My heart thumped wildly in my chest at the thought as the deep reality of what had happened hit me. Queen. The thought was like ice and adrenaline, the combination sending my heart into palpitations so fast that I was sure Ilyan would notice.
I stared at him through the mirror, the light in his eyes calming me as the love I felt for him flared.
I had bound myself to Ilyan, and I would do it again because I loved him. I had not bound myself to his title, however, his title was an integral part of him, and I loved that side of him as much as I loved the side that he only showed to me. I would take this on me because it was worth it, because he was worth it. Because I loved him.
“Where is yours?” I asked, my voice shaking as the last of my anxiety left me. “Your délka vedení královskéh,” I said, knowing I messed up the pronunciation somehow.
Ilyan’s lips twitched through the mirror before he kneeled down behind me, his fingers unwinding the long string from where he had concealed it around his ankle.
He held the mass of golden ribbon out to me as he stood. The ribbon tangled and crinkled in places, making it obvious that he had hidden it there for centuries. I knew at once why; it was the same as when he had cut his hair. He had been hiding something that he wasn’t sure he would ever have. Except he had it now.
I looked at it carefully, my fingers fluttering above the ribbon before I took it in my hand, the length still warm from being against his skin.
I said nothing as I grabbed his hand, my grip light as I led him to the bed, my eyes pleading with him before he sat, his hair growing in anticipation of what I was about to do.
I crawled over the bed to kneel behind him, the golden ribbon held tightly in my hand as I leaned against his back.
Don’t expect anything spectacular, I whispered to him, my voice soft within his mind.
I expect only what you have to give me, he returned. My heart soared at the sound of his voice in my head.
My fingers searched through the nest of gold until I found the end, the frayed edges soft like goose feathers. I pulled at the end until it came free, my chest quivering with nerves as I exhaled, willing my stress away.
Everything in me shook as I ran my fingers through his hair, knowing I would barely be able to manage a simple French braid if I was lucky.
I kept the ribbon tight in his silky hair as I weaved the strands together. The knuckles on my fingers shook as I tried to keep the tension right, knowing I was pulling too hard at times. Without the amazing skill that Ilyan had, my simple braid was done quickly, my fingers wrapping the golden length around his hair from the base of his neck, surrounding the braid as I tightened the string, praying that it would be enough to keep it in place.
I knew it wasn’t as good as it could have been; my shaking fingers had made it a little bit off center, but it was done. Sloppiness and all, it was probably the most treasured thing I had ever done.
I ran my fingers down the braid I had given him, my lips pressing against his lavender-scented hair as I sealed my gift to him. He reached back as my hand grazed over the skin of his neck, capturing my hand in his as he brought it to his lips.
“Thank you, my forever, for giving me this gift.”
I stared into his eyes, unsure how to answer; his breath was soft and warm as it ran over my hand. He kept it there, holding me in place as his thoughts and worries floated over me, his mind full of the image from the sight—the way he held my limp body, the way he howled to the sky. I flinched as the image burned into my mind, my heart tightening uncomfortably with the pressure.
“It will be all right, my love,” Ilyan whispered, his hand finally releasing mine from his grasp.
He opened his mouth to say something more when a loud, frantic knock sounded on the door, the surprising sound sending my heart into matching frantic palpitations that Ilyan’s magic soothed at once.
We both had stiffened at the sound, Ilyan’s eyes closing as mine lifted to the heavy door, another knock coming soon after the first.
“My Lord,” Sain’s voice came through the wood, causing my shoulders to knit together. “We are in need of your assistance.”
I looked away from the door to Ilyan who was now staring at me, his hands wrapping around mine as he pulled me toward him. His fingers traced over the skin of my neck, and I tensed, expecting his fingers to brush over my neck to touch my mark, but they never did. The softness of his fingers skimmed around the edges, careful not to touch it.
“Are you ready?” he asked, but I could only stare at him.
I knew I never would be. How do you walk into what is sure to be certain death? I don’t think there is a way to. Not without tears. Not without fear. I could feel both, but there was a difference. I was stronger than my panic. Stronger than the girl who had been thrown out the window; stronger than the girl who had run from Ryland.