Morrigan's Cross
Page 74

“Glenna. Would you go back with me?”
“Two minutes,” she repeated, debating between long sword and dagger. “I need to go in and check the soup anyway.”
“I don’t mean back into the bloody kitchen. Will you go with me?”
She glanced over, automatically lifting her camera, framing his face and capturing the intensity of it. A good meal, she thought, another solid night’s sleep, and she’d be ready for full training by the next morning.
“Where?”
“Home. To my home.”
“What?” She lowered the camera, felt her heart do a quick, hard jump. “What?”
“When this is done.” He kept his eyes on hers as he closed the distance between them. “Will you come with me? Will you be with me? Belong to me?”
“Back with you? To the twelfth century?”
“Yes.”
Slowly, carefully, she set the camera down. “Why do you want me?”
“Because all I see is you, all I want is you. I think if I have to live five minutes in a world without you in it, it would be eternity. I can’t face eternity without seeing your face.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Without hearing your voice, without touching you. I think if I was sent here to fight this war, I was sent here to find you as well. Not just to fight with me. To open me. Glenna.”
He gathered her hands in his, brought them to his lips. “In all this fear and grief and loss, I see you.”
She kept her eyes on his as he spoke, searching. When the words were done, she touched a hand to his heart. “There’s so much in there,” she said quietly. “So much, and I’m so lucky to be part of it. I’ll go with you. I’ll go with you anywhere.”
The joy of it spread inside him, warmed as he touched his fingertips to her cheek again. “You would give up your world, all you know? Why?”
“Because I’ve thought of living five minutes without you, and even that was eternity. I love you.” She saw his eyes change. “Those are the strongest words in any magic. I love you. With that incantation, I already belong to you.”
“Once I speak it, it’s alive. Nothing can ever kill it.” Now he framed her face. “Would you have me if I stayed here with you?”
“But you said—”
“Would you have me, Glenna?”
“Yes, of course, yes.”
“Then we’ll see which world is ours when this is done. Wherever, whenever it is, I will love you in it. You.” He touched his lips to hers. “And only you.”
“Hoyt.” Her arms came hard around him. “If we have this, we can do anything.”
“I haven’t said it yet.”
She laughed, rained kisses over his cheeks. “Close enough.”
“Wait.” He drew her back, just an inch. Those vivid blue eyes locked with hers. “I love you.”
A single beam of light shot out of the sky, washed over them, centered them in a circle of white.
“So it’s done,” he murmured. “Through this life and all the ones to come, I’m yours. And you’re mine. All that I am, Glenna.”
“All that I’ll be. I pledge that to you.” She held close again, pressed her cheek to his. “Whatever happens, this is ours.”
She tipped back her head so their lips could meet. “I knew it would be you,” she said softly, “from the moment I walked into your dream.”
They held each other in the circle of light, held close while it bathed them. When it faded, and twilight oozed over the day, they gathered the rest of the weapons, and took them into the house together.
Cian watched them from his bedroom window. Love had flashed and shimmered around them in a light that had all but burned his skin, seared his eyes.
And it had pressed against a heart that hadn’t beat in nearly a thousand years.
So his brother had fallen, he thought, for the single blow against which there was no shield. Now they would live their short and painful lives within that light.
Perhaps it would be worth it.
Then he stepped back into the shadows of his room, and the cool dark.
When he came down, it was full dark, and she was in the kitchen alone. Singing at the sink, Cian noted, in an absent and happy voice. The sort, he decided, that a fanciful person would say had little pink hearts spilling out from between her lips with the tune.
She was loading the dishwasher—a homey chore. And the kitchen smelled of herbs and flowers. Her hair was bundled up, and now and then her hips moved with the rhythm of the song.
Would he have had a woman like that if he’d lived? he wondered. One who’d sing in the kitchen, or stand in the light, looking at him with her face alive with love?
He’d had women, of course. Scores of them. And some had loved him—to their loss, he supposed. But if their faces had been alive with that love, those faces were a blur to him now.
And love was a choice he had eliminated from his life.
Or had told himself he had. But the fact was he had loved King, as a father does a son, or a brother a brother. The little queen had been right about that, and damn her for it.
He had given his love and his trust to a human, and as humans were wont to do, it had died on him.
Saving this one, he thought now as Glenna set dishes in the rack. Another thing humans had a habit of doing was sacrificing themselves for other humans.
It was, or had been, a trait that had intrigued him often enough. Easier to understand, in his circumstances, their habit on the other side of the coin—of killing each other.
Then she turned, and jolted. The dish she held slipped out of her hands and shattered on the tiles.
“God. I’m sorry. You startled me.”
She moved quickly—and jerkily, he noted, for a woman of easy grace. She took the broom and dustpan from the closet, and began to sweep the shards.
He hadn’t spoken to her, nor to any of the others, since the night of King’s death. He’d left them to train themselves, or do as they pleased.
“I didn’t hear you come in. The others finished dinner. They—they went up to do some training. I had Hoyt out for an hour or so today. Um, driving lesson. I thought... ” She dumped the shards, turned again. “Oh God, say something.”
“Even if you live, you’re from two different worlds. How will you resolve it?”