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To those who feel lost at sea, may you find a safe harbor
At least in Garrett’s stories Tal would be the hero, and not the villain he was so scared of becoming.
You’re snarky when you’re tired.
Tal had thought romance absurd. How did the princess or the servant or the warrior always end up swooning in a lover’s arms? How did the right moment always find them between battles or after escape or right as the sun set? It all seemed ridiculous and farfetched and contrived. But he understood now—that moment of awakening, the heady rush of realization, and the beautiful ridiculousness of it.
Tal wrapped his arms around Athlen’s shaking body and held on. “I’ve got you.” “I know.” His breath was cool on Tal’s neck. “For how long?” “Until you tell me to let go.”
“The world isn’t kind,” Tal said as Garrett held him at arm’s length, the flames of the torch flickering from the ground, casting them both in eerie shadows. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be.”
know we’re both the last, and we’ve felt alone. But we could be alone together.”
“You promised once”—Athlen’s lips grazed Tal’s cheek—“that you’d show me what the bed of a prince was like.” “I didn’t mean it like that.” Athlen smiled, coy yet fond, while he played with strands of Tal’s hair. “I did.”
“It’ll be like a scene from my favorite novel. Except you’re both soaking wet and covered in blood.”
They kissed, and kissed, and Tal would’ve thought it a fairy tale if not for the sand in his collar, and the water in his boots, and the ache of his body. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
