4 DAYS LATER
The first snowfall was bittersweet for Tyronian. For the longest time, snow had been a blessing to his eyes.
It had been his timekeeper, the beautiful miracle of nature that lifted his spirit up. Because each winter, each snowflake that fell brought him closer to the time that he’d go after the woman he wanted, closer to the day he could fulfil his promise and make Namoriee his wife.
But what used to be his joy was now his greatest sorrow. A cold reminder that, even after all his waiting, he was left alone.
With a heavy sigh, he turned away, banishing the sight of it falling from his eyes by looking down. He’d been chief of the Siraces for three months, and he hated it just as much as he thought he would. He missed being able to do what he pleased, and he missed his cousins. He wondered who in his recruits had finished their trials and went on to being warriors, or if any of them had failed.
Being chief was hard. You constantly had people coming to you, telling you what to do or what they needed, and how you were expected to make things right. He was in a constant worry, about the people, about his performance, about his duty.
It was exhausting, and he feared his perfect hair would gray and shrivel away.
He did not have the bone structure to be bald.
He kept his head down as he trudged through the snow that was quickly starting to coat the ground, cursing at himself for even wanting to go out and witness it fall in the first place. By the time he got into his house, he’d worked himself into such a frenzy that he didn’t comprehend he wasn’t alone.
“I realized something.”
Tyronian cursed, his hand flying to the long knife he kept strapped to his person in an instant. He faltered when he saw Namoriee there, looking as beautiful as ever in a soft blue gown. Her hair was longer than he remembered, tumbling around her in soft waves. His fingers were itching to bury themselves in it.
He didn’t say anything right away, too stunned to see her in front of him. She looked down, biting the bottom lip that he loved to taste. She fidgeted, showing her nerves.
He snapped out of his daze, shaking his head. He looked down, waited a beat, and then looked back up. Seeing her still there, he realized that he wasn’t seeing a hallucination his heart had conjured up. His wife really was standing in front of him.
“What’s that?” he asked, breathier than he would have liked. She didn’t look back up at him right away, which was fine, because it gave him more time to stare at her without her knowing.
He couldn’t believe that she was here.
“I thought I had been alone my entire life,” Namoriee started, her voice soft and hesitant, with only the slightest of trembles.
“I always relied on myself for survival, because that’s all I had.” She took a deep breath and then tilted her head up, looking straight at him.
His breath was knocked out of him from that look alone.
“But then I thought back, and I realized that you were always there. For every big moment in my life, you were there. I know now that it was you who looked after me.”
He didn’t try to deny it. She smiled.
“It was all because of you. That day in the woods was the day you made Aggod make me her apprentice, and my punishments stopped. Likewise, Samanthia stopped tormenting me because you sent her away.”
She moved closer to him, her voice gaining more strength with each word.
“I didn’t know why Xavier made me Leawyn’s handmaiden. There were plenty of other women he could have chosen, but he picked me . . . because of you.”
She wasn’t asking him, but he nodded anyways. His heart was pounding when she kept walking towards him, his breathing growing increasingly unsteady.
“You cut off a man’s head because he attacked me. You made sure that I didn’t suffer, but you let me make my own mistakes. You allowed me to grow into a woman, but protected me as a girl. You did what no man would have done, and waited to claim me.”
She was practically upon him now, and he savored her sweet scent when she was close enough. He shuddered when her hands landed on his forearms, her touch tentative. He released the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding when she brought his arms up until they rested on her hips. His fingers twitched, wanting to grab on and not let go.
She closed her eyes for a moment, as if she were savoring the same thing he was; their closeness. Her breathing was shaky, and he was momentarily startled to see the tears in her eyes when she raised them to meet his own.
“I’ve never had much, I never did. But with you?” A tear slipped past her eyelashes and trailed down her cheek. “I have everything.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes were big, bright, and glossy. She was trembling just as much as he was, and he didn’t want to break the silence. He was too afraid—too hopeful—of what this might mean.
“I’m so sorry I doubted you,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry that I let you walk out of our door. I’m sorry that I acted like a spoiled child, and I’m sorry I blamed you for my flaws. I’m not worthy of you, I never was. But I’m selfish, and I fell in love with you despite all that. I’m just sorry I couldn’t admit it when you needed to hear it the most.”
She sucked in a breath, her hands hovering above his cheek like she was afraid he would shy away from her touch. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
He reached up and brought her hand to rest against his cheek, which had become bearded in her absence.
“You’re wrong,” he rumbled quietly, his voice hoarser with emotion, “about being unworthy of me.”
He tipped her chin with the crook of his finger, his lips suspended over hers.
“You’re the only thing in this life that is. I love you. But if you want to leave, this is your chance. Because I’m never letting you go again.”
“You never should have let me go to begin with. I tried to live without you, and it didn’t work. I was miserable. You’re stuck with me for—”
She didn’t finish her sentence, because his lips descended on hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist, hauling her up against his body as he kissed her for all he was worth. Her lips were the water to his parched mouth; he was a desert traveler on the brink of death until the elixir of her love saved him.
They pulled back only when breathing became necessary, and even then, they couldn’t stop their lips meeting for frantic pecks.
“I love you.”
She smiled the most beautiful, heartfelt smile; one that made him feel her love deep in his bones.
“Whether you like it or not,” she vowed.
He couldn’t help but grin and return the sentiment.
“Whether you like it or not.”
Namoriee stared at the woman before her with a sense of déjà vu. It was eerily reminiscent of her own trial, but she wasn’t the one facing chiefs this time.
“Do you know why you are here, Samanthia?”
The woman in question fidgeted nervously, but her gaze was unfaltering when it landed on Tyronian. She barely hid the hue of excitement before she regained a more demure look about her.
“No, Chiefs,” Samanthia replied.
Namoriee wanted to smack her. No doubt, Samanthia thought she was being called upon by the two chiefs due to a marriage proposal—one that in her deranged mind she felt she deserved.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Samanthia, as you know, we have lost the Siraces’ chief a few months back, and in his death, Tyronian has ascended as Chief of the Siraces.”
“A title he is more than worthy of, my Chief,” Samanthia purred, bowing her head respectfully whilst looking at Tyronian from beneath her lashes. It was a practiced look, meant to entice, one that, Namoriee was sure, worked for her more often than not to get what she wanted.
Samanthia visibly perked up when Tyronian smirked at her, mistaking that quirk of lips for affection. But Namoriee knew better. It was the same smirk Tyronian had shot Cantos—right before he cut off his head.
“Samanthia,” Tyronian drawled, his charming voice echoing around the dining hall they were in.
Torrick, who was standing beside her, hidden behind the wall the Izayges villagers created in front of them, gripped her hand and gave it a light squeeze. He, as well as five other Siraces warriors, had escorted Namoriee home. She had been going over the conversation she and Samanthia had that day in Aggod’s hut, all those months ago, before Leawyn came and verbally smacked her out of her moments of self-pity. Some of the things Samanthia said had irritated her, and she felt like she was missing something vital.
It had continued to boggle her mind until the third day of her travels, when she solved the mystery.
“Samanthia, you are called upon us because a grave crime has been committed with your name at the heart of the offense.”
She was brought out of her musing by Tyronian’s grave tone. “Me?” Samanthia seemed shocked. “Who has accused me of such an offense?”
Torrick gripped Namoriee’s elbow, a question in his eyes. This was the cue they were waiting for.
She inhaled deeply, readying herself to be the center of everyone’s attention again, something she still despised. But she had too much honor to flee. That’s what the old Namoriee would have done.
At her nod, Torrick and his fellow warriors escorted her to the front; the crowd parted for them easily. They didn’t stop until she was beside her husband, who wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Torrick stayed slightly in front of her, protectively, while his warriors created a solid wall behind them, intermixing with Xavier’s guard.
Namoriee bravely met Samanthia’s seething gaze.
“Samanthia,” Tyronian began, all his earlier pretense gone. “You have been accused of murder by the Lady Chief of the Siraces.”