I took his proffered hand and sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t want to live in the past, Lorcan. I don’t know how to move forward, but there is one thing I know for certain: I do not want to remember the past year any more than absolutely necessary.”
“Neither do I.” We looked at one another. Lorcan reached out and brushed his thumb over my cheek. “Sorry does not touch the surface. I wish I had better words, Princess. I promise you will never have to go through anything like that again.”
“I’d have done it anyway.” I sniffled. Still not a crier. Yet, I, too, have lost the ability to hide my emotions. Perhaps that’s for the best. There is one more truth I need to tell him, an apology of sorts, for bludgeoning him with it earlier. “Knowing what I do now about how things would play out, I would do everything the same if it meant saving your life.”
I meant it to be kind, but Lorcan’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Deserve it or not, I love you and it was worth it to have you in this world with me. Even if you might not always thank me for it.” I kissed his forehead. “Happy birthday, Lorcan. I’m sorry I ruined it. Thank you for being truthful with me. Truth is a rare and valuable commodity for a queen-to-be.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. I did. Long before today.” He pulled me down, into his arms, rolling us onto the mattress and tugging the blankets up. I breathed into the crook of his neck. Traced the dip and rise at the base of his throat with my fingertips.
Goddesses, I’m going to miss him so much when we part for good this fall. For now, I have this. It will have to be enough.
Unless…
I’ll think about that later.
* * *
“Cute jacket, Arya,” I tugged on her sleeve. “Why aren’t you wearing a dress?”
I wore my white one with embroidery at the hem, and the blue underskirt peeking out the bottom.
“Some of the girls said we’d go as boys so there’s enough dancing partners.”
She gestured vaguely to the open hall lined with wooden tables and benches. Perhaps one-third of the people assembled are men. Most of them are old, like Melcan, helping move furniture out of the way to accommodate the musicians. The rest appeared to be younger than Arya. One young man was missing his leg beneath the knee. A middle-aged man wore an eye patch and limped.
War has not left Tenáho unscathed.
“Where’s the birthday boy?” I asked.
“Hiding.” Arya grinned. “Lorcan hates this kind of thing.”
I found him in the back of the event space where the kitchen is located—where else. Rya baked a massive cake. They were trying to figure out how to transport it into the main room.
“What if we bring a table to the door, put the cake on the table, and carry the table over to the wall?” A large sign read,Happy Birthday—23—Hero of Auralia. Lorcan just loves that last part. I’ve been teasing him about it all day.
Things are mostly patched up between us. Again. A bond neither of us can quit, built on a foundation too crumbled to support the weight of more than a fragile friendship. We can’t work as lovers. But I might be able to keep a part of him with me, if I revise my stance on having children.
If I can have children. The next few months with him are my only chance to try.
I could do it. Queens have gone without King Protectors before. A few, anyway. Lorcan could have the freedom he wants, and I’d have a family of my own. A small one. Me and my daughter. But mine to love.
I will never send her into the frozen pool at Mount Astra. If she wants to get an education abroad, I’ll encourage her to fulfill her dreams. If she wants to lead, I’ll step down. I’ll play the role of High Priestess for as long as I must to take that weight from her. I wouldn’t be alone ever again, if it worked.
Having a baby would be a way to carry Lorcan with me once he’s out of my life for good. If I’m capable of it. Between my mother’s infertility and my emaciation, it’s hardly guaranteed.
Saskaya was right that I’m in no position to be raising a baby right now, but in a year or so? With the country hopefully more stable, the castle livable again, my rule as Queen established? Then, it could work.
He can’t know. Maybe he’ll guess. Probably. Almost certainly. Lorcan is capable of counting nine months. The obvious solution would be to take up with another man as soon as we split, at least publicly. But that’s messy and I don’t know where I would find one, anyway. I don’t have the energy for another public deception. This one has been hard enough.
Everything depends upon getting my weight up far enough to be physically capable of bearing a child, and not flipping out the next time I’m intimate with Lorcan. If there is a next time. I’m willing to try, but is he?
The thought of going through the rest of my life as an untouched virgin—ugh, how did it come to this?—isn’t appealing to me, either.
I have plenty of doubts about my plan, but I can’t think of any better solutions.
“Are you ready for this?”
