Page 77 of The Crown of Moonlight
“I woke up in the cavern, wondering how I could marry anyone who wouldn’t give me as much of himself as you had.Someone who wouldn’t see me as an equal.Despite being an Ever and a Rider, you never made me feel that I wasless—until I discovered everything between us had been a lie.Then I overheard the Riders talking, and they made no effort to hide their contempt for humans.For me.”
I hate the hurt that bleeds into my voice.
Chyr’s breath comes hard, and his voice is a rasp.“I’m not them, Flora.You’ve never been a coward, so I don’t believe you ran because Daire and Lorcan indulged in their usual self-absorption.Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“Because what if youarelike them?What if even that is a lie between us?”
“Don’t you know me better than that?”Gently, he taps my heart with two fingers.“In here, you know how I feel about you.”
“I know I feel more than it’s safe to feel.You’re the rebel king.You hid that from me because your safety depends on no one knowing.What if the other Riders want to kill me for knowing?”
“I will never let that happen.”There’s no inflection in the words, but the way he says it leaves no doubt.
He traces two fingers up my throat to my chin, then cups my cheek.I want to sink into his warmth.My eyes want to close, but I pull back.
“Are you going to run again?”he asks.“Because if you are, I’m going to need a minute before I can follow you.”
“You don’t need me.Your Riders can get you to Muilean.And here.”I reach into my bodice and pull the Veilstone ring from between my breasts.“You’ll need this.Only promise me that when you bring your army back, you’ll treat us better than your father did.Don’t exploit us the way Tirnaeve always has.We won’t stand for it this time, so don’t expect to find us weak.”
“You’re the one who underestimates yourself.You mistake fear for weakness when it’s no more than a boundary to test your courage.The compassion you’ve shown me, your honour, intelligence, and refusal to give up no matter the odds, those are all traits Siorai once admired.In you, I see a reflection of who my people used to be.You and this war have shown me how far we’ve departed from truth and justice.We twist both until they’re a hairbreadth from breaking.”
I search Chyr’s face for evasion or deceit, for distortion.His expression is naked, the tendons standing out from his throat, and pain etched starkly in the lines around his eyes.The silver scar stands out more clearly at the corner of his mouth.
He threads his hands through mine.“You and I—that was truth.A moment out of time I’d lay down my sword to live in forever with you.Whatever happens now, I need you to remember that.You matter.You’re the reason my heart still beats.”
I’m choking on my grief, but I shake my head.“Be careful, Chyr, for all our sakes.And when you get to Muilean, find a way to send Bramble home to me.Don’t let Vheara’s soldiers or the Cymbeul militia take her.”
I turn to leave, but he doesn’t release my hands.“Are you running away?”
“I’m walking,” I whisper, stepping back.
With one sharp tug, he catches me and wraps his arms around me, capturing my mouth in a kiss that starts gently, sweetly.In spite of what I tell myself, I want to kiss him back.
One last kiss.
I give in, and he groans.His hands rake into my braided hair.The kiss deepens, and I’m falling, drowning.The world spins.Heat floods my limbs, boils through my veins, leaves me tingling with every nerve ending alive at once.
Chyr pulls back, and his hands drop to my shoulders.But the heat doesn’t stop.
My whole body catches fire.
The sensation pours through me, agony worse than running out of magic, and the skin across my forehead sizzles as if it’s been branded.
I slap at it, trying to stop it.But I can’t feel anything there.
A green haze flashes across my vision, and all that pain and heat concentrates into narrow points.The reek of the bog rushes at me, far too strong.
My heart lurches into a sprint as if it can outrun whatever’s happening.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”Chyr stares, his skin bleached white, a muscle clenched in his jaw.He catches my wrist.“I am so, so sorry.”
“What have you done?”My voice trembles.
His eyes hold such raw sorrow and rage that it makes me stagger.He drops his arm to my waist and holds me up.
“I have failed you in so many ways.”His voice is grim and hoarse.“I hoped I was wrong—or at least that we could wait until we reached Muilean and Beltane.But I should have found the strength to warn you.And to tell you what I feel for you while there was still a chance that you’d believe me.I know how important it is to you to choose for yourself.That’s what I regret more than anything.I’m sorry that this will take so many choices from you.”
His finger shakes as he brushes the tip across my forehead precisely where it hurts, and the burn throbs with the thunder of my heart.
