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“Are you sorry?” I felt myself falling deeper into the world that was Jase Ballenger. “Never. Not through a thousand tomorrows could I ever be sorry. Trouble with you makes me glad for it. I love you with every breath I will ever breathe. I love you, Jase.” “More than an orange?” he asked between kisses. “Let’s not get carried away, Patrei.”
Sometimes you need to own one whole day. Maybe that’s what makes you brave enough to face another.”
“If you believe it, I think it must be true. I just want you to remember there’s other people who need you. You have to keep your head on straight. Don’t go doing something crazy, something that’s going to get you killed. That won’t get her back.” I nodded. “I don’t plan on getting killed.” “No one ever does.”
Neither one offered me assurances that Kazi was fine, or even that she was alive. They knew the uncertainties of life. Kazi had told me that their parents had been brutally murdered. They knew that people we loved died, and like Caemus had said, no amount of wanting or anger or bargaining with the gods could change that, or bring them back. And yet, I still bargained with the gods every mile we traveled. Please don’t take her away from me. I will do anything.
It ignited a small squabble between the two of them, Wren telling her it was dangerous to get involved with the enemy. “Look at the trouble it got Kazi into—” She caught herself and looked at me. “Am I still the enemy?” I asked. “You’re a pain in the ass is what you are, but not the enemy—for now.” Strangely, coming from Wren, it almost sounded like a compliment.
Kazi of Brightmist … you are the love I didn’t know I needed.
I kept the anger at a distance for now. I knew it would consume me. For now Kazi was all that mattered. But I knew the rage would come, and then even the gods couldn’t keep me from Montegue.
“Right now my only plan is to kiss my wife. And I am fairly certain not even the gods can derail that.”
“Samuel’s light on his feet. He knows how to be quiet and take orders, a much underappreciated quality. And his hand is strong enough. Those launchers aren’t exactly precision weapons. Plus he’s gotten pretty good with his other hand.” “Hmm,” Synové said, licking her tongue over her lips. “Pretty good at what?” Wren moaned. “Don’t start,” she warned.
A fallen mercenary started to revive, reaching for a sword, and Judith hit his ribs with a hoe. He collapsed back to the ground. “Get up again, and I’ll make it permanent,” she warned.
Every one of my tomorrows is yours,
