Page 81 of Heartsong
“No, I—I’m tired of being this way. I’m tired of these fucking headaches. I hate what they do to me, and I hate that I can’t make them better. And I worry…” Her voice warbled as she took a long, sniffling breath. “What if it’s cosmic justice? What if I get them because I’m a bad person, or for everything I’ve done? I’m not a good person, Frey. I’ve stolen things. I’ve lied to people. I hold grudges. I’m not soulmate material.”
“You are you, Anna. The good and the bad. Do you think I’m perfect?”
“No, but…”
Frey eased under the pillows with her, placing his face close to hers without quite touching. “I have killed before. I have looked at my kinsmen with jealousy and coveted what they had. I have been prideful and vain and hotheaded. Does this mean I’m unworthy of a mate?”
He’d asked himself this question before, in his heart of hearts, and it always left him cold with terror. What if it was true? What if he truly wasn’t worthy, and that was why he had everything in his dwelling except what mattered—a mate, a family?
“No,” she said.
“Then why are you less worthy? Why do you think you deserve less?”
“Good things don’t happen to me, and having someone like you just land in my lap feels too good to be true.”
His vanity was certainly pleased with her words, but he thought he understood her. His soul ached to know she thought herself undeserving of good things, when really, she deserved everything good he could give and more.
“Nothing about this has been easy. At least for now, I cannot go outside with you. I cannot do something as simple as stand beside you in the street.” He still found it galling, that the stone sleep was his prison in the daylight and her modern world another at night. But he would make do because this all meant he had Anna. “It will not be easy, my Anna, but it will be good. This I vow to you. I will make our life so good.”
He’d known how burdensome her headaches were, but now he understood. The pain weighed on her, and he could understand how that burden would be too heavy to bear sometimes. He’d known some in the clan who’d had pains they dealt with; old Hagar had lost his foot in battle and the wound often bothered him, and Carys had been born with malformed wings. Everyone had their burdens, and he thought his Anna admirable for weathering as best she could.
It was her strength that made him determined not to be a burden to her, too, and he told her as much. “I will share in your load,fynghân. Not add to it.”
She made an unhappy noise. “Frey, you’ve been amazing. I’ve never…no one’s taken care of me like this before. I like having you around—at least when we’re not arguing.”
“Because I always win?” he teased, hiding his sharp relief at her words.
“You wish.”
Carefully, Frey brushed Anna’s hair back and ran his thumb over her cheek. He was always mesmerized by the softness of her. She could be prickly, most certainly, but there was another side to her, one that was soft and warm and so, so kind.
It terrified him to know that he could crush that delicate, beautiful part of her. And that she showed it to him at all. He would spend his life protecting it, for he wanted all of her sweetness and softness.
“Twice now I’ve lost everything precious to me.” Soon he would tell her of his mother and sister, of their lives and their loss. He would tell her too of that horrible night when the fae stripped everything from him and his kin, when he’d thought it better to have died than suffer their curse. Now, painful as those had been, he could be grateful it’d brought him to his heartsong. “I spent my life gathering things to fill my dwelling and be ready for my mate. I’ve waited for you for a long time,fy nghariad. Even before the fae’s curse. But I can be patient, my Anna. I can be whatever you need me to be, whether it is as your mate or not.”
The breath she took was long, and it felt as though she stole it from his own lungs. She could have it, his air, his lungs, his heart, everything, if she’d only just—
“I don’t think I can promise anything, but…” She licked her lips, and her fingertips found the curve of his jaw. “I want to try.”
A rush of air, of relief and hope and determination, burst out of him, but he was gentle when he took her hands in his again and said, “That’s all I ask. We will try. Together.”
Her tears finally dried, Anna burrowed in close, her nose finding the hollow of his throat. She breathed in deeply there as Frey wrapped his arms and a wing around her.
“Together,” she murmured into his skin, branding him with her promise.
Frey purred his happiness, and his chest went tight when she asked softly, “Would you tell me about everything you gathered?”
Stroking her hair, Frey told her of all the things he’d collected over the years, everything he’d gathered in preparation for a mate. The pretty shells and glass beads and soft furs. He spoke proudly of the large bed he’d made, ready to cuddle a mate close every night just as he was with her. He’d made strong nets and glazed pots and chairs of sturdy oak, and traded for fine cloth and pewter cups and gold brooches.
“’S beautiful,” she mumbled, and he could tell she was close to sleep.
Frey lulled her with stories of his dwelling, of how he would have carried her across the threshold and shown her every single thing that was hers now, too.
Soon, Anna fell into sleep, and Frey held her tight.
His heartache was still there, but it was bittersweet. He’d lost his family, his kin, his dwelling. Speaking of everything that had been lost was never easy, but he realized that all those lost things had been gathered for a mate, a figment of his hopes.
What he had now was far more precious.
