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imagine what it would be like to be immortal, to hold no fear of death. To dance and burn for an endless era. And I think how dull such an existence would be. That one would do anything to feel the sharp edge of life again.”
“The days may be dark,” Sidra said. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t feel joy.
And you don’t need my permission to go stay at your mum’s.” “Don’t I?” he countered, looking at her. “You’re my wife and my laird.” “So I am,” she whispered. “How did this come to be?” He smiled, as if he felt the same awe. “I haven’t the slightest inkling, Adaira.”
“Are you telling me that you were glad to see me, Adaira?” “I was,” she said, and her breath caught beneath his caress. “I was glad to feel something stir within me after years of being cold and empty. I just never imagined I would find it in you.” It was like she had stolen the very words from his mouth. And he wanted them back.
I would not exist if you had been born in the east. I am but a verse inspired by your chorus, and I will follow you until the end, when the isle takes my bones and my name is nothing more than a remembrance on a headstone, next to yours.”