In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen’s chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan’s assassin.
At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.
In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.
She’d endured Maeve and Cairn; she’d endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.
Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. “Elide and Lorcan told you … told you everything that was said on that beach.”
A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes.
“Everything that Maeve said.”
Another nod.
She braced herself. “That I’m—we’re mates.”
Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. “Yes.”
“I’m your mate,” she said, needing to voice it. “And you are mine.”
Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. “What of it, Aelin?” His question was low, rough.
“Don’t you …” She scrubbed at her face. “You know what she did to you, to …” She couldn’t say her name. Lyria. “Because of it.”
“I do know.”
“And?”
“And what do you wish me to say?”
She pushed off the desk. “I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If …”
“If what?”
“If you wish it wasn’t so.”
His brows narrowed. “Why would I ever wish that?”
She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.
It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was. “Aelin.” His voice turned hoarse. “Aelin.”
She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.
“Do you know what I wish?” He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. “I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then.”
She swallowed against the ache in her throat. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?”
“I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understandhowit was possible. I thought maybe … maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just …” She blew out a breath. “I didn’t want you to be distressed.”
His eyes softened. “Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve’s game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened.” He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. “But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always knowIchose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve’s hands.”
“Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though.”
“Then it is her choice, not yours.”