He grinned.
“Anyway,” she continued. “Above all that, the similarities they share are significant.”
“Such as?”
“Honor. Respect for their families, their friends and their country. Even open-mindedness.”
“Good qualities to possess.”
“Yes. And despite all their differences, they become the best of friends. Their families even bond to an extent. But the tensions increase as the regional issues escalate. The war eventually breaks out and they’re pitted against one another—so too are their families. Yet no matter the pressure of their heritages, somehow they find the strength to remain friends amongst the turmoil and against all odds.”
She gave this some thought, then added, “In the long run, they’re devoted to their friendship. Committed in a way that pushes them to help each other through the horror of war—and the disjointed politics that tore apart an entire nation and many families.”
He set his glass aside. “Nearly eight hundred thousand soldiers died and countless civilians.”
“That’s huge,” she said. Not as high in casualties as the demon wars, but still. It was an exorbitant number. Percentage-wise, given the population in the late 1800s, there had to be a close correlation to the death tolls.
“The war didn’t just come about because of varying opinions on slavery,” Darien added, “but also because the North felt it necessary to advocate for the Union—to keep the states intact, as instituted by the Declaration of Independence. Secession by the South was considered treason against the country.”
“In the end,” she reminded him, “relations between the North and South were restored.”
Darien’s finger and thumb curled around the stem of his champagne glass. He’d brought both of them with him, since she didn’t own anything so elegant. He swiveled the crystal flute, then asked, “Are you hinting we should engage in our own Reconstruction Era?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I think an honest evaluation of the state of affairs is in order first. After all, when the initial demon-human war of 2016 broke out, the world was already in a state of unrest, and the economy had suffered horrifically. People suffered,” she amended. “Lisette said the last several years before the war erupted, things were dire with the real estate, financial and job markets. Apparently, there was a lot of despair.”
He leaned forward and gazed at her. “You want common ground across the board?”
“Is that asking so much?”
“Someone has to hold more power.”
“I don’t disagree. But shouldn’t the entity in power hold the entire continent in his best interest?”
Darien scowled.
She pushed a little harder. “What pisses you off more—the fact I challenge you, or that you’ve already considered everything I suggest?”
He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he lifted his fork and simply said, “Eat.”
After dinner, they finished their champagne while snuggling before the fire, something she’d told Michael she’d longed for way back when, at the onset of autumn. That conversation seemed as though it had taken place years ago.
Later, Darien carried her to bed and made love to her.
As they nestled in the sheets and gazed at one another while lying on their sides, facing each other, he said, “I have a gift for you.”
“I got it already.” She’d completely forgotten about the typewriter. “Not sure what I’m supposed to compose on that thing, since I don’t know anyone outside the village to correspond with, but I was instantly fascinated by it. Lisette thinks I should write a book.”
Her hollow laugh seemed to trigger his furrowed brow. “Why not?”
“What would I write about?”
He kissed her and murmured against her lips, “You’ll figure it out.” Then he rolled away.
“You’re not leaving already?” Her tone was a bit on the panicked side, because she’d missed him while he’d been gone. Clearing her throat, she said, “I mean, you just retu
rned tonight. And you haven’t even told me about your scouting trip with Morgan.”
“Give me a moment.” He walked out of the room. Since he only wore his briefs, and his clothes were strewn all over her bedroom floor, she could take solace in the fact he wasn’t on his way out of the cottage, back to the castle.