Chapter Twenty-Five

Twenty-Five

She found Sylvia halfway through making camp.

The pieces of their tent were scattered haphazardly across the cavern’s floor, as were half of her belongings. Sylvia herself sat perched in a pile of her sleeping furs, fastening her damp hair to the top of her head with a garnet-studded pin. A few stubborn curls bounced in front of her eyes, charmingly disheveled.

“What are you doing?”

Sylvia looked up at her, gasping softly in surprise. She released the hold she had on her hair, and the whole wild mess of it spilled around her shoulders. The pin clanged noisily to the floor, echoing against the stone walls.

“Nothing.” There was a touch of self-consciousness in her voice. It was so unlike her, it almost made Lorelei smile. “What are you looking at me that way for?”

“Do I need a reason to look at you?” Then, Lorelei paused, mastering herself. If she could be even-tempered for only once in her life, she needed it to be now. As much as it frightened her, she could not hide behind her snappishness. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Sylvia looked quite suspicious now. “Oh?”

“I have been thinking,” Lorelei ground out. “Quite a bit.”

“Yes. You tend to do that.”

Lorelei—in a very noble demonstration of self-restraint—refrained from comment. In matters of love, actions came easy to her. She was not very much in the habit of expressing her affections in pretty words—or at all, if she could help it—and it would require her utmost focus to apply herself to the task.

“Yesterday, you told me I never act in my own self-interest. I suppose you are right, in a way. I often invent misfortune and thwart my own happiness so that I can be disappointed, just as I hold others at a distance so they may never truly know me. I moved through the world with my heart closed to it.” She dared to meet Sylvia’s eyes. “I lied when I told you I could envision nothing between us.”

In the distance, there was the sound of rushing water. She did not think Sylvia was breathing anymore.

“Despite everything that has happened, you have made me believe there is beauty to be found. Your infectious joy, your whimsy, your complete and utter lack of self-preservation…You are everything I am not and everything I admire. The thought that I might have you terrified me—the thought I might ruin you even more,” she confessed. “There is absolutely nothing I can offer you, save my devotion. But if you will have me, I…”

This was complete and utter foolishness. Here they were, stranded, both of them wounded and disgraced. They were dead women walking. But if not now, when could she possibly tell her?

“I am yours,” she concluded.

Sylvia smiled with such unguarded happiness, Lorelei’s heart gave an answering leap. “That is more than enough. It is all I could ever want. If you will allow me to, I will find a way to ensure your safety—and everyone else’s in the Yevanverte. I would stake my life on it.”

Lorelei could not believe she’d wasted five years alienating someone who cared for her. Five years trying to ingratiate herself to a man who would discard her the moment it was politically convenient. Five years cutting away enough of herself to make her palatable to the nobles. She’d never please them. But Sylvia had peered into her very soul and did not shy away.

Lorelei laughed, if only to keep herself from weeping. “Would you truly?”

“I would.”

“If they came in the night, you would lend me your sword.”

“Of course I would.”

“If they tried to drive us away, you would—”

“Lorelei, please,” she whispered, and the yearning in Sylvia’s voice nearly undid her. “You must know that I would do anything you ask of me.”

Lorelei dropped to her knees beside her. “How is it possible that you exist? You are something out of a fairy tale.”

“So are you. But I am as real as you are.” Sylvia’s voice dropped lower, and with a honeyed tone, she added, “So will you please get on with it and kiss me?”

Desire snagged like a hook within her. It took a moment to remember how to speak. “As you wish.”

Lorelei took one finger of her glove between her teeth and carefully tugged it off, then the other. Sylvia watched her remove them with rapt fascination. Carefully, she unwound her bandages and set them aside. Her wounds had closed, but the scars were still tender, each of them in the jagged shape of a starburst. Sylvia gasped softly at the sight of them. With unbearable tenderness, she grasped one of Lorelei’s wrists and pressed a kiss to her palm. Warmth, edged with the barest frisson of pain, suffused her.

“Lorelei—”

“Don’t fret.” She dragged the pad of her thumb over Sylvia’s lower lip. The heat of her mouth was almost too much to bear. She could feel Sylvia’s pulse quickening against her touch. As carefully as she could, she threaded her fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and bent down enough to brush their lips together. Sylvia grabbed the fabric of Lorelei’s shirt with such ferocity it pulled her off-balance.

“I swear, if you—”

Whatever protest she made was snatched from her as Sylvia kissed her again, deep and slow and full of fervor. Suddenly, she could not think much of anything at all. She tasted like lavender—like the river, deep and dark. Sylvia arched against her, as though any space between them was unbearable.

Lorelei hooked an arm around Sylvia’s waist and lowered her to the ground, her white hair splaying across the furs like a spill of moonlight. Sylvia reached up to undo the buttons of her waistcoat, but Lorelei caught her wrists and pinned them over her head. The pain that seared through her was immediate and blinding.

“Fuck,” she hissed. Then: “Sorry.”

Sylvia made to sit up, but Lorelei melted her weight into her and buried her neck in the crook of Sylvia’s. Her smothered laughter danced over the shell of Lorelei’s ear. “Goodness. Are you all right?”

It hurt but not as much as her pride—and her own disappointment. She considered herself a methodical person in all things, even in her hatred. Even in her fantasies. There were so many things she wanted to do to Sylvia. She had spun a thousand encounters, filled with every sordid, desperate desire, all the ways she wanted to make Sylvia suffer and beg and come. She wanted to fuck her until she couldn’t remember her own name. She wanted her to think of nothing but her: her hands and mouth on her, how she controlled her pleasure. She had never resented the limitations of her own body more.

When the spots in her vision cleared at last, she said, “I’m afraid I’m a bit limited at the moment.”

“There’s time.” Sylvia cradled her jaw, a fond smile playing at her lips. “I want you however I can have you. I want you brutal, and I want you tender, and I want you at your best and your worst. Saints. I want you, Lorelei, and I—”

Lorelei kissed her again, hard enough to bruise. Desire ran through her like a knife, so sharp it was almost painful. When she drew back, they stared at each other, their breaths coming heavy in the dark. Sylvia’s pupils were blown wide. Lorelei could see her pulse fluttering wildly in the hollow of her throat. It was a caged, frantic thing.

I want you, Lorelei.

Her entire body sang with those words. She wanted all of her. Her every petty barb, every cruelty she could enact, every meager sweetness dripped onto her tongue like honey. Lorelei had not thought herself capable of feeling like this. Passionately, insatiably, recklessly. It terrified her, to have all her control unraveling and slipping away from her, all her walls crumbling. She needed Sylvia to experience even a flicker of what threatened to consume her now.

“Unbutton your shirt,” Lorelei said huskily.

Sylvia obeyed without hesitation. Her callused fingers trailed along the column of gleaming mother-of-pearl buttons. Inch by agonizing inch, she bared herself. Lorelei’s mouth went dry. She brushed her fingertips down the plane of her stomach, the delicate silver on her cufflinks sliding against her skin, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. Sylvia watched her hungrily, her throat bobbing with anticipation.

She was so breathtaking like this, desirous and entirely hers. Shadowed patterns swam over her skin like lace. Lorelei bent over her, pressing the flat of her tongue to her breastbone and dragging it lower, lower. Sylvia moaned softly as her fingers found purchase in her hair. Lorelei kept her fingers steadily braced against her hip bones.

“You’re still wearing too much.”

“So are you,” Lorelei groused.

Sylvia wriggled free of her trousers and her underclothes with a mercenary efficiency. Had she any of her wits still about her, Lorelei might have teased her for it. Her fine linen shirt was still draped loosely over her shoulders. Lorelei admired the curves of her breasts, but her gaze drifted to the edge of the wound just above her collarbone, imperfectly healed along Lorelei’s stitches. Sylvia caught her looking and righted the sleeve. And when she reached for her waistcoat, this time, Lorelei didn’t fight her.

It pooled on the ground behind her with a shush of fabric.

Sylvia kissed her, her tongue tracing the seam of her lips. Sylvia’s fingers worked desperately to unfasten her cravat, and when she finally tore it away, she dragged her mouth down her throat. She got to work on her shirt next, sliding each ivory button through its eyehole with such tender, reverential precision, it almost embarrassed her. Satisfied, she pulled it from her shoulders, so needily Lorelei feared it would tear. She hooked her fingers into her belt and looked up at Lorelei through heavy-lidded eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

“Thank you.”

Lorelei’s throat constricted embarrassingly. No one had ever told her that before. No one had ever looked at her the way Sylvia did now, breathless and wanting. God, she wanted to give her everything she wanted. She wanted to ruin her. The look Sylvia gave her was molten as she traced a line from her knee to the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

“Tell me,” she said. “Do you still think me cruel? Would you like to see the depths of it?”

“Please,” Sylvia said breathlessly.

Please. Never had she heard a more beautiful sound.

Lorelei kissed the crease of her hip, then lower. Sylvia’s hips rose insistently to meet her touch, and her eyelashes fluttered as she rolled her eyes shut. It took all of Lorelei’s control to keep herself collected. But she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to keep her composure like this, with the heat of her body and the sound of her name on Sylvia’s lips. The desperation lighted her eyes as she denied her again and again. It was almost too much to bear. She never wanted it to end.

She wasn’t sure how much time had slipped away from them when Sylvia begged her to put her out of her misery. She shuddered, pulling Sylvia’s hair hard enough to hurt, and then went loose against her. Her skin was flushed and covered in a gloss of sweat.

She was a vision, impossibly lovely.

Sylvia smiled at her radiantly. Lorelei hadn’t realized she’d said it aloud.

She’d give anything to bask in the light of her love forever. But for now, she kissed her until she felt lit from within, shimmering and warm and safe.

Lorelei woke to a watery dawn light.

Last night had felt entirely unreal, but when Sylvia opened her silver eyes, it sent a thrill through her. How strange it was, to exist in a world where Sylvia von Wolff smiled at her. Where they woke at each other’s sides as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Good morning,” Sylvia said blearily.

“Good morning.” Lorelei tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. And then, with more regret than she expected to feel, she sat up. She reached for her shirt, but Sylvia caught her wrist.

“Let me.”

“I don’t need you fussing—”

“I know you don’t need it,” she said, “but I want to. Don’t you want to make me happy?”

Heat clawed up her neck. “More than anything.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Once she was set to rights, they packed up their things and stood lingering by the edge of the Ursprung. Its surface gleamed without warmth, as though it had whiled away the hours drinking in starlight. Lorelei was reluctant to leave their idyll when she so dreaded what came next. Adelheid’s words flooded back to her.

Do you think he would even hesitate to throw the Yevani to the wolves if he thought it would gain him an ounce of public approval? Trusting Wilhelm to protect you is the greatest mistake you will ever make.

Lorelei did not know yet what power the spring would grant, but she did not know if she could hand it over to him in good conscience. “We could tell him we couldn’t find it.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. When she dared glance over at Sylvia, she looked less shocked than Lorelei thought she might. She was smiling faintly, but sadness filled her eyes. “I confess, the same thought crossed my mind.”

So the incorruptible Sylvia von Wolff had a treasonous thought every now and again. It almost made Lorelei laugh. If she returned without it, she did not know what he would do to her. But if there was another way to keep both him and his caprice in check…

Tentatively, Lorelei said, “We could take it for ourselves.”

Sylvia’s smile dropped. “Oh?”

“If it were convenient for him, he would turn on either one of us.”

After everything they’d seen, not even Sylvia could summon an argument in his defense. “Yes, I suppose he would. But protecting him is the best way to ensure stability. Besides, do you truly want to wield that kind of power?”

“ I don’t. If it is to be one of us, it should be you. It has to be you.”

Sylvia shook her head. “Me?”

“You’ve sworn loyalty to him. With the Ursprung’s power, you could protect him. You can be the adviser you always wanted to be. Better yet, you could make him into your puppet. What could he do to you—or to Albe—if he depended on you to keep his enemies at bay?”

Sylvia’s gaze drifted to the Ursprung. Its waters twinkled beckoningly. The unearthly glow it emitted filled Lorelei up with a quiet, insuppressible wonder.

“I haven’t used magic in years. Not since the war.”

Softly, Lorelei said, “I would not press the matter. But you deserve forgiveness.”

Sylvia laughed breathlessly, swiping her wrist beneath her eye to catch her tears. “Do you truly think so? I was terrified to touch that spring in Albe, you know. I worried that it would find me wanting. I still worry.”

Lorelei could hardly process what she’d said. Here, in this hallowed place, with the light silvering the planes and scars of Sylvia’s face, it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard in her life. “ You? Found wanting?”

Sylvia opened her mouth to reply, but Lorelei barreled onward.

“Sylvia von Wolff, the noblest and most compassionate woman I know. Friend to the wildeleute. Full of boundless hope. Open to all joys and magic this miserable world still holds. Who would be more deserving?”

Sylvia did not reply. Suddenly, her hands were warm against Lorelei’s jaw, her lips soft and sweet on her own. For a moment, Lorelei could do nothing but stare at her long white eyelashes. Her heart constricted almost painfully with tenderness. Nothing had ever felt so right.

A familiar voice echoed from behind them: Heike. “I knew it.”