Kaysar and Cookie showed Viori to a spacious, private suite with decorations fit for a young, spoiled princess.
“I kept this room for you,” Kaysar told her proudly. “Just in case.”
She scanned her surroundings. A ruffled pink comforter draped a canopied bed. Gilt-framed portraits of dresses hung on the walls. An assortment of porcelain dolls perched upon a mahogany dresser.
Kaysar moved in front of her. He cupped her cheeks gently, those metal claws covered in dried blood and other things as he forced her gaze to meet his. Tears welled. He looked so much like Papa, before the plague had come. Dark and strong and perfect. Capable.
“I want to know you again, sister,” he told her, using the softest tone. “I want to learn what happened to you, all those centuries ago. Where you’ve been, what you’ve done. But not today. Today, you require rest. And what you require, I shall provide.” Gently, he swiped his thumbs under her eyes, collecting any escaped tears. “Do not cry. I don’t think I can bear it.”
“Rest. Yes,” she croaked. “I’ll rest.” She eased from him as a sob bubbled up inside her. Not wanting anyone to see her like this, she pushed the couple out of the room and shut the door in their confused faces, sealing herself inside. Alone, but for her guilt. The way she longed to be.
She spun and pressed against the door, flattening her hands on her stomach to ward off the ache. Before Micah had left her to do those “things,” he’d looked so sad. Utterly destroyed. She’d yearned to have him in her arms. But he’d refused. He needed time to decide his—their—future, she supposed. Time she owed to him.
In the beginning, he’d given her everything she needed. In the end, he’d given her a choice. It was only fair that she do the same for him, no matter how much she frothed to fight for him.
More tears escaped, falling without her brother’s interference. Come back to me, husband. Please.
She hurried through a shower and dressed in a new robe. A lovely pink silk garment she found hanging in the closet, alongside a note she couldn’t read. Then she paced, her mind whirling. Give him time? Yes. That was decided. But he shouldn’t make his ultimate decision about their relationship until she’d made her grand gesture. And there was only one “grand” thing she could do. Butcher the trolls. Then, Norok couldn’t use them against Micah.
“There are some obstacles I cannot shake, wife, but I yearn for you, anyway.”
Gasping, Viori spun around. Micah! He stood near the window, framed in golden light. His dark head hung, his chin seeming to rest on his sternum. His narrowed gaze pinned her, wet hair dripping from his forehead. He was shirtless save for a strap of material over each shoulder, his scars on stark exhibition. Though his gashes had healed, bruises remained. Black pants with yellow stripes molded to his powerful thighs. He was barefoot.
Her heart skipped a beat. He’d come back for her. And he looked both weary and hungry. The hunger could be stoked.
Though she wished to jump into his arms, she resisted the urge. Better not to spook him. Striving for a teasing tone, she said, “My charm must be slipping. You came after me in less than twenty minutes, though I expected you in ten. But that’s okay. I forgive myself.”
The barest smile made a momentary appearance. “You are happy to see me?”
“Of course I am. You’re my favorite person, Micah.”
He blinked. Uh-oh. Had she admitted too much too fast?
She wrung her fingers. “How did you find me?”
“I knew there were only a few rooms Kaysar would put you.”
All right, she could stand it no longer. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, Micah.” The words burst from her. “So sorry I withheld my secrets from you. I want to be with you more than anything.”
A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “I want to be with you as well, so we will do this. We’ll stay married.”
“But?” she rasped, wrapping her arms around her middle.
“But. My ability to trust is damaged. I’ll give you everything I can. Except that.”
Damaged. I fractured him the way Laken fractured me. No. No! Laken had pretended not to know her when she confronted him about his misdeeds. She would fight to the death to make things right with Micah. “I can prove myself to you. I will.”
“Not after Norok and Elena, Diane and Fayette, and everyone before them. Not after...us.” He compressed his lips into a grim line, then shook his head. “You must take what I can give you.”
“No,” she repeated, raising her chin. “I’m as unwilling as you are. I won’t give up.”
“Viori—”
“No. You came back to me. Now deal with the consequences.” Heart thundering, she glided closer. He watched, and though he might not mean to be, he was rapt. Once she stood within range, she snaked her arms around him and rose to her tiptoes. Her gaze held his as she slowly leaned in...and claimed his lips with her own. A soft peck. Another. She licked the seam.