Wildrose steeped in snowy quiet when they returned. A cool darkness swamped the house. Facets of the chandelier glimmered in the low light from the moon. The tacked carpet and vase of dried flowers seemed to hold their breath in anticipation.
Steady, unlike his thready heart.
They transported into the main foyer, downstairs. Caterina had left at intermission, Ronald shortly after. Griffin and Zander, emotional from the opera that Maximillion couldn’t recall a single moment of, promised to plan a follow-up meeting later.
“We’re friends, Max,” Zander had said with an arm clasp. “Friends watch out for each other. Don’t let Ronald bully you. We’re here, and we know the Advocacy is, too. We’ll talk about things for Griffin’s hope of being a Council Member later.”
In the halcyon of Wildrose, Isadora peered up at him. Her chin tipped back, inquisitive eyes sparkled in the dim light. Max reached up, touched her face. His hand shook. Over and over, her whisper swirled through his thoughts.
I love you. And I know that you love me. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it, Max. Burn my list. I am satisfied. I want to be with you forever.
“How?” he whispered.
She smiled. “You show me your love every day, Max. I just didn’t understand it until now. You could say the words, but they wouldn’t mean as much as what you do for me.”
With a growl, he pulled her into his arms. Their lips crashed, colliding with the force of all his pent up pain. He growled, unable to bear the force of emotion that crashed through him. Grief threatened, ready to explode and consume. Adolescent terrors whispered promises of departure, of unworthiness.
She will not stay.
They didn’t love you either.
You are unlovable.
Those voices were the reason he couldn’t say the words.
The reason he tried so valiantly to push her away. Isadora deserved a better future than an unlovable lech of a husband, a murderer.
She eased back with a hitched breath. Her hands gripped his face.
“Max, do you know it? Do you know that you’re lovable, despite what all of them did to you? I’m not them. I’m here now, and I choose to be, because you are the most lovable man I’ve ever known.”
She’d said those words before, in the Southern Network. He hadn’t been ready to receive them then—they frightened him wholly. If he didn’t heed them, he stood to lose everything.
Above all, he adored Isadora. He respected her intelligence, her wittiness. She was a witch above repute, steeped in goodness. A witch that wouldn’t lie, nor give away her love to those unworthy.
Which meant he was worthy.
He brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and swallowed a budding pressure in his throat.
“Isa . . . no. I don’t know it.”
Her questioning face softened. Her fingers slackened against his cheek. She let them drop to his shoulder, trailing down his arms. Lines of fire illuminated in their path as she gripped his fingers.
“Tell me.”
“It’s ugly.”
“I’m not scared.”
“You might think differently of me. You might understand that there’s something unlovable inside that will frighten you away.” His voice turned husky. The vision of her, an angel before him, blurred. “You may never see me the same way when you see the dark night of my soul and I couldn’t bear that.”
She smiled, pressed her lips to his ice cold hands.
“My love,” she murmured, “you are correct, but so wrong at the same time. I will never see you the same again, but only to love you more. Tell me.”
* * *
He sat on a blanket in front of the fire, his back propped against an ottoman. Firelight bathed her in an amber glow. She’d taken down her hair, set aside earrings. Instead of an elegant gown that highlighted her perfect figure in the right places, she’d changed into her simple nightgown.
The weight of a million words lay heavy in his throat. The uneasiness of what he was about to reveal left him hollowed out. Here was the ultimate requirement. The culminating gift.
He offered up the sordid truth, as Charlie suggested.
Her hand found his. “I’m ready, Max.”
You’re not, he thought.
Throwing caution to the wind, he began.
“My mere handfasted Antonio out of spite for her sister, Serafina. Antonio and my mere secretly hated each other, but loved the turbulence of emotion their relationship inspired. Unfortunately, I was caught in the middle.”
Isadora pulled her knees to her chest, cradled her head on top. He had her rapt attention. Wide-eyed curiosity, lined with love, that gave him the grace and strength to continue.
All issued forth.
The secrets. The darkness. The nights of hunger gnawing in his stomach. The days of empty longing. The hours he curled on the floor, trying not to cry from pain lest he draw Antonio’s attention again. He stepped into the cesspool of memories with her at his side.
At some point, she curled up next to him. His arm anchored around her steadfast shoulder. He squeezed her hard—too hard. She didn’t protest. The words came at a steady cadence, like a narrator detailing a story not his own.
His childhood, linear and fraught, laid out.
Voice hoarse, he finished two hours later. “I’m sorry, Isa. I’m sorry I didn’t say the words, I just . . . I didn’t know how to grapple with the fear of losing you because of something flawed within me. Now that I admit it, it seems . . . ridiculous and unfair to you.”
Isadora peeled away from his shoulder. Her bloodshot eyes, filled with the stains of tears, captured him. His stomach caught.
How could he ever deserve her?
She squeezed his hands. “No apologies, Max. You can take all the time you need to heal. I’m here. I’m always here, through all of it.”
He ran a hand down the side of her face. She closed her eyes, leaned into the touch. He swept the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. His whisper drove from the deepest corners of his soul.
“I love you.”
Her eyes burst open.
“I love you, Isadora Sinclair, and I loved you before I met you.”
A breathless sound exhaled from her.
“You . . .”
His lips twitched in a smile.
“I’ve loved you since I first saw you, which is probably why I acted like I hated you. I’m sorry. I should never have put you through that. I . . . that is . . . love is power and . . . nothing in Alkarra frightens me like you do. Nothing reduces me to a pile of fear and rubble like my concerns for you, your safety, your heart. I would do anything for you.”
He stopped, growled.
“You turn me into a right disaster. This isn’t romantic at all.”
She giggled, then climbed onto his lap and straddled his legs. Both her hands went to his neck, forcing him to stare at her. A stormy swirl of curiosity, hope, and—dare he say it?—adoration swirled there.
“I’ve loved you since then too, Max.”
He shook his head. “No, Isa,” he whispered, leaning closer. Their foreheads pressed together. “It’s been much longer than that. I’ve known you years before the fateful day in the forest when we stumbled on each other.”
Confusion clouded her features.
“What?”
“Years ago, I was in the paths. A wisp appeared. It was out of context and without a trail. In it, there was a child.”
He recalled the day with a distorted sense of nostalgia. The first time she’d appeared to him, he’d been younger, filled with Advocacy business, a burgeoning career, and vinegar. The young girl in the wisp hadn’t made sense. He’d dismissed it as a strange quirk of the magic.
Now he understood.
“A young girl, more child than not. Probably eight? I can’t remember. I didn’t think much of it, the wisps come and go. A while later, not sure how long passed, the same girl appeared. Again. And again. Over time, I came to expect her. Started to recognize the growing face, crinkled smile, and brilliant eyes. Sometimes, she was the only thing that I saw. Indeed, there wasn’t even a path. Just . . . her.”
By degrees, the emotions in Isadora quieted. Her shoulders rolled back, fingers opened at her side. Her fastidious attention reminded him of a held breath.
“She appeared on her own, through the years. I saw her at different times. She aged as time marched on. I started to look forward to seeing her. Her progress and smiles. One day, a trail led to her for the first time. She stood in a forest, surrounded by trees. Letum Wood, obviously, but I had no idea where. I also understood a silent command. I was to find her.”
Her hand covered her mouth. Tears swam in a sparkling display of emotion. He could barely swallow past his own affection to speak.
“So I searched,” he rasped. “I found her after several attempts at transporting around. The magic seemed to . . . step in and take me there.”
“Me?”
“You.”
She sucked in a breath, blinking fast. “What does it mean?”
He snorted. “At the time, I certainly didn’t understand. You were infuriating and bull headed stubborn and . . .” He clenched his fists. “The most incredible witch I had ever met. I couldn’t help or stop my fascination with you, though the good gods know that I tried. Isadora, I loved you before I even met you.”
Her eyes swam with tears. A shaky breath followed. She studied him with a mixture of desperation and rapture.
“The South,” she whispered. “You said—”
“I know what I said.”
“Why?”
He kissed her softly and she melted in his arms. Reluctantly, he pulled away.
“Don’t you see, Isa? You deserve better than me. You deserve a witch who won’t be afraid of sucking you into his darkness, his quiet. I’m terrified that . . . if you spend too much time with me . . . I’ll . . .”
Her hand pressed to his cheek. The magic of her touch infused him, spreading from head to soul. Max drew in a breath, inhaled the light scent of lavender. It infected him, filling his head with an effervescent sensation.
“What?” she whispered.
He leaned into her, nuzzling her wrist. “I don’t want to change you, Isa. You are goodness and light and I crave you like a dying man. There is much solitude and silence and coldness in my life. If I were to have you, then lose you, I could not bear it. Yet, if it’s love you seek, there is nowhere you will find it in greater abundance than my arms. Than Wildrose. I daresay the magic meant to make it clear that you were always supposed to be mine, if you’d have me.”
He pulled her closer, felt her body pressed to his. Her stirring heat, the undeniable warmth that no fire could ever touch, saturated him. He wanted all of her.
The tips of her fingers sank into his hair, running along his scalp. Tears sparkled on her lashes, ready to fall.
“Max, I love you. I want to be with you and only you. Imperfections, lacking motivations, whatever we must endure. We can vow, tonight, under no duress or responsibilities, to do it together. We might have been handfasted by a High Witch months ago, but it’s tonight that we are truly together.”
“I will always love you, Isa.”
He devoured her with a kiss.
Passion spiked through her body as his warm lips covered hers. She clawed him closer, banishing space, as an end to his final surrender. I love you slipped through his bloodstream like smoke.
He pulled away, arms tight around her waist. Isadora smiled adoringly at him
“Max?”
“Anything.”
“Take me to bed?”
He paused, registering what she said with a blink. Shock appeared, then a silent question. She pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.
“My love.”
With a growl, he swept her into his arms. She laughed, arms around his neck, as he carried her to their new world.
Together.