I managed a small laugh. “I don’t need your little magic book. It’s just been too quiet. Ezra hasn’t made a move. It’s been a month since the Fates, and nothing. Not even a whisper.”
“And that bothers you.”
“Doesn’t it bother you? He’s planning something. I can feel it.”
Thorne nodded, not dismissing my concerns, not telling me I was being paranoid. Simply listening, understanding. “He is. But so are we.”
“Are we, though? Because it feels like we’re… waiting.”
His thumb brushed across my cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear before he pulled me close. “A month is a breath to someone as old as we are. Strategic patience isn’t the same as waiting.”
“Sounds suspiciously like something Minerva would say.”
“She’s rubbing off on me. Old gods, new tricks.”
“I can’t lose anyone else.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “I’ll do whatever?—”
“Thorne—”
“It’s not a bargain. I’m not binding myself to sacrifice anything. I’m simply promising my love. I’ve existed for eons, Paesha. I’ve seen empires rise and fall. I’ve watched stars burn out and new ones ignite. But nothing—nothing—has ever been as constant, as certain, as my love for you.”
Without warning, he pulled me flush against him, his mouth claiming mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. I melted into him, my fingers gripping his hair as he backed me against the balcony railing.
The kiss deepened, grew desperate, a silent conversation about fear and love and all the tangled emotions between. His hands skimmed down my sides, settling at my waist, lifting me until I was seated on the railing, his arms a solid wall between me and a terrible fall. Not that I was afraid, not with him holding me like this, like I was the only thing that mattered.
When we finally broke apart, both breathless, I kept my eyes closed for a moment, savoring the lingering taste of him on my lips.
“Marry me,” he whispered against my mouth. “Again. For real this time.”
My eyes flew open. “What?”
He didn’t back down, didn’t laugh it off as a joke. Instead, he held my gaze with unwavering certainty. “Marry me. Not for politics, not for power. For us.”
“The queen can’t —”
“I’m not asking the queen, who likely could marry Lord Thorne Noctus. I’m asking Paesha, the woman who fought for her life in the Maw. The dancer who stole my heart. The mother. The friend. The warrior. The only soul who has ever matched mine across countless lifetimes.”
I stared at him. It could be this easy. It could. It felt impossible with the weight of everything else, but it wasn’t. Not this. Not him. I shoved myself off the balcony, pushing intohis arms. “I’ll marry you, Reverius Hawthorne Noctus. Mostly because I know you’ll pout if I say no, and no one needs that.”
“You’re not wrong.” He kissed me again, slower this time, a seal on a vow. But before I could promise him anything, I needed an answer to a burning question that had haunted me for far too long.
“Can I ask you something?” My fingers traced the line of his collarbone, a nervous gesture disguised as intimacy.
“Anything.”
“If Ezra is your twin, your equal… Could he kill you? Gods can die at the hands of their descendants, their blood. But what about you two?”
Thorne went still, his expression carefully neutral, but I felt the subtle tension in his body. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I need to know what we’re facing. What he’s capable of. What the threat truly is.”
He sighed, stepping back enough to meet my eyes properly. “Yes and no. My brother and I are an equal match, power for power. When mine wanes, his does too. The imbalance affects us both equally.”
