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“And now that I’ve had you, it’s only worsened. I cannot stop thinking about this morning.
“When we’re done sparring, I must douse myself in the stream’s icy waters.” Releasing her hair, Rey kissed her roughly. “When you lean over to stir the porridge, I have to count the beams in the wall.” He rocked his hips against her. “And when your hair falls into your face”—he dragged his mouth down her neck—“I takes every ounce of my will not to bury my hands in it.”
“I want to learn you. What you like. And I won’t be rushed, Silla.”
“Those sounds you make…I want to hear them every night, Silla.”
As Rey rolled back, Silla mindlessly expressed her light. The orb formed, wobbling above them. “Look how far you’ve come,” said Rey, expressing a ribbon of smoke. Silently, Silla watched as light and dark swirled together, marveling at how his darkness made her light shine so much brighter.
“Again?” she asked, her own desire stirring deep in her belly. “I told you,” he grumbled, dragging his nose along hers. “I always want you. It’s a problem.”
By anyone else’s standards, the shield-home would be a grim place to lay one’s head. And yet Rey could not think of anywhere he’d rather be.
Someone needed to do something. Someone needed to make this stop. Someone needed to make them pay. Her thoughts crystalized, cold and sharp.
This, he realized, was what it felt like to be cared for. She saw all parts of him and didn’t look away. Was soft when he needed tenderness, and fierce when he could not be.
“Here is another secret, Saga.” He leaned closer. “I do not care about treaty.”
“I can sit in your room if you wish,” he added. “Can help you with tapping. And if you wish it, you may take seeds.” A mischievous smile curved his lips. “And Rov tells me medovukha was saved in fire, thank the Mother Goddess. Lady Saga, you can pit2 if you are liking.” Against her better judgment, a smile twisted Saga’s lips. “What is that?” Rurik chuckled. “Get drunk, ptichka3. You can get pickled on medovukha for whole trip. I won’t tell anyone.”
Hearthfire thoughts, she thought as she walked. Harpa’s steam bath. The ice spirits. His Almost-Smile.
“Sunshine,” he pleaded, fingers fumbling around the base of her neck.
“My fighter,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms and standing unsteadily. Half a dozen hands reached out to support him. “You’re all right, you’re all right.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Silla or himself but decided it didn’t matter.
“Shh,” he said. “Don’t speak. Save your energy, my brave girl. I won’t let anything happen to you. I can’t lose—” Rey’s voice cracked, unable to finish. Emotion churned inside him so forcefully he shook.
“Come back to me, Silla,” he said. “I cannot do this without you.” She was softness he hadn’t known he needed, light casting away the deepest of his shadows.
“And when I buried Kristjan, I vowed I would never set foot in this place ever again.” It all made sense—Rey’s departure; the animosity between him and Harpa.
“I do not know if Harpa deserves forgiveness. But I know you deserve it, Rey. Anger is such a burden to carry. There is peace to be found in surrendering it.”
“I want you,” he said in a bare whisper. “More than air. More than anything in this gods damned world, Silla.”
“You make me happy, Sunshine—so damn happy it terrifies me. But the thought of losing you terrifies me even more. I want this. I want you…us.” Rey paused. “And if you never want to be Eisa, it won’t change how I feel. If you wish to rest, I will shield you from harm. If you want to fight, I will draw my sword beside you. If you want a hundred chickens, I will build you a hen-fortress.”
“Perhaps we can be frightened together.”
“Silla.” His lips came to hers. “I’ve been yours for a long time.”
