When Olivia opened her eyes, she lay in her bed in the manor house. Faded sunlight streamed into the window, touching the edges of things inside the room one last time before disappearing for another night. A bright fire crackled in the hearth.
Sebastian slumped in an armchair beside the bed. His head rested against the back of the chair, his eyes closed.
She was quite free from pain, clean and warm, and tucked under blankets. Then she tried to move, and her heart leaped into a rapid, skittish tempo. Her mouth dried out, and her head swam. A saline bag hung from one of the bedposts, the line running to an IV taped to the back of her left hand.
Sebastian’s eyes flared open. He straightened and leaned over her.
She had grown used to the strange black-and-amber pattern in his eyes. He looked so tired, worn and worried. “Don’t try to move around too much,” he said. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“Dendera,” she said.
“I’m sorry.” He stroked her face.
Moisture flooded her eyes. She nodded and turned her face away.
The chair creaked as he shifted. Then the bed tilted as he sat on the edge. He planted his hands flat on the mattress on either side of her head and leaned closer. “Hey,” he said. “Look at me.”
As always, he pulled her to him. She could never turn away from him. She looked up. His hard face looked even more haggard at that angle, the fire throwing strong, flickering bands of light and shadow across the room.
He told her softly, “You know we need to talk, don’t you?”
Her mouth shook. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she just nodded again. Why would he bring that up now, of all times?
He stroked her hair. “In fact,” he said, “I’ve been planning on talking to you for a while. I was just waiting for the right time. And this is not the right time at all, so naturally I want to take full advantage of that.”
She blinked several times. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
He smiled. There was something remarkably patient, clear-eyed and ruthless about him in that moment. “I love you,” he said. “And I believe you love me.”
She whispered, “Yes.”
Gently, gently he bent down and brushed her lips with his. “Then this is what we’re going to do. You’re going to marry me. We’ll winter in Jamaica and live the rest of the year in Louisville. You will work part-time at your job. I will work part-time running my company, and Bailey will take over the rest. We’ll have children—I think two would be nice—and we’ll have plenty of time to take care of them. And we’ll travel sometimes, but mostly we’ll stay at home, and if I go blind, I will find an avian Wyr who will fly with me sometimes—”
“That’s not going to happen,” she interrupted.
“I understand, but if it does…”
“It won’t.”
He cocked his head and looked exasperated. “I am trying to make a point here.”
In spite of everything that had happened and the dizziness that still swam in her mind, she had to smile. “And what point is that?”
“That we can meet every challenge ahead of us if we do it together.”
Her smile turned into a chuckle, while happiness began to take root. “Is that what you were saying underneath all of those orders?”
“They were statements of fact, not orders,” he said. He touched her cheek lightly with the backs of his fingers. “And we’re not really having that talk, not while you’re injured and exhausted. That would be insensitive of me. Besides, it’s too soon. I’m merely making things easy for you by laying everything out ahead of time.”
Her chuckle turned into a helpless ghost of a laugh. “All of that was preparation for the talk we’re going to have someday?”
“Exactly.”