“It’s not winter there,” Wylf said.
“Oh, OK,” I said. I slid out of the chair and then draped my cloak on it. I hurried to Wylfrael’s side. I reached for a different outfit, but he grunted at me to stop.
“What?” I asked, raising a brow at him.
“I already know what you’re going to wear. Just need to find it,” he said, his gaze focused on the fabrics rippling under his searching hands.
“You’re choosing what I get to wear? I didn’t know that being married to you meant I had my own personal stylist,” I said sarcastically.
“You didn’t know that?” Wylf asked, deadpan. “Would have guessed you’d have figured it out that first day I brought this all home for you.
“OK... you kind of have a point,” I said. “Alright, fine. You know these other stone sky gods and the dress code better than I ever could. I trust you.”
Wylf stiffened, his hands going still.
“Good.”
I smiled, leaning sideways until my head bumped his shoulder.
“I remember that you once told me you didn’t care if I trusted you,” I murmured.
“Things change,” he said gruffly, his hands resuming their search. “Ah. Here it is.”
I recognized the fabric immediately as Wylfrael pulled it out of the armoire. How could I forget the devastatingly perfect black silk, the first thing he’d draped over my shoulders while I’d sat glaring at him in this very room?
It was no longer a slippery, shapeless bolt, but had been sewn into a long, flowing sheath dress with thin straps and a plunging V-neck.
“This one?” I gasped, flushing at the beauty of the garment.
“Yes. Gave Aiko instructions on the design the same day I held it up against you.”
I took it from his hands, marvelling at the perfect texture.
“There’s something else,” Wylfrael said, rummaging in the armoire again. “Here.”
He placed something else on top of the dress in my hands. Something made of stunning gold and white lace I hadn’t noticed in the chests of fabric last time.
“What is it?” I asked. But even as I asked, I instantly knew what it was. A mask, the kind you’d wear to a masquerade ball. I raised the dress and the mask closer to my face, astonished by the delicate beauty of the glimmering gold lace.
“Aiko made this too?”
“No,” Wylf answered. “I did.”
“You?!” I gawked. “I didn’t know you could sew!”
“Anyone who can write in Sionnachan can sew,” Wylf said simply.
“OK, but being able to sew and being able to make something like this are two completely different things and you know it! I don’t remember seeing this lace before.”
I’d been inundated with fabrics and clothing, but I would have remembered golden lace like this.
“I purchased it at a different time. Before the rest of it.”
“Before?” I frowned. He’d gone out to get all this stuff pretty soon after we got fake engaged. “I don’t understand.”
Wylfrael’s mouth puckered into an irritated frown.
“I bought it right after you arrived,” he muttered. “There. Are you satisfied? Even before I knew I loved you, I was a fool for you. Buying expensive lace in shops because it reminded me of your eyes. Ridiculous.”
I wanted to whisper that it wasn’t ridiculous, but I could see what bothered him. Back then, we’d been enemies. I was his prisoner. We’d hated each other. And yet...
And yet, he’d bought beautiful lace because it reminded him of me.
Wylf spoke again, all the bitterness gone from his voice.
“That was the first thing I noticed when I saw your face, you know. Your eyes. You may have been human, and I may have considered you a foreign invader, but your eyes were all Sionnach. Honey on snow. The sweetness of my homeland in the gaze of a woman from across the cosmos. I should have realized, even then, that it meant something.”
“Meant what?”
“That something tied you to me. That you would be mine. I was stupid not to see it then.”
“I don’t know if that’s fair,” I offered. While he’d made some pretty terrible choices when it came to how he’d handled me, I felt a sudden need to defend him. “You found me as part of a colonizing, invading force in your world after going through a ton of your own stuff with Skalla. You were enraged and hurting when you found me. You didn’t starburn, you didn’t feel a mate bond. I don’t think you could have predicted we’d fall in love just because of the colour of my eyes.”
“Perhaps,” he said slowly. “I wonder, sometimes, about the starburn. The stone sky mate bond.”
Insecurity pinched me. Was he second-guessing this? If he changed his mind, wanted to go find his true mate now, I knew with a searing pain that I’d let him. Because it would save him, even if it destroyed me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, keeping my voice steady, but barely. “What do you think about it?”
“I wonder how that bond could ever possibly eclipse what I have grown to feel for you.”
Oh.
“If I had not been asleep, away for so long, I wouldn’t be dressing you in silk and lace to go see the other gods. I’d be tearing that beautiful dress right off of you before you could take a single step.”
He sighed, as if he regretted the circumstances deeply.
“But as it is, we must go. I need to speak with other stone sky gods. The only ones I’ve seen in eons are Skalla and Maerwynne, and Skalla wasn’t exactly in the conversing mood.”
Right. It was a reminder of our duties, of the people relying on us. We needed to keep going – go to the gathering, and get Wylf on the council – to find the human women and hopefully help Skalla’s mate, assuming she was still alive.
“What are you going to do when you find Skalla, after you’ve joined the council?” I asked. Wylf had mentioned lately that he had a feeling Skalla might be back on his mother’s homeworld of Bohnebregg by now. But even if Skalla was there, Wylf wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him or confine him without the power of other stone sky gods. He’d already almost died – twice – trying to beat his berserker cousin. “Are you going to kill him?”
“I’d rather not,” Wylf said. “Though he has caused immeasurable and perhaps irreparable harm, he is still Skalla to me. My cousin and my oldest friend. At least, I hope he is, somewhere in there.”
I folded the mask and dress into my arms and leaned forward, pressing my cheek to my husband’s chest in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. I understood Wylf’s need to keep Skalla alive. Skalla was someone he’d known and loved throughout his immortality. He was his father’s brother’s son, someone he’d grown up with. Someone I knew he still longed to save if he could.
“I understand,” I said. “He’s your only remaining family. Of course, you don’t want to kill him.”
Wylf’s voice grew stern, maybe even angry, with reproach.
“Skalla is not my only family.”
He grasped my shoulders and pushed me back so that I was forced to look into his serious face.
“You are my family now, Torrance. You are my wife. And I hope you know that if it ever came down to choosing between you and Skalla, between you and anyone else, it would be you. Only you, beloved. Every single time.”
He pulled me back to his chest, closing his arms around me and resting his chin on the top of my head.
“Do you understand?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered. I sniffed, then gave a shaky laugh. “I better get into this dress before I cry all over it.”
“Yes... yes, we should go.” His arms didn’t seem to agree with his words, and I had to pull myself away to get changed. As I peeled off my grey dress and slipped into the perfectly fitted black silk, I watched my husband as he prepared to leave. He apparently didn’t feel the need to change. The only thing he did was strap a long, shining sword to his back.