She pushes herself to sit, then takes the glass, drinking the entire thing down. “Thanks.”
“You are.” I set the empty glass on the nightstand and then turn back to her, gazing into the hazel eyes that have haunted me since Parapet. “You are miraculous,” I finish in a whisper. “I was fucking terrified, Violet. There aren’t adequate words.”
“I’m fine, Xaden,” she says softly, her hand rising to rest above my pounding heart.
“I thought I was going to lose you.” The confession comes out strangled, and maybe it’s pushing my luck after all I’ve put her through, but I can’t keep from leaning forward and brushing my lips over her forehead, then her temple. Gods, I’d kiss her forever if I thought it would keep the coming argument at bay, keep us in this one pristine moment where I can actually believe that everything might be all right between us, that I haven’t irrevocably fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“You aren’t going to lose me.” She gives me a puzzled look, smiling like I’ve said something peculiar. Then she leans in and kisses me.
She still wants me. The revelation makes my heart fucking soar. I take the kiss deeper, swiping my tongue over her soft lower lip and gently sucking on the tender curve. That’s all it takes for need to flood my system, hot and demanding. It’s always like this between us—the slightest spark sets off a wildfire that consumes every thought that isn’t related to how many ways I can make her moan. We’ll have a lifetime of these moments ahead of us, when I can strip her down to her skin and worship every curve and hollow of her body, but this isn’t one of them, not when she’s barely been awake for five minutes. I draw back, slowly releasing her mouth. “I’ll make it up to you,” I promise, holding her delicate hands between my rough ones. “I’m not saying we won’t fight or you won’t want to throw those daggers at me when I’m inevitably an ass, but I swear I will always strive to do better.”
“Make what up to me?” She pulls away with an inquisitive smile.
I blink as my brow furrows. Has she lost her memories? “How much do you remember? By the time we got you here, the poison spread to your brain and—”
Her eyes flare, and something shifts, something that sinks my stomach like a rock as she tugs her hands from mine.
She glances away, and her eyes glaze in that way that tells me she’s checking in with her dragons.
“Don’t panic. Everything is fine. Andarna isn’t quite the same, but she’s…her.” She’s fucking huge now, but I’m not about to say that to Violet. Her gift is also gone, according to Tairn, but there’s plenty of time to share that news. Instead, I say, “The healer told me he isn’t sure what lasting effects the poison might have, because it was something he’s never seen, and no one really knows how long it will take to get your memories back if there’s any lasting damage, but I’ll tell you—”
She throws up her hand and looks around the room, as if noticing where we are for the first time, then scrambles backward out of bed, pulling her robe closed. The look in her eyes puts a vise around my chest as she stumbles to the large windows that line my bedchamber.
The windows that look out over the mountain this fortress is built upon down to the valley below and its line of charred trees marking where the earth was scorched all the way to stone and the quiet town—which used to be a city—of Aretia beneath us.
The town we’ve worked our asses off to rebuild from a pile of cinder and ruins.
“Violet?” I keep my shields up, trying to respect her privacy as I walk to her side, but gods, I need to know what she’s thinking.
Her eyes widen as her gaze sweeps over the town, each structure with its identical green roofs, then pauses on the Temple of Amari, which was the most noted landmark besides our library.
“Where are we? And don’t you dare lie to me,” she says. “Not again.”
Not again. “You remember.”
“I remember.”
“Thank gods,” I murmur, shoving my hand into my hair. It’s a good thing, proving that she’s truly healed, but…fuck.
“Where. Are. We?” She bites out every word, her eyes narrowing on me. “Say it.”
“The way you’re looking at me says you already know.” There’s no way this brilliant woman doesn’t recognize that temple.
“This looks like Aretia.” She gestures to the window. “There’s only one temple with those particular columns. I’ve seen the drawings.”
“Yes.” Brilliant. Fucking. Woman.
“Aretia was burned to the ground. I’ve seen those drawings, too, the ones the scribes brought back for the public notices. My mother told me she saw the embers with her own eyes, so where are we?” Her voice rises.
“Aretia.” It feels incredibly freeing to tell her the truth.
“Rebuilt or never burned?” She turns her back on me.
“In the process of rebuilding.”
“Why haven’t I read about this?”
I start to tell her, but she holds up a hand and I wait. It only takes her a minute to work it out, too.
She points to my rebellion relic and says, “Melgren can’t see the outcome when more than three of you are together. That’s why you’re not allowed to assemble.”
I can’t help it. I smile. This brilliant fucking woman is mine. Or was mine. Will be mine again if I have anything to say about it. Which I probably don’t. I sigh, losing the smile immediately. Fuck.
No, I’m not giving up until she tells me to.
Things might be complicated, but so are both of us.
“That and we’re not big enough to warrant the attention of the scribes anymore. We’re not hidden. We’re just not…advertising our existence.” Which is also the reason this place is still technically…mine. Nobles weren’t exactly eager to throw their money at a scorched city or be taxed on unusable land. Eventually they’ll notice. Eventually I’ll lose it. Then I’ll lose my head. “You can know whatever you want. Just ask.”
She stiffens. “Tell me one thing right now.”
“Anything.”
“Is…” Her shoulders stutter as she inhales. “Is Liam really dead?”
Liam. A fresh stab of sorrow pierces my ribs. Heartbeats pass in silence as I try to find the right words, but there aren’t any, so I take from my pocket the palm-size, freshly finished carving of Andarna Liam had been working on.
She turns in my direction, her gaze immediately locking on the figurine, and her eyes water. “It’s my fault.”
