Page 83 of Winds of Ruin
“Lucky for you, I don’t mind that arrangement.” I dug into my meal, groaning as the salt touched my tongue.
My spoon hit the bottom of the bowl before I’d caught up with the fact that the broth was all gone. Too consumed with the flavor, I hadn’t noticed El had slipped out of the room.
She returned and set another bowl down. “Can you make that noise again for me?” she asked, altogether too amused. Her smile took over her entire face. Instead of feeling any shame, I laughed and happily thanked her for the second serving, which I then devoured.
Finally content, and lazy with gluttony, I slumped back in my chair. She was watching me with her elbows on the table and chin rested on her hands like I’d just performed an incredulous trick.
She met my gaze and said with no hint of teasing or insincerity, “I’m glad to see you, Emmerick.”
The warm glow of lamplight had replaced the sunlight. The smattering of freckles across her cheeks was more noticeable now, and the glint in her hazel eyes entranced me.
For the first moment since I’d woken up, my joy outweighed every other emotion—there was no duty to run from, there were no sick loved ones, there was not anything else in the world.
Just her.
“I’m happy to be here with you,” I replied, heart sinking with the realization that I’d endure it all again for this moment.
It felt unfair to let her be the foundation of all my hope.
Chapter 35
Larkspur
“He’s awake!”
Dritan’s rumpled tunic and mussed hair greeted me at the door of his flat in Helos. I rarely came here, too fearful of being recognized.
His eyes widened, and his mouth hung open as he pulled me by both my hands inside. “Is he well?”
The quaint flat was tidy; everything had its place. Woven rugs and thick curtains kept out the chill. He’d crafted a life for himself with no royal standing, with his own hands... It was admirable.
I nodded. “As well as one can be while trying to adjust to missing the last twenty years. He’s easy to talk to—very kind. And he doesn’t blame me for what happened that night with the mirror. Which means he won’t blameyoueither.”
Dritan needed to meet him; soon enough, we’d be married. This secret could not carry on.
He pulled me into an embrace. “Not yet,” he whispered.
“Why not?” I hated the petulant tone that accompanied my question.
The man my mother had told me stories of would welcome family with open arms.
“Because,” Dritan said and withdrew from the embrace to cup my cheeks in his hands, “I want to marry you first, with no outside opinions, or factors, or complications. If he doesn’t believe me, if he tells your parents…”
Did Dritan truly fear that anything could stop us from being married? He clearly didn’t understand the amount of stubbornness I’d inherited.
“Dritan, I would marry you regardless of who your father is. You know that, right?”
When he met my gaze, I saw the weight of his uncertainty, but he nodded.
I squeezed his cheeks. “I don’t give a fuck what your rightful surname is or your line of work. If you chose to never tell him—though I hope you do—I’d still love you. But you deserve to know your family. I want that for you.”
He smiled down at me, his posture slackening in relief as he pulled my hips forward so that he could envelop me with his body. “You’re my family, Larkspur,” he breathed out between our lips. “The only family that matters, the only one I care to accept me.”
I closed my mouth over his and pushed him deeper into his flat until his knees hit his mattress.
With swollen lips, a messy braid, and my heart so light it could float to the clouds, I trotted up the stairs to Umber House.
It had been our first time. Our breath had raced, and we’d both fumbled around until we could finally calm ourselves enough to enjoy it.
