Page 82 of Duke of the Sun

Michael nodded fervently. “Anything.”

“I wish for you to say.”

For the first time in his life, Michael felt something other than darkness and despair fill the emptiness within his chest. Instead, there was a timid light in his heart, steadily growing stronger and stronger. The future he never believed he could have, the one that had been torn away from him, suddenly seemed to be within his reach. He flinched at it, unsure if he could trust that light that was beginning to grow. But then his eyes fell upon Cordelia once more, and the feeling of her hands over his cheeks became more and more apparent.

Michael leaned into her hand, no longer doubting if she’d be able and willing to hold him up. And when he spoke again, there was nothing but certainty in his voice, a strength he forgot he had within him all along.

“Then I shall stay.”

Cordelia smiled and closed the space between them, pressing a delicate and feather-like kiss to his lips. He let his eyes flutter shut, breathing her in and letting the hope cascade over him like a waterfall.

Life, he realized, had never tasted so sweet.

CHAPTER25

The sun crept in through the windows late in the morning. While the countryside was doused with a grand thunderstorm, the morning after was something of a heaven like beauty. The colors of the earth glistened in the sunlight after soaking up all the rain. Grass shimmered a deeply pungent green, while the trees were sturdier than ever before, housing all sorts of creatures that were ready to see what the rain managed to pull out of the soil. Fresh buds of wildflowers began to grow, their roots already stretching into the land below.

And the sky was immaculately clear, the brightest blue Cordelia had ever seen. The first thought she had when her eyes lazily opened was to retrieve her canvas. Everything was far too beautiful for her to ignore it, demanding to be memorialized with her paint. But then, the moment she was about to jerk out of her bed, Cordelia remembered the events that transpired late in the previous evening.

Beside her, partly sitting on a plush chair and leaning heavily on the bed, was Michael. He slept soundly, his breathing deep and heavy. Dark brown hair fell across his neck and face, slightly curled from the rain he was forced to endure. From where she sat, the scars he bared crept up from beneath his collar, striking his tanned skin and shimmering in the light. Cordelia reached, twisting her fingers within his hair and moving them from his eyes. Perhaps the world outside of Solshire was presenting itself in a beauty demanded to be painted, but Cordelia could only see Michael, and all of his glory.

Her fingers lingered on his neck, delicately tracing the scars, when he began to stir. Cordelia jerked her hand away, almost embarrassed. The last time she had seen him in such a vulnerable state was when she entered the bathroom after he had just finished, his scar filled back entirely exposed to her. Now, there was a difference in his vulnerability, one that was not out of accident or mere folly. What happened next was entirely real, and Cordelia found herself unable to believe it right away.

Michael lifted his head, his eyes furrowed as he tried to wake himself up. When he looked upon her, his dark eyes crinkled as a smile tugged at his lips.

A smile,Cordelia thought to herself. When was the last time she had truly seen him smile?

“Good morning,” he said, his voice cracked and hoarse from sleep. “Are you well?”

Cordelia looked down at her leg. “I believe I am,” she replied. “Though I might be bedridden longer than I’d like.”

“Healing is important.”

“Bed rest forat leasta week is more like torture than the words of a healer,” Cordelia teased, unable to tread to the more important things that lurked in her mind. Their early morning interaction felt like a fever dream, one she came up with all on her own.

Michael returned with a teasing smirk. “Perhaps we should make that a fortnight, then.”

Cordelia laughed, hardly able to keep it in any longer.

She glanced back at him, holding his intense stare. The longer they remained in silence, the more she remembered their talk the night before. Everything came rushing back to her, a heat rising to her face. Perhaps she had imagined it all, and he returned to only see if she needed any assistance. Maybe her dreams were plagued with the idea of him devoting himself to her, admitting his love as she said it back. It couldn’t have all been true, could it? It was far too fantastical, far too good to be really true.

“Michael,” she finally said. “Was it all real?”

His brow furrowed. “Was what real?”

“Everything,” she whispered. “Everything that was said.”

Michael’s face softened. He reached, tucking one of her curls behind her ear, his fingertips lingering on the curve of her cheek. The touch was simple but heavy, pulling a feeling of pleasure out from her stomach.

“It was real.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “If not, it would’ve been the grandest dream I ever had.”

“I am glad it was not a dream,” he said. “Are you?”

Cordelia returned his smile. “I am more than glad, Michael.”

Michael watched her closely, the corner of his lip turned upwards. “I got your painting, you know.”

---