Where was he?
Her heart clenched. Across the crowds of passing women with baskets on their hips, children racing after balls, men pulling horses and carts, and palace guards patrolling the street—everything went serenely still.
At the end of the road, Nikator stood, his chest heaving, his gaze locked on hers. Time slowed and they both stared at one another from across the sea of people. She took in everything about his appearance like it would be the last time. His long blood-red hair pulled back messily, the shadows rimming his blazing eyes, the black armor hugging his muscular frame.
And then she ran at the same time he did. They wove through the crowd until their bodies crashed into one another. Biyu’s hands scrambled over his broad chest, a sob of relief ripping through her as she embraced him.
He was alive.
He was alive.
He was alive!
Biyu’s grip on him tightened and she wept against his chest. “Tell me you’re real—please, please, tell me this is real.”
“It’s real,” he murmured into her ear, and hoisted her off her feet.
A sob of relief left her throat; she hugged him tighter than possible, and then with the desperation yanking on all the broken shards of her heart to repair itself, she grasped his face in hers. Her fingers skimmed over his warm cheeks, and she kissed him for everything she had thought she had lost. He kissed her back just as passionately. He tasted like rain in the forest, like vanilla and spice, like the feeling of losing yourself in immense joy. Like …home.
And as he pulled back, his eyes crinkling as he grinned down at her, she realized that he was everything she had ever wanted. Everything she ever needed.
44
The last timeBiyu had been in Nikator’s bedchambers, he had announced to her that he would be her bodyguard. As he led her inside now, her gaze traveled to the couch they had sat on, remembering how they had argued back and forth, how she had eaten with him; it was strange to see how far they had come. From loathing—perhaps that was too strong of a word for the mutual attraction and frustration they’d felt for one another even back then—to love.
Nikator frowned at her as he shut the door behind her. His red eyebrow rose. “Did you truly have no other option than to run outside barefoot?”
Maybe there was still room for argument.
Biyu crossed her arms over her chest. “I might have gotten a bit too excited.”
“Evidently,” he said dryly, while gently leading her to the couch.
She winced every time her foot touched the hard floor. After they had kissed and she had wept over him, it had taken about a minute or two of sniffling to realize that her feet had been cut rather badly in her pursuit of him. He had carried her all the wayback here, much to her embarrassment at all the people who had stared. She had hidden her face on his shoulder the entire time.
Biyu eased onto the couch while Nikator pushed through the beaded curtains sectioning off the other chambers of the room. He returned with a small kit and crouched down in front of her. He took her foot gently in one hand, his blue eyes snapping up at her.
“You should have been more careful.” He pinched something and pulled out a shard of glass quickly, then applied pressure so she wouldn’t feel the sting as badly. “Biyu, your feet are all fucked up.” Concern made his tone come out rough.
“Why thank you.” She rolled her eyes. “This was such a touching reunion. I run to you with no regard for my wellbeing, and instead of feeling grateful, you chastise me.”
A grin twisted his mouth as he worked on her feet. His hands were soothing, and despite the head shakes and tongue clicks, she could feel his relief through their bond, the joy that sprang in his chest to be with her. He wasn’t hiding it like he normally did. He bared himself to her. She basked in those rare emotions; she was relieved to find that her own feelings mimicked his.
“What you did a few days ago was irrational.”
Biyu grimaced. She knew he would be angry at her for her brazen actions, and yet it had all somehow worked out in the end. “Nikator?—”
“Why would you try to give your life up for me? I want you to live, Biyu. I want you to find happiness, to make a life, to … I don’t know, bemore.”
“I can’t have any of that without you.”
“You should have talked to me?—”
“You were adamant in believing that I would never be happy with you, that I was only with you and in love with you because I had no choice, and that I clung to you because nobody else gave me any attention.” She pinned him with a stern look. “You didn’twant to believe me, and you didn’t give me the option of staying with you. You took my choice away, Nik.”
He winced at the words. “I’m sorry. I … I was doing what I thought was best.”
“You should let me make decisions for myself,” she said, softer this time. She touched his cheek, and his sapphire eyes met hers. “You left me with no choice than to confront Muyang and I’m happy it worked out for us, Nikator, because I think that’s the only way you would have believed me when I told you—when I tell you—that I love you.”
