen in a way that left no room for hiding.
Not despite what I was. Because of it.
“I chose you because I thought you were like me,” I said. “Empty. Cold.”
“I remember.”
“I was wrong.” I pressed my hand over his heart, felt it beating steady and strong. “You cared more than anyone. You saw what I was from the beginning, and you wanted me anyway.”
“Not anyway.” His hands tightened on my face. “I wanted you because of what you were. The death-blessed queen who walked out of her grave and refused to make herself small.”
He leaned his forehead against mine. “You were never wrong, Olwen. You were just in the wrong place.”
I closed my eyes. Let his words settle into me, fill the spaces where doubt and shame had lived.
“And now?” I asked.
“Now you’re exactly where you belong.” He kissed my forehead. “Here. With me. In the twilight lands where we both belong.”
Belong.
The word settled into my bones. Not a question anymore. Not a hope. A certainty.
Ravens called outside the window. Dozens of them, their voices harsh and knowing, filling the gray morning with sound. They were calling to me. Their queen. Their sister.
Cador’s arms tightened around me. His lips found the curve where my neck met my shoulder, and he pressed a kiss there, warm and claiming.
“My cold queen,” he murmured against my skin.
I met his eyes in the mirror. Held his gaze.
“My warm king.”
Outside, the ravens answered with a chorus of cries.
And in the mirror, the death-blessed queen smiled back.
