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“My father imprisoned me in a tower chamber from the day of my birth. There was not much opportunity for riding.” Uneasy laughter fell to shamed silence.
This love within her was a tenacious weed that kept reaching for Maddek as if he were the sun.
Her silence did not mean punishment. It meant she was hurt. All this morning she had been.
She had promised to make his life a misery. He still believed she would. But in that moment, he’d realized his life would also be a greater misery if Yvenne wasn’t in it.
In bed and in battle, a warrior is too dependent upon his sword. Until you have the heart of a king, you will never truly have her and you will never truly protect her—and because you lack a king’s heart, you will lose her.
She believed that was when you truly learned someone’s character—after they’d been broken. When they lost someone they’d loved, and everything they’d known was destroyed. When they’d been brought so low, they might never rise again. And when they do rise, then whatever reason they find to keep going, to claw their way up, to crawl to their feet—she believed that reason would reveal who they truly were. She said that she didn’t know who you truly were.”
“What have I done, never saying this to you?” he said hoarsely. “Never telling you these words that I should have said over and over again. What have I done, that you do not know how I would ride across the world just to lay my gaze upon your face? That I would crawl there on the mere hope of knowing your touch again? What have I done, that as I kneel here, you still do not know that with my full heart, I love you?”
young Seri, who scraped meat from bone with her teeth as she told him, “You have to return. You are the greatest warrior in our tribe, so obviously you are the only warrior I would ever deign to marry.” Toric choked on a laugh. “Perhaps I will return for that, then.”
