Page 144 of Sweetling
Balar huffed in agreement. “Speaking of, how often have you been to this town of Mullon I keep hearing of? Are there many unmated females there?”
Allarion blinked, having to think about it. “I’m not sure…”
Somehow, the manticore roped him into providing an estimate, but thankfully, the conversation eventually moved to how the otherly village continued to grow. Balar spoke wistfully of how another two half-orcs had found themselves a human mate.
“Perhaps humans are more partial to the color green?” Balar wondered.
Allarion offered what advice he could, although he didn’t know how helpful it could be. He didn’t need Molly beside him to remember that stealing away or buying a human mate weren’t viable options. Tempting and expedient as it might be, he would always remember how close he came to losing Molly entirely with a shudder of horror.
He listened to the manticore patiently, understanding that, under his bluster and boisterousness, Balar and his brothers were ultimately lonely. They’d fled a vicious pride war in the southern grasslands, wishing for peace and a good life—preferably one shared with a human mate. Allarion couldn’t fault them for it, not when he met every day with an abiding gratitude to his goddesses for bringing him to his queen.
Slapping his hand on the manticore’s beefy shoulder in return, Allarion said, “There are many beautiful human women in the Darrowlands. I’m sure one of them will make you a very happy man.”
Balar laughed, his grin lopsided. “Well, I wish she’d hurry up about it!”
Allarion sensed his Molly before he saw her, turning his gaze in time to watch her emerge from the house. She had only one of her cousins in tow now, though the girl quickly scampered off to find more delights, leaving Molly to return to him.
His soul alighted to see her walking toward him, her eyes glittering and her smile beatific. Her hair had gone a little mussed over the day and her dress had wrinkled in a few places, but she was the picture of beauty and grace, every bit the lady she was meant to be.
He reached for her, needing to draw her closer that much sooner. Allarion tucked her into his side, his heart beating a little harder to have her beside him.
“Next time we’re in Dundúran, you should find an excuse to be there, too. I’m sure I can make some introductions,” Molly offered.
Balar’s gaze gleamed with interest, so much so, he didn’t seem to question or care why she knew their conversation already without having heard it. He listened intently as Molly offered her own advice, such as reining back some of the manticore intensity and not marking a woman’s home as their territory before they had express confirmation that she was interested.
Allarion listened, too, charmed by the advice.
Is this how I should have courted you, sweetling?
Even as she spoke with Balar, she squeezed an arm around his waist.
You managed just fine,she thought, throwing him a little wink.Even if your methods were…strange.
Perhaps to her. To him, they were a mere fraction of what he’d been and was willing to do to have her. He could regret not speaking to her rather than her uncle, but he’d never be sorry for claiming what he knew was his.
For all his many days and long life, he would always remember the one that brought him to her. Every day with her made him that much more grateful for that day in Dundúran, when he heard a beautiful, laughing voice that drew his attention to a well. It had been like any other well, in any other city square. Yet, that day, that place had changed the course of his existence.
Slipping his hand to her waist, Allarion pulled her close to lay a kiss on the top of her head, her fragrant hair teasing his nose.
My heart.
She answered not with words but a wash of love, passed along the numerous threads of magic that bound them together. Her love rebounded down the weave of magic, reverberating in the weft and knit, declaring to every tree and beast connected to this land that she was bound, heart and soul, to him.
To know he held the love of such a woman was a force stronger than any magic, vaster than any ocean, and deeper than any mountain.
She was hisazai,his pride, his life. She was the very beat of his heart. A surprise and a blessing, never to be taken for granted.
Allarion would do anything for such a love. Remake the world, dethrone a tyrant, cross land and sea unknown—even live a little life, obscure and happy. He didn’t need fame or renown, honor or power. All he needed was her and her happiness.
Andmyhappiness,said Bellarand.
Epilogue
One Month Later
For several days now, Allarion’s hopes played tricks on his mind. As the landscape rolled around them, he convinced himself he recognized it, that a familiar hillock or stream meant Ravenna’s bower was just a few moments away.
He did remember the path he and Bellarand had taken north when they first left her to the deep sleep. The stark memory was their guide south again, yet as each day passed without finally finding the bower, Allarion’s fears only grew.
