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“Who did this to you?”
“Don’t go,” he murmured hoarsely, fitfully, a man caught in a fever-dream. “I won’t bring up the rebels again. I won’t breathe another word. Just—don’t leave me, Tala.”
“I couldn’t kill that rebel.” It was a choked, bewildered rumble in her ear. “One word from you and I let my guard down. I couldn’t kill you, either, all those times before . . . What am I, if I’m not a weapon? What have you done to me?”
“You’re not just a weapon,” she mumbled into his neck. “You have a sweet tooth and sometimes you make me laugh. I tell you things that I’ve never told anyone else.” The very air seemed to spin golden with each surge of memory, aether humming between their forms. “You helped me with my magic. You tackled me out of the way of that void bolt. Today you made sure I could run and fight. All of these things—they’re not what a weapon is, or does. You’re so much more than a weapon. You could be more.”
Talasyn flashed Alaric a small, hopeful smile. “Pretty, isn’t it?” Strands of chestnut hair had spilled loose from her braid and were blowing in the wind. The sun brought out the gold in her eyes and danced atop the freckles on her softly rounded cheeks. He was looking at her when he said, “Yes.”
“Write to me again, Tala.” There was a teasing lilt to his tone. “I’ll write back. I promise. We’ll endure your awkwardness together.”
“You’re nothing like him. You would never hurt your own child the way he hurts you.”
How deep such a simple statement cut. A blade through the heart. With the pain came the anger, and he opened his mouth to tell her off, but something about the way she was huddled against the wall, so small in his tunic, her brown eyes faintly luminous in their earnestness, even as she seemed to steel herself . . . but for what?
“First of all,” he said through gritted teeth, “I don’t know how to react to you. You are infuriating and self-righteous and you get under my skin. Secondly, there have never been any other women—there was never anyone before you—and much to my dismay you have provoked me so much that you’ve wormed your way into my dreams. You are the only one who plagues them. And one last thing”—his voice lowered into a growl—“the next time I kiss you, I want to remember it.”
“Little hellcat,” he muttered, lost in her narrowed eyes flashing with hints of gold. “Claws out even while you purr.”
She would have interpreted this as pity in the time before, and it would have rankled. But she knew him better now. Knew enough to tell the difference between his pity and his compassion.
No more, Alaric vowed to himself from where he stood at Talasyn’s side, the two of them holding back the amethyst bolts, holding back the rot, keeping their island safe. I will go against my father to make it so. After the Sardovian rebels, no more.
“I just wanted to say—” Alaric broke off. What did he want to say? Talasyn blinked up at him. “Yes?” I am sorry for everything. I liked writing to you. I won’t let my father hurt you. I know we agreed that it’s simply physical attraction between us, but sometimes—sometimes I think— Ever since we met, I have lived in a dream of what could be.
“If there’s anything I believe in,” he said, “it’s your stubbornness. It annoys me quite frequently, but it can move mountains. I would have no one else by my side tonight.”
It would be so easy to love you in a different life.
Everything ended, even pain, even empires. Everything but this. War was the unchanging season, the eternal state. No matter what Talasyn did, no matter what crown she donned, no matter who she loved or didn’t love, someone was always going to die.
