THE NIGHT WE STOPPED WAITING

CHAPTER 46

Nothing needed to be said.

The fire had burned low, Roman's hand was still in mine, and when I leaned toward him this time, neither of us hesitated.

There was no question about what we wanted. No need to pretend we were only drawn together by the bond or that the feelings we'd confessed could be tucked away again when morning came.

For once, we were simply two people choosing each other.

"Mira."

His voice was low against my hair.

"Are you sure?"

I lifted my head.

"Roman."

"I want to hear you say it."

"I'm sure."

"Not because of the bond?"

"The bond has never once asked me anything." I touched his cheek. "I'm asking. I'm the one standing in your room."

"You are."

A faint, crooked smile appeared on his face.

"I'm trying to be very careful."

"I noticed. Stop being careful."

"That's an order?"

"It's a request."

"From my..." He paused, searching for the word, then abandoned it with a quiet laugh. "From you. I'll honor it."

"Good."

His hand rose to my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone.

"I'm still afraid, you know."

"Of what?"

"That I'll forget how to be happy."

"You've been practicing."

"Badly."

"You're getting better."

"Am I?"

"You said I looked lighter. Nobody says that about someone who's forgotten how to be happy."

He laughed, soft and startled.

"I suppose that's true."

"What would happen if you let yourself be happy?"

He considered that.

"Want you?"

"Want anything."

His eyes held mine.

"I'd have to stop apologizing for it. I've treated wanting as something I needed to earn forgiveness for."

"You don't."

"I'm learning."

"Then learn tonight."

He kissed me.

It was nothing like the kiss we'd shared in the garden. That one had carried the weight of his grief, the fear of what we were becoming, and the uncertainty of whether either of us could survive the door we'd opened.

This kiss asked nothing of the past.

It belonged to the present: the warm room, the dying fire, and two people who had finally stopped pretending they didn't want each other.

When we broke apart, my hands had found his collar.

"You're shaking," he murmured.

"I'm nervous."

"Of me?"

"Of this." I laughed breathlessly. "I've spent so long holding part of myself back that I don't know what happens when I stop."

"What do you want to happen?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me anyway."

I drew a slow breath.

"I want to stop bracing for something to go wrong."

His forehead rested against mine.

"Then you don't have to brace against me. I won't promise that nothing will ever go wrong between us. But I'll tell you the truth, and you'll always have a choice. Nothing happens unless you want it."

"What do you want?"

"You."

The answer came without hesitation.

"Not the child. Not the bloodline. Not the council's opinion of either. You, standing in my room and arguing with me."

"I'm not arguing."

"You were about to."

"I was."

"See?"

I laughed, and his thumb brushed my cheek.

"I'm sure of you," he said. "That's different from being sure of everything that comes next."

I closed my eyes.

Something that had been clenched inside me for months finally began to loosen.

"Roman."

"Yes?"

"Stay close."

"I'm not going anywhere."

The rest of that night belonged to us, and I'll keep most of it.

There were whispered questions and honest answers. A laugh when I fumbled a clasp and he swore under his breath at a stubborn button. His hand steadying mine. The sound of my name spoken as though it were something precious he'd once been afraid to hold.

Nothing was hurried. Nothing was taken for granted.

When I hesitated, he stopped and waited. When I reached for him, he came closer.

I'd once thought being wanted would feel like being claimed.

It felt like being seen.

Much later, with his arm around me and the room quiet around us, Roman brushed his lips against my shoulder.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm..."

I searched for the right word.

"Yes."

He lifted his head slightly.

"You're crying."

"It's good crying."

"Is there such a thing?"

"Apparently."

He pressed a kiss to my temple.

"Tell me."

I swallowed.

"I was waiting for something to go wrong."

"Did it?"

"No."

"I'd like to keep it that way."

"Me too."

The fire had dwindled to embers, leaving the room amber and soft. I rested against his chest, tracing a scar along his ribs that I hadn't noticed before.

"What's this one from?" I asked.

"North border. Eight years ago."

"It's ugly."

"It's honest."

I glanced up at him.

"Everything about you is honest. It's terrifying."

"You get used to it."

"I'm trying."

He laughed, and I felt the sound beneath my palm.

For a while, we listened to the quiet.

Then I spoke.

"I spent months bracing for disappointment, even when I wanted to believe you."

"I know."

"You helped teach me that."

He didn't defend himself.

"I did," he admitted. "Part of it, anyway. I can't undo that."

"I know."

"But I can show you, every day, that you matter. Not by telling you what to do or deciding what you can handle. By being someone you can trust."

I lifted my head.

"That's all I'm asking."

"It's a lot."

"Not for you."

He looked at me for a long moment.

"No," he said quietly. "Not anymore."

I kissed him, slowly, without any need to prove what we'd already told each other.

Then a strange warmth moved through me.

I went still.

It wasn't the heat of the room or the lingering flush of his kiss. It came from somewhere deeper, a gentle pulse beneath my skin, like a second heartbeat finding the first.

The sensation spread from my chest through my arms until my fingertips tingled.

Roman's expression changed.

"Did you feel that?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

I pressed a hand against my chest.

"It's warm."

"Does it hurt?"

"No." I studied his face. "Does it hurt you?"

He shook his head.

"No. I feel it too."

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then he drew a slow breath.

"It came from the bond."

"Is it supposed to do that?"

"I don't know."

His brows drew together as though he were trying to recall something buried in the back of his mind.

"I've never felt anything like it. Not with..."

He stopped.

I didn't make him finish the sentence.

We both knew what he had almost said. Whatever his bond with Lyra had been, he didn't need to compare it with what we were experiencing now.

"Do you think it's settling?" I asked. "Because we've stopped fighting what we feel?"

"Maybe."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I think so."

He covered my hand with his.

"It doesn't feel dangerous. It feels like..." He searched for the words. "Like something deciding to stay."

"That's a strange way to describe it."

"It's the only way I can."

The warmth lingered for another few seconds before slowly fading, like a tide withdrawing from the shore.

When it disappeared, the room seemed unusually quiet.

I stared at our joined hands.

"We should tell Sable."

"Tomorrow."

"You're certain?"

"Tonight, I want to stay here with you. Tomorrow, we'll tell her exactly what happened and find out whether she knows anything about it."

I considered arguing, but the truth was that I didn't want to leave the warmth of his arms either.

"That's a good policy."

"I thought so."

I settled against his shoulder, my eyelids growing heavy.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this tired in a good way.

"You should sleep," Roman murmured.

"I should."

"Do you want to?"

"I can't remember the last time I felt this peaceful."

"Then don't fight it."

"I'm not sure I know how to stop."

"Try."

I shifted closer.

"Stay?"

"I'll be here."

"Promise?"

He brushed his lips against my forehead.

"I'm not asking you to trust the entire future tonight, Mira. Just trust the next few hours."

I looked at him.

That was a promise he could actually keep.

"I can do that."

"Then close your eyes."

I did.

I didn't count the exits or listen for footsteps in the corridor. I didn't wonder how long the peace would last or what I would do when it ended.

For the first time since arriving at Blackthorn, the part of me that always kept watch finally lay down.

And I slept.

I woke before dawn.

The window had turned the color of pale ink, and the fire had burned down to ash. Beside me, Roman lay on his side, one arm still curled around my waist.

He was awake.

He was looking at me with an expression I'd never seen before. Quiet. Almost disbelieving, like a man who had woken from a long dream and discovered it hadn't ended.

"How long have you been awake?" I whispered.

"A while."

"Doing what?"

"Looking."

"At what?"

"You."

His mouth curved.

"I wanted to be sure you were real."

"I'm real."

"I can see that."

He brushed a strand of hair from my forehead.

"I kept waiting for it to stop. I thought I'd wake up and find I'd imagined everything."

"And?"

"You're still here."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm learning to believe that."

I smiled, but my eyes stung.

Thin gold light had begun to touch the windowsill. The world outside was waking, and soon the house would fill with footsteps, reports, and the questions we hadn't yet answered.

For now, there was only this.

"Good morning," Roman said softly.

For the first time, the words didn't feel like the beginning of another day of pretending.

They felt like the beginning of a life.

Then I remembered the strange warmth that had passed through us during the night.

"Roman?"

"Hmm?"

"That feeling in the bond. What if it wasn't just because we finally stopped fighting it?"

His expression grew thoughtful.

"I don't know."

"We should tell Sable as soon as she can see us."

"We will."

He took my hand and pressed it against his chest.

"But whatever it means, we won't ignore it."

I searched his face, looking for the familiar instinct to take control, to decide what was best before anyone else could be hurt.

It wasn't gone entirely.

But he was trying.

And so was I.

Outside, the first birds began to sing.

I leaned closer and kissed him once, softly, before resting my forehead against his.

Last night, we'd stopped waiting for permission to love each other.

This morning, we had a new question neither of us could answer.

And somewhere beyond the walls of Blackthorn, the truth about my bloodline was still waiting to be found.