In no more time than it took for her to blink, he spun them both in a circle, his free arm snug at her waist. His touch left her breathless. They waltzed together, there upon the rocky ground, flowing despite the rough terrain. Lyra’s surroundings hazed: the stags, the flashing lights—Vesper’s companions now descending toward them. She recognized Luce’s red hair and Selena’s silvery purplish braid—both smeared in the distance, like paintings left out in the rain.
Still twirling, Vesper pulled her close so his lips raked her ear . “I told you I could dance as well as any man,” he whispered. His warm breath rushed along her lobe, titillating every nerve in her body. His scent had changed—no longer singed with fire or grass, but a muskiness entirely masculine and human.
She threw her head back, soundlessly laughing. His laughter joined hers, and she reveled in the dizzy rush, giddy with relief, happiness, and desire, feeling almost as if she were flying with him at last. Their feet got caught in the lacewing cloak, and Vesper slowed their rotation to untangle them.
His features grew somber. Luce told me all that your aunt stole from you, Princess Lyra.
Lyra gasped. You know . . . who I am?
He nodded. Even before Luce told me, I knew you were more than you seemed. That you belonged beside me. And now I know you’re the princess of the prophecy. My princess.
Lyra pressed a hand to her throat, feeling the loss of her voice anew.
Vesper placed a hand atop hers. Voice or no voice, you were born as Lyra. That will never change. Your royal father’s and mother’s blood flows in your veins.
His assurance warmed the hollow chill where her working vocal cords should’ve been, and hearing him speak her true name to her mind was both a thrill and a comfort.
I know nothing about being royalty, Vesper. They took all those years of learning from me . . .
“I will help you.” His deep voice echoed in the cave, no longer isolated to her head. “And I’ll see that you have your revenge.” A spark ignited behind his eyes—the same fury that had driven Scorch to fiery rampages. “At the end of all of this, those who hurt you will answer to both of us, and will bow to you as their queen. And I promise you also, as you once promised me: I will never take anything from you that you’re not willing to give.”
Her eyes stung on the sentiment. Having had so much stolen away, they were the dearest words he could’ve said aloud. She touched him behind his right ear, a gesture that had once calmed the beast. And for that, I will give you all that I am.
He rested his hand on the nape of her neck, his thumb stroking her in that tender place where he used to nestle his horse’s snout. “Then I will be the most fortunate man alive.” He started to pull her close, but the lacewing cloak still puddled at their feet between them. He nudged the fabric aside, wearing a wistful expression. “I wanted to be there, when you took your first step into the sunlight.”
You were. She smiled. You were my first ray of light in the ravine, all those years ago.
He smiled, shaking his head. “You know, I was too arrogant to tell you then. So I’m telling you now . . . every time I saw you, each day when your face appeared through the trees, or framed by one of those ridiculous empty windowpanes . . . you lit up my whole world. It was I who needed you. That’s always been the case. Make no mistake. I loved the girl with my horse’s heart, and now I’m ready to love her with a man’s.”
The beautiful sentiment curled around Lyra’s body like a wisp of steam from a soothing cup of tea. It was all she’d ever wanted: words spoken in earnest, touches and kisses freely shared, helping one another without expecting anything in return.
She stroked that soft patch of skin between his eyebrows where his flesh had never yielded to the curse. I’ve always said friendship has many rewards. Love is the culmination of them all.
His gaze intensified, and he caught her wrist. With his free hand, he touched her fingertips, then outlined the scars she’d suffered on his behalf and others made in ways she might never recall. Before she knew his intention, he lowered his face to nuzzle her palm, such a different sensation than it had been in the past, his lips trailing the same path his finger had in gentle, warm pulses.
A tingle awoke along her own lips, hungry to kiss him again, with no sunlight or torment to mar the experience.
What do you remember, of the shrine? she asked.
He lifted his head to look into her eyes. This.
Holding her face, he pressed a kiss between her eyebrows. Then he moved to her eyelids and a contented sigh broke deep in his chest as her lashes tickled his chin. She balanced on her tiptoes, fingers woven in the hair at his nape, and led his mouth to hers.
Their lips delicately sealed. His breath tasted of honey and spiced mead. His right hand tilted her chin to fit his, his left descended to her lower back to draw her body against him, leaving no question as to his complete transformation to a man. He kissed her with gentle confidence—a reminder they still had so much to learn about one another, but that they were in this adventure together, as they had been since she could remember. Lyra fell deeper into him, into this intimate newness so fiery-sweet she ached with both the urge to gasp and to never come up for air again.
A hand gripped her shoulder from behind and forced her to catch a breath in surprise.
“Time’s up.” Luce tugged them apart, moving between them until all Lyra could see was the back of the sylph’s red jacket and his illusory wings. “You agreed to the terms.”
Flushed and breathless, Lyra turned Luce to face her. What terms? she signed, still tasting Vesper on her lips.
“He owes me. For all those days I made you practice with the sunlight in your fingertips. For all the flowers I made you grow despite his hoofbeating tantrums about eating into your playtime. I’m practically what saved him. So, to repay me, he’s to honor my place as your guardian for the first time in our acquaintance.”
Lyra peered around a wing tip to catch Vesper’s gaze. He winked at her reassuringly, then gestured to Luce. “He became a spirit and whispered his demands all the way here.” Vesper rubbed his earlobe and cringed. “Nothing like dog slobber to sour a pleasant trot across the countryside.”
Luce suppressed a smug grin. “Better than what a certain donkey used to leave behind on his trots through the ravine. You’re just jealous that I wear the wings now.”
“Can’t refute that.” Vesper’s voice was teasing, but Lyra sensed a hint of longing beneath the surface.
In Lyra’s periphery, Selena and a silver-haired man—one she remembered from the ravine earlier—exchanged bewildered glances and tremulous smiles. How long had they known of their prince’s alternate identity? They looked to be as astonished as she’d first felt upon realizing a Pegasus’s hooves beat within his heart.
Vesper cleared his throat, and Selena and the man stepped forward.
“Lady Lyra of the House of Eyvindur,” Vesper announced in a formal tone, and it made her feel something she’d never felt: regal. “This is my sister, Princess Selena Astraeus, and my first knight, Cyprian Nocturn. They are here to help arrange your passage to the castle.”
Selena curtsied, and Cyprian bowed at the waist.
Luce raised his wing, cutting off Lyra’s visuals of everyone as he turned to her. “First, the ground rules. I agreed the prince could have one dance with you, and a kiss. Now it’s done, and until I hear marriage vows spoken and you are both crowned, you’ll always have a chaperone, either me or Lady Selena. And when I’m the one chaperoning, you’ll speak where I can hear—or see—the conversation. None of those rude silences where you disappear into your own little world together.” He slanted a glare at Vesper. “I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.”
Lyra never thought Luce and Scorch would stand together like comrades. If only Crony were here to witness this momentous occasion. But she’d told Lyra she had something to do in Eldoria, so it would wait until they were reunited.
Lyra’s fingers formed eager questions. We’re going to Nerezeth’s castle now? Everyone knows I’m the princess? It’s over?
Vesper and Luce shared a similar reaction: fists clenched and backs stiffened.
“Both kingdoms think Lustacia is the real you,” Vesper finally answered, his thick eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “They heard her voice, watched the flowers come to life, and then I awoke—cured. Everyone is so preoccupied with magic, prophecies, and fairy tales, they embraced her wholeheartedly as the cause. No one saw you. Even I couldn’t remember all of it. Only your kiss, your touch, and your promise to fight for me.”
Then how did you know it was me kissing and not her? You never saw me.
His eyes widened, as if the question surprised him. “In the ravine, I was driven only by instinct. I learned your lips when they kissed my forelock. I learned your hands when you fed me apples; and I learned your secret voice as it gentled my rage. I’ll never need to see to know it’s you.”
Once again, he’d rendered Lyra off-balance with his words. Vesper returned her silent appraisal, focused solely on her lips—a profound fascination that traced their shape like a touch.