Chapter 78

Chapter 78: Chapter 78

The water rippled around them, cold and dark and utterly silent. The moon hung overhead, full and silver, casting its pale light across the lake like a blessing. Soren’s forehead was still pressed against Nyra’s, their breath mingling in the small space between them, their hearts hammering in tandem.

"I love you," he whispered again, as if saying it enough times might somehow make up for all the times he hadn’t. "I love you so much, Nyra. I’ll never lie to you again. I swear it on my life. On my wolf. On everything I am."

"I love you too," she whispered back, her voice still thick with tears but steadier now. "Even though you’re a jerk. Even though you broke my heart. Even though I should probably push you back into this lake and leave you here to freeze."

"Probably," he agreed. "But you won’t."

"How do you know?"

"Because you’re still here. In my arms. Kissing me back." His thumb traced the line of her jaw, feather-light. "Because you love me, even when I don’t deserve it."

"You really don’t deserve it."

"I know." He kissed her forehead. "But I’m going to earn it. Every day. For the rest of my life."

She looked up at him, the sharp planes of his face softened by moonlight, the dark eyes that had once been so cold now burning with warmth, the lips that had just been pressed against hers. He was still soaking wet, his white shirt transparent and clinging to every muscle of his chest and abdomen. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead. He looked nothing like the terrifying Sword Sovereign she had met months ago. He looked like a man who had been broken and was only now beginning to mend.

"You’re shivering," he said. "We should get out of the water."

"I’m fine."

"You’re not fine. Your lips are turning blue." He scooped her up before she could protest, lifting her out of the water with effortless strength. She wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively, her wet clothes dripping onto his as he carried her to the shore. Her lantern still flickered on the wooden fence, casting dancing shadows across the grass.

"My cloak," she said. "My boots."

"I’ll come back for them." He didn’t stop walking. "Right now, I need to get you warm."

"My dorm is the other way."

"I’m not taking you to your dorm." His voice was low, rough with something that wasn’t just concern. "Not tonight. Not after everything. I’m taking you to my suite, and I’m going to hold you, and if you want to leave, I’ll walk you back myself. But I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight. I can’t."

Nyra didn’t argue. She didn’t want to argue. The anger and hurt that had consumed her for days had drained away, leaving behind something raw and tender and fragile. She was tired of fighting. Tired of pretending she didn’t need him. Tired of pushing away the one person who made her feel whole.

"Okay," she whispered.

Soren carried her through the dark corridors, his footsteps silent on the cold stone. The academy was asleep, the torches burned low, and no one saw the Sword Sovereign carrying the silver-haired prince through the shadows like a man carrying his most precious treasure.

His suite was warm and dark, the embers of last night’s fire still glowing faintly in the hearth. He set her down gently on the edge of his bed and knelt before her, his dark eyes searching her face.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "About this? About us? Because if you’re not—if you need more time—"

She silenced him with a kiss.

It was softer than the ones in the lake—less desperate, less frantic. A kiss of reassurance. Of forgiveness. Of coming home.

"I’m sure," she said against his lips. "I’ve been sure since the moment you called me a weakling by the lake."

"I didn’t call you a weakling."

"You did. You said I looked ugly when I cried."

"I was deflecting."

"You were being an idiot."

"Also true." He kissed her again. "But I’m your idiot now. If you’ll still have me."

"I’ll still have you." She pulled back just enough to look at him, her silver eyes serious. "But no more secrets, Soren. No more lies. If there’s anything else—anything at all—you tell me. Tonight. Now. Because I can’t go through this again."

"There is one more thing." He took a deep breath. "My father—the King—he’s not just coming to watch the showcase. He’s coming to see me. To assess me. To make sure I’m still the heir he trained me to be. And if he finds out about us—about the bond, about you—"

"He’ll try to separate us."

"He’ll try to destroy you." Soren’s voice was hard. "But I won’t let him. I swear it. Whatever happens at the showcase, whatever my father says or does, I choose you. Every time. No matter the cost."

Nyra looked at him for a long moment. Then she reached up and touched his cheek. "Then we face him together. Whatever comes."

"Together," he agreed.

He stood and began to peel off his wet shirt, the fabric clinging to his skin before finally giving way. The firelight flickered across the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of old scars, the intricate lines of his Lycan tattoo that rippled across his shoulder and down his arm. Nyra watched him, her breath catching in her throat.

"You’re staring," he said.

"You’re beautiful."

"I’m scarred."

"Scars are beautiful. They mean you survived."

He knelt before her again and reached for the hem of her wet nightshirt. "May I?"

She nodded.

He lifted the fabric slowly, reverently, his knuckles brushing against her skin. The shirt came off, and then the chest binding beneath it—unwound carefully, gently, as if she were something precious and fragile. When she was bare before him, he didn’t move. He just looked at her, his dark eyes tracing the curves of her body with an intensity that made her shiver.

"You’re the beautiful one," he murmured. "The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen."

"You’ve seen me before."

"I’ll never get tired of seeing you. Never."

He kissed her collarbone. Her shoulder. The hollow of her throat. Each kiss was a whisper, a promise, a prayer. His hands slid up her sides, warm and rough and gentle all at once, and she arched into his touch, her fingers tangling in his wet hair.

"Soren," she breathed.

"I’m here. I’m right here."

He laid her back on the bed, his body covering hers, his weight a comfort rather than a burden. Their remaining clothes were shed slowly, deliberately, each piece removed with care and kissed away. There was no rush tonight. No desperation. No fear of being caught or interrupted. Just the two of them, alone in the darkness, with nothing but the firelight and the moonlight and the steady beat of their hearts.

He touched her like she was sacred. His hands mapped her body with the reverence of a pilgrim visiting a holy site, the curve of her hip, the softness of her belly, the swell of her breasts. His lips followed his hands, pressing kisses to every inch of skin, and she gasped and trembled beneath him, her fingers gripping his shoulders.

"I love you," he murmured against her skin. "I love you, Nyra. I love you."

"I love you too," she breathed. "I love you, Soren. I never stopped."

"Neither did I. I couldn’t. Even when I tried."

"Don’t try anymore."

"Never again."

When he finally joined their bodies, it was with the slow, deliberate tenderness of a man who understood what he had almost lost. He moved above her with exquisite care, his dark eyes never leaving her face, his whispered words a constant litany of love and devotion. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper, and he groaned against her throat, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before he found it again.

"Stay with me," he breathed. "Just like this. Don’t let go."

"I’m here," she promised. "I’m not going anywhere."

The fire burned low in the hearth. The moon traced silver patterns across the stone floor. And in the Sword Sovereign’s bed, two broken hearts slowly began to mend.

When it was over, they lay tangled together in the silk sheets, their bodies slick with sweat, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Nyra’s head rested on Soren’s chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin, tracing the lines of his tattoo. His arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her close, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

"I was so afraid I’d lost you," he murmured into her hair. "When you walked away in the training hall. When you slapped me in the garden. When you wouldn’t even look at me. I thought—" His voice cracked. "I thought I’d destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me."

"You almost did."

"I know." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "But you gave me another chance. I don’t deserve it, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life being worthy of it."

"You’d better." She tilted her head up to look at him. "Because if you ever keep a secret like that from me again, I won’t just slap you. I’ll have Luna chase you around the training grounds."

"Luna would enjoy that."

"She would. She’s been very angry with Kael."

"Kael has been very angry with me." Soren almost smiled. "He’s been lecturing me non-stop since the garden. Telling me I’m a fool. Telling me I should have told you weeks ago. Telling me—" He paused. "Telling me to get down on my knees and beg if that’s what it took."

"Did you beg?"

"I would have. I was about to. You just kissed me before I could."

"Good. I prefer kissing to begging."

"I prefer kissing you to anything else in the world."

She smiled and settled back against his chest. The silence that followed was comfortable, companionable, the kind of silence that only existed between two people who had weathered a storm and come out the other side.

"Soren?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you for coming to the lake tonight. For not giving up on me. For..." She trailed off, searching for the right words. "For fighting for us."

"I’ll always fight for us. Always." He tilted her chin up and kissed her softly. "You’re my mate, Nyra. My partner. My equal. And I’m never letting you go again."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She closed her eyes and let herself drift, wrapped in the warmth of his arms and the steady beat of his heart. Tomorrow there would be challenges. Tomorrow there would be Selene and the showcase and the King and all the thousand complications that came with loving the crown prince. But tonight—tonight there was only this. Only them. Only the quiet, fragile, beautiful thing they had almost lost and found again.

"I love you," she murmured, already half-asleep.

"I love you too, little moon." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up."

She slept.

And Soren held her through the night, watching the moon trace its path across the sky, and wondered how he had ever gotten lucky enough to be loved by someone so fierce and brave and utterly magnificent.

Don’t mess it up this time, Kael said, his voice gruff but warm.

I won’t.

Good. Because if you do, I’ll help Luna chase you around the training grounds.

Noted.

Soren smiled in the darkness and held his mate a little tighter.