57. Paris

Naked.

Minerva was naked, had gutted Memnon while the sun shone golden on her skin.

I was never going to get used to unexpected nakedness.

Nor, it seemed, would Helena, who was standing beside me, her eyes fixed on the Raven chief. Her head tipped to the left, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip, she asked, "Who's that?"

Blood, it seemed, did something for my sister. I shivered.

"Chief Minerva," I whispered back, "of the Raven clan."

"Oh." A little sound, punctuated by redness swelling in her cheeks.

Behind us, Hector grunted as he shoved out of the back of the carriage. Killian was there to smoothly offer him an arm to steady himself on the way down, but then my brother leaned heavy on his cane.

And I?—

This was my home. It was down to me to see my family settled within it.

"Come on," I said, casting a wavering smile at the both of them. There was a mess in the street, Orestes staring with a hollow, complicated twist of features at his father's body, but none of that was something I could help right away. What I could do was bring my family inside, give them a chance to breathe after a long, hard road.

On the way past, I caught Brett's eye, and he nodded, glancing toward his cousin. Rosaline sprang into action at the unspoken suggestion and ushered us forward.

I offered Helena the room I'd been given upon first arriving—I had no intention of denying myself another moment of Brett's company, and if he'd have me in his bed, in his room, in his life, all the better.

Rosaline found another for Hector, and when we all wandered back into the kitchen, loath to be alone and unsure what to do, Esmerelda was already making tea.

"The commotion outside?" she asked as she carried the tray to the table and poured into little cups.

"Handled," I said. "Minerva appeared to see the Eagle's claims rebuked."

Esmerelda nodded. "Good. And these"—she glanced past me at my siblings—"are yours?"

I smiled, breathing in deep through my nose as it hit me—my family was safe. I'd provided them with a place, and Hector was recovering, and Helena would never have to marry anyone that she didn't want.

We might've lost a lot in the process, but I knew my clan wouldn't let us down or turn us out in the aftermath. It was more than I could say for anyone in Urial.

"Yes," I said, standing back so she could get a good look at them. "These are my sister, Helena, and my brother, Hector." I turned to look at them, as they each dipped a little nod to Esmerelda. "Esmerelda came from the south. She's Nemedan now too, but she wasn't always. And, well, she helped me when I was ill."

Esmerelda scoffed. "We helped each other," she amended, then, she turned toward my siblings. "Your brother rescued me from the snows. Still don't know how you Urials stand it."

Helena laughed. "We must be particularly hotblooded."

We sat for tea, everyone making polite conversation, though Esmerelda seemed deeply unimpressed with the actions of the Eagle when I explained them.

And in time, Brett came in.

I raised my head. "Orestes?"

Brett only nodded, but I took it to mean everything was well. "Still talking logistics with Minerva. He's all right."

I thought of my own father, of watching him slip away. And though it was nearly impossible for someone to feel nothing about a parent, my father had been a good man. Perhaps that simplified matters for Orestes, or maybe it didn't. In any case, Brett didn't seem particularly worried over his state of mind and if he was talking to Minerva about the future of the clans, offering advice, I found it unlikely that he would challenge the settlement of matters.

Still, I did not envy him his mourning or his disappointing family. He might've come to challenge Brett, but he'd done so honorably, provided Brett with the knife he used to defend himself against Orestes's own father, and he'd helped me when I'd been unsure what to do.

I hoped that, even without his family of birth, he would find satisfaction with another, and I vowed then and there that I would be a part of it if he wanted me to be.

But I glanced at Brett's chest, the clothes he wore still scored and bloody.

"We should get you cleaned up," I said, my voice only slightly hitched by the fear of what might've been. "Will you be all right?"

Hector and Helena nodded, but it was Esmerelda who waved us away. "Go on. I'll help Rosaline with supper. You two come down when you're ready."

We went to Brett's room, where I'd convalesced, and Rosaline brought up water and herbs. Mostly, I thought she wanted to see that Brett was well, but she was quick to leave us alone, and I was grateful for it.

Brett shed his shirt and sat on the edge of his bed.

I hissed. The line across his chest was shallow but long, and I hated Memnon for marking him. He was mine?—

And gods, did we need to talk about that.

"I offered Helena my room," I whispered as I dragged a clean, wet towel across the cut.

"Oh?"

"I thought—" When I caught Brett's eye, there was something glistening in them, and I wanted to think it was hope. "Well, I thought I could stay here, if you don't mind. I mean, if it's not an imposition."

Plenty of couples chose to sleep apart, but I didn't want that. Particularly not right then, when all I could think of was how much I wanted to keep him, to see him every morning and kiss him before I fell asleep each night.

"I understand if it's too soon," I hurried on, "or if you'd like to take some time for feelings to settle, but?—"

Already, Brett was shaking his head. He drew me forward, stilling both my hands with his own, dragging me in until I could touch his chest and absorb his warmth and feel the steadiness of his every breath.

He was fine. He'd be fine. Somehow, in all of this, I'd lost nothing.

At least, nothing that I'd actually had in the first place.

Sure, I had once crafted a future in my imagination, one that included Urial and Tybalt and all manner of things I'd assumed but had taken for granted. It'd all fallen through my fingers, because it had only ever been as real as a reflection in handfuls of water I was trying to keep hold of.

But what really mattered—I had all that, and so much more. In sending me away, Albany had offered me a people I could rely on, a future I could be sure of, and a man that I—that I?—

"I love you," I blurted out, staring down at him, eyes wide. "I do. Everything you've done—you're the best man I've ever met. You're kind and generous and patient and—and you are something else to fucking look at. I want to see you every day. I want to make you smile, to see you safe, to know you're cared for. I want you. I want this."

A smile spread across his lips. Through all my blubbering, he'd stayed silent. Now, he propped his chin against my chest and grinned up at me, almost close enough to kiss if I would only dip my head.

"Do you know what I want?" he whispered.

It was only his lingering smile that kept me from worrying that it wasn't me, but his arms were wrapped around the small of my back as he sat on his bed, and I stood there, sure that whatever came next, it'd be right—for both of us.

"Tell me," I said.

He pressed a kiss into the hollow beneath my ribs before looking up at me again. "I want exactly the same."