I didn’t go to my room. I drifted down the hallway, wondering how I could figure out which room Galen was in without bursting in, or knocking, or somehow making myself known. I walked the long hallway twice when a door opened.
Spinning around, I spotted one of the soldiers. He stopped when he saw me, and I froze. Blushing and feeling utterly foolish, I went back to my own room, shaking my head as I shut the door.
“Oh.”
I knew his voice even from such a soft syllable, and I looked up to see Galen standing by the window.
“Galen,” I said.
“I was just making sure no one can get up here,” he said. “The windows seem sturdy, and I’m fairly certain that the pitch of the lower roof would take a while to climb. However, if we get ambushed, we might be able to make use of it for escape. But still, I’ll have a guard outside, just to make sure.” He was flushing, the red bright on his skin from his flimsy excuse, and he nodded once before starting to move toward the door.
“I was trying to find you,” I said.
He halted, his eyes wide, watching me. “You were.”
He was closer now, and I could see the redness near his eye where Rian had punched him. I touched it gingerly, and he smiled, a tiny, wry thing. “That doesn’t hurt?” I asked.
His eyes swept over my face. “I can’t really feel pain when you’re touching me like that.” The smile widened. “Or when you’re touching me at all.” Then he saw my wrist, and the white lines that remained from where Kata healed the wounds left by the manacles. He caught my hand in both of his, brushing his fingers over the scar.
His breathing was heavy and erratic as he touched me, not speaking. “Galen?” I whispered.
“He tortured you. He was supposed to love you, and he tortured you.”
“No,” I murmured. “Not in the way you think.”
This drew his stark gaze to mine, and there was so much fear there. Fear for me. “Shalia, he knew how to torture you in a way that was far more effective. Just because he didn’t strike you doesn’t mean it wasn’t torture.”
I couldn’t deny how true that felt. “Iona lost her eye. Because of me. Because I couldn’t do it. I wanted to, but I just couldn’t.”
“Shalia,” he said again.
“And another girl died. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen. He was right,” I told him, faster, trying to get it all out in a rush. “I was still able to use my power. I guess I just didn’t—didn’t care enough for them.”
He stepped closer to me, and I nudged my forehead against his, closing my eyes and sinking into his touch. “No,” he said, and his chest rumbled with the sound. “That’s not your fault. Nothing he did was your fault.”
“I should have saved them, Galen. If only I could have controlled my power.” I shook my head hard, bringing my hands up to curl my fingers in his shirt.
He brushed kisses on my temple. “You said your power comes from your heart, didn’t you?” he whispered.
I nodded.
“You can’t control your heart. You can only trust it.” He took one hand, and brought it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “Like I trust you with mine.”
He looked at me, slowly, for a long time. His eyes traced over every part of my face, and a slow smile came over his mouth. “I love you, Shalia d’Dragyn. Your heart is my heart.” He took the hand he was holding and put it on his chest, like I could feel his heart there. He drew a long breath under my hand. “And I know right now, the only thing you can think of is surviving, and grieving, and being free of my brother. But when that happens, I will be there. I will keep you and your baby safe for the rest of your days.”
My fingers eased on his chest, straightening and smoothing over his shirt, and I wondered if it were that easy, to take something and hold it. “I don’t want that.”
He looked like I had struck him, and my fingers wandered, finding the pulse at the base of his neck. This seemed more tangible, a brighter piece of his heart for me to hold.
“I went from being a sister and a daughter to a wife, a guarded queen. I have little idea what my life will be like if I’m free from Calix, but I don’t want to be something you protect. I won’t teach my daughter that her only choice is to be sheltered by the men around her. I want to stand beside you,” I told him, running my fingers lightly over his chest. “I want to learn to fight with you. I won’t accept you as a protector,” I whispered. His eyes were wet, shining and bright green because of it. “But I will accept you as something else. Something far greater. Because with whatever scraps of my heart are left, I love you too, Galen.”
My breath shuddered as it came out, but I leaned up, staring at his green eyes. I pressed forward, grazing his upper lip, opening my mouth to kiss his bottom lip.
Then he moved, and his mouth opened to meet mine. His tongue stroked into my mouth, and I raised my arms, twining them around his neck, our bodies sliding together. His hands ran down my sides, making my skin feel hot and alive everywhere he touched.
With relief so sharp it felt like pain, the threads strained against my fingertips, and I stepped back from his arms, holding up my hands.
“Your power?” he asked.
I gazed at him, his hair spiky and dark and slightly disheveled, his chest rising and falling hard. I nodded, and stepped back into his arms, pressing my mouth to the cords in his neck. His pulse hammered under my lips.
“Shalia,” he said, catching my shoulders. “I shouldn’t do this. I can’t do this. You just lost your family, you almost lost your child—”
“You’re not doing anything,” I told him. “We’re doing something. And after all the pain of the past few weeks, I want to know what this is really supposed to feel like. What it is to be touched by someone who moves the heaven and stars for you. Please give that to me, Galen.”
His thumb touched my lip, and his eyes followed, like he couldn’t look away. “It won’t fix anything. It won’t change anything he did.”
“No,” I told him. “It won’t be about him at all.” I kissed the pad of his thumb on my lip. “It will be different, with you, won’t it?” I asked him, my voice quiet and small.
“I’ve never been so damn scared to touch a woman in my life,” he whispered, his fingertips on my shoulder, barely grazing my skin. “So I’m fairly sure it’s different for me.”
My shoulders drew up. “I meant … with you, when you touch me, I feel things that I’ve never felt.”
His fingers brushed my hair back, letting it slide over the skin of my shoulders, and following it with his fingertips. “I like the sound of that,” he whispered.
His touch made me dizzy, but my thoughts sobered me. “Every time with him, it was awful,” I breathed.