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Not the crown. Not the endless duty. Not the victories carved in blood and salt.
Justher.
The truth is cruelly simple.
I would give everything to keep her.
The sea, the throne, even the life I thought was mine to guard—it is nothing compared to her.Simple math.
Phoebe is my all.
Without her, I am hollow tide and empty storm.
She fills the space in me I never even knew was barren, completes a chord that had always been missing.
And as I hold her now, our bodies spent and our bond still thrumming with silver fire, I understand with finality: she fits me in every way that matters.
And there is nothing—nothing—I would not do to make sure I will always be at her side.
The water thrashes, then calms, glowing like liquid moonlight.
The bond cements, undeniable, unbreakable, eternal.
She is in me, of me, and I in her—two halves closed into one.
When the storm inside us eases, I hold her against my chest, her breaths shaky but steady, her heartbeat matched to mine.
I kiss her damp hair and swear, soft and certain, “Never again will I let the sea, or shadow, or fate try to take you from me. You are mine to keep safe, viyella. And I love you.”
Her answering sob is pure joy.
She clings tighter, her body melting against mine, and through the bond I feel her answer—silent but blazing.
She loves me, too.
I close my eyes, allowing this moment to roam, carrying away the aches and terror of battle, leaving only us, tangled and desperate and whole.
The whirlpool calms at last, the water glowing faintly around us like the sea itself bears witness to what we’ve become.
She clings to me, breathless and shaking, and I know I could take her again here—wild, desperate, unstoppable. But no.
She deserves more than my hunger. She deserves the whole of me.
With a thought, I still the currents and gather her into my arms.
She is light and heavy at once, her body soft against mine, her trust absolute.
I rise from the pool, steam curling off us in waves, and carry her toward the bedchamber.
Every step is a vow.
To worship, to protect, to love her as fiercely in gentleness as I do in passion.
I carry her from the bath, reveling in the fact that she is mine to hold, mine to cherish and covet.
Her body rests limply against mine, her head leaning on my shoulder—and I am whole.
She is warm, damp, and radiant, and every breath she takes eases the storm inside me.
