47. Forty-Seven

Forty-Seven

I was standing on the terrace, looking over the lights from Nethkar twinkling below me against the night sky when Landers sauntered onto the landing.

“It’s beautiful . . . your home,” I said, not turning away from the glow of it. “It’s calm here . . . Peaceful almost.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he stepped up to the railing beside me. “It’s like any other city, with its brothels and taverns. But it’s safe, and that is enough for me.” I could feel his eyes, watching me as I stared off into the glittering night.

And I could feel it, that shift in the wind—electricity building between us.

I shifted my weight, letting out a soft breath as I turned to fully face him. “Is something the matter?” I searched his face, looking for a clue, a hint as to what he was thinking.

He stared back at me, his jaw feathering. “I thought you were dead.”

“Landers, I—”

“Please, Hyacinth. I cannot go another day without telling you this.”

I nodded, my throat bobbing.

“I knew the moment the High Priest presented it to us, that you would take his deal . . . and I knew that nothing—no one—would be able to stop you from it. I wanted to beg you; get on my knees and beg you not to do it. I did not care how that would make me look to my enemies—the weakness they would have seen there. I understood, in that moment, how Taft had become so blinded by his need to protect you . . . But then you looked at me with those beautiful eyes, so full of strength and power and asked me to make you a promise. And I knew then that if that promise was the last thing I ever gave you, it would have to be enough. If I had to spend the rest of eternity keeping it, I would do it. I would do it without hesitation. So, I did not beg you, and . . . When we tethered to Ithia I came undone.

“I did not think it was possible for me to break anymore than I already had. Then I saw you . . . Saw you dying at the feet of your dragon . . . It nearly destroyed me, Hyacinth. I could not breathe. And when I had you in my arms again . . . when you whispered those words to me, I made a vow to the Gods that I would never leave your side again. That wherever you went, I would follow, even to death.” He took a step toward me.

This close, I could taste the scent of him—moss and woods and coffee.

I wasn’t sure if my heart was still beating . . . if I was still breathing.

“But now you are here, standing before me, alive and healthy and so full of that exquisite rage—so full of pain . . . and I cannot deny it any longer. I cannot pretend that this—whatever this is between us—is not real. I will not . . . I cannot let that promise be the last thing I ever give you.”

My lips trembled as he tucked straying curls behind my ear.

Landers’s gaze bore into me, his dark emerald eyes searching mine for answers I didn’t know how to give.

I didn’t deserve him.

After everything I had done, I did not deserve someone as gentle and selfless as him.

“Landers . . .” I whispered, taking a step back, out of his touch.

His eyes flashed with pain.

“You don’t want me.” My voice was barely audible above the distant sounds of the city. “Anything there was left in me to love is gone. There is nothing left inside of me. I am nothing . Nothing but a shell. The only love that I have left to give is tainted—broken. And you . . . you deserve so much more than that. You deserve someone who is strong; who doesn’t crumble under the smallest amounts of pressure. Someone who isn’t afraid to merely exist.”

He let out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, and ran a hand through his hair. “With all due respect, Hyacinth,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You are so fucking beautiful and brilliant in the way you exist . . . in the way you battle through life with unmatched elegance and graceful violence. Your love, it is your most valuable asset, despite it being abused, overlooked, and taken for granted by a coward.”

Tears were sliding down my face.

“I am not him. I want the shell of you. I want the broken, scattered shards. I want the tears, the nightmares, the pain. I want you. All of you. The fear, and every fragmented piece of your blackened soul; I want those parts too.”

The rawness in Landers’s voice tugged at somewhere deep inside of me and my hands began to shake.

I had the dizzying feeling the ground was slipping out from under me.

I turned away from him, gripping the railing and taking deep breaths.

“Nobody stays forever,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think my heart can survive losing anyone else.”

He closed the distance between us, and his hand reached up to cup my chin—to pull my glistening eyes to his.

“Then let me be your nobody, and I will protect every beat of your heart until the day my soul is called back to The Gods. And even after that, I will go to war with the Deity until they give me a second life’s breath so I can love you again and again and again.”

My heart stopped at the sound of those words.

He shook his head, tension feathering through his jaw. “You can say anything—do anything. You can turn my heart to dust . . . rip my soul to shreds and still . . . still I will not abandon you.”

I reached for him, my fingertips brushing against the rough stubble on his jaw, the warm skin of his face. He didn't pull away, but he didn't move closer either.

We stood there like that for a moment, the silence stretching between us like a fragile thread.

Landers truly looked at me then, his eyes softening with something that looked like veneration as he ran a hand through my hair. “You are mine,” he said the words, not with possession, but in devotion. “You do not belong to me, but I . . . I belong to you.”

I searched his eyes for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but there was none there.

“You love me?” I breathed.

“I love you, Hyacinth.”

Landers’s lips curled into a small smile.

Then, he kissed me.