Mische leaned her forehead against his. Her gold eyes shone with the light of the underworld. Their song played on, mournful, painting the ghost of a life they could not have. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you, Asar Voldari, Warden of Morthryn, king of the underworld, heir of Alarus. I love you, and in this life or the next, worlds mortal or divine, I will never let you go.”
