There was now unease on every face, including that of the younger prince, who stepped off the dais and hurried toward the couple.
“Germain—” he began, but his brother cut him off.
“I will speak to you at a later time. At present I have a considerably higher priority than listening to anything you have to say.” He released Sarai and turned to face her, holding out his arm. “Come, my love.”
For a moment she stared up into his face, hardly able to master her thoughts enough to move. He had never called her that before, had never used that word. Even in the tension of the moment, she was captivated by the way it sounded on his lips, by the apparently unconscious softening of his voice as he said it.
She took the offered arm, and they exited the room together, their steps stately and slow, as though strolling casually through the gardens again. But Germain’s chest was still heaving, and Sarai could feel the way the muscles in his arm jumped under her hand. She herself felt curiously numb. She barely noticed where he was leading her, only realizing as the door closed behind them that he had taken her to his own private suite.
He removed his arm as soon as they were inside, crossing the length of the room and back with short, agitated strides. He came to a stop just before her, still breathing hard.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice tight.
Sarai nodded, then found that she was shaking. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For…for…”
“I don’t want your thanks.”
Germain’s words were clipped, and Sarai stepped back slightly. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the spasms rocking her body, and to school her features into an expression befitting a princess.
Germain closed his eyes, looking pained. “I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered.
Sarai felt her heart drop into her stomach. What was he saying? Where would she go, how could she live, if he cast her off?
“Germain, I—I’m sorry,” she said desperately, her voice unsteady.
“You’re sorry?” he repeated, opening his eyes and staring at her so intently that she felt forced to lower her gaze.
“I am, truly. I…I know that our marriage has brought you nothing but trouble. I know the alliance is not the advantage you hoped. And,” she swallowed, willing herself not to let the tears spill out, “I know it’s my conduct in chasing all over the country as much as the disappointment of the alliance that has contributed to the court’s disapproval of me.”
“Sarai—” Germain cut himself off, taking a deep breath as though trying to master himself. “I don’t want your apology any more than I want your thanks.”
Sarai chanced a look up at him, and her heart faltered at the storm in his eyes. She opened her mouth, but there seemed to be nothing she could say. She flinched involuntarily as Germain took a sudden step toward her, then was taken by surprise when he seized her hands roughly.
“I want you,” he said, his voice low and intense. “You torment me, Sarai.” She raised her eyes to his, stunned at how his words vibrated with passion. Was this wild-eyed desperate man the reserved, unimpassioned prince she had married? He released one of her hands to lay his own on her cheek, and she stilled completely at the gentle touch.
“But how do I reach you?” he whispered, his eyes searching her face. “How do I get inside this wall?”
“Germain…” she whispered, then trailed off, unable to think of a single thing to say in her shock.
He suddenly laid his forehead against hers, and Sarai realized she was once again shaking violently.
“I have tried to be respectful,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I know you have been in terrible grief, and even before that, you were in an unfamiliar place, among unfamiliar people. I didn’t want to press you to open your heart to me. I wanted to give you space, let you find your feet in your own way. But I probably went about it all wrong.” He took a deep breath. “It doesn’t come naturally to me, to express…affection, or emotion.” He gave a small groan and pulled away. “I am probably the last man in the world to have success in breaking through the barrier around your heart.”
He wasn’t meeting her eyes, but Sarai couldn’t stop staring at him, dumbfounded. She was shaken to the core by this uncharacteristic outburst.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “I didn’t want to be cold, and I know I have been.” The tears were standing in her eyes. “I know you deserve better—”
“Sarai, stop,” he groaned. “You have nothing to apologize for. You cannot believe you share any blame for what has happened in Kyona, or for what you have endured. There has been nothing—nothing—in your conduct to justify the prejudice just displayed against you. I have feared something like this. Why do you think I wanted you here, visible, so the court couldn’t make false accusations that you were somehow shirking your duty?”
She could feel his keen gaze back on her, but it was Sarai’s turn to lower her eyes. “I was afraid, Germain,” she whispered, and he took a small step back toward her. “I know you don’t want me to thank you, but when you walked into that room, I…I could not have been more grateful, or more relieved to see you, if you had pulled me from a burning building.”
“Sarai, you are my wife. I would not hesitate to run into a burning building for you,” said Germain, and she couldn’t doubt the sincerity in his voice.
“Do you think it’s true?” she whispered. “That the usurper might send someone to kill me? That he might even try to kill our children?”
“I don’t know if it’s true he will try,” said Germain. A flicker of something had passed over his form when she mentioned their future children, but his voice was quite even. “But I know he will not succeed if he does. Valoria is strong, Sarai. You are a Valorian royal now, and so will our children be. Valoria will protect you. I will protect you with my last breath.”
He reached out a hand, tilting her chin gently up, forcing her to meet his eyes. He searched her gaze silently for a long moment before speaking.
“Sarai…”
He released her suddenly, once again striding up the room. When he next spoke, he wasn’t facing her, and she had to strain to hear him.
“You have acknowledged yourself that you have been distant,” he said, his tone stilted. “And that emboldens me to ask…” He paused. “Perhaps I should not ask this. But back in Kyona did you…was there anyone…” He took a deep breath, then turned to face her, meeting her gaze with determination. “I know you made sacrifices to come here. I know you left your family, and your home, to come and be with me. But—if I can ask such an intrusive question—did you sacrifice your heart as well?”
Sarai had been frowning in confusion, but she suddenly took his meaning, and her expression cleared.
“No Germain,” she said in her soft voice. “I made no sacrifice of that kind. There was never anyone else.”
His whole figure seemed to lighten with relief, and his face was softer than ever as he strode back toward her. He took her hands in his again.
“Then surely,” he said, his voice low, “surely there is some hope of me winning your heart.”
She didn’t know how to answer him. Her mind was reeling from his revelations. She had never imagined he was bottling up such emotions. How could she tell him whether there was hope of him winning her heart? It felt like an age since she had hope of any kind, and she had even begun to wonder whether she had a heart, ice sculpture that she was.
The remembered insult brought Lady Marietta to mind, and before she could lose her nerve, Sarai found herself returning the question. A week ago—an hour ago—she would never have imagined taking such a liberty, but everything felt changed now.
“And you?” Germain looked confused, so Sarai pushed on, her face coloring. “Did you sacrifice your heart to…to form our alliance?”
“Me? Of course not.” Germain searched her face, as if desperate to read the thought behind her question. “Is that what has been in your mind? Has that thought been tro
ubling you?”
Sarai couldn’t quite meet his eye, but she found to her own astonishment that a small smile was curling her lips at his reply. “No, I haven’t been troubled, exactly. I mean, I never assumed I had any right to your heart simply because our kingdoms wished for an alliance. I have wondered at times…I know there are many beautiful women in the court here, who are…more skilled at being agreeable than—”
“If I didn’t know better,” interrupted Germain, in grim amusement, “I would think you were speaking of Lady Marietta.”
She raised her head quickly, a self-conscious look in her eyes. He scanned her face again, and she could see he knew he had guessed correctly.
“Her constant attempts to engage my attention have barely decreased since our marriage.” His voice dropped as he studied her. “I have wondered why it didn’t seem to bother you.”
“It does bother me,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “But I felt I had no right to resent it. And I think I was too proud to admit it even to myself. But when she said that if only my horse would trample me, then you might be free, I realized that—”
“She said what?!” Germain’s expression was thunderous.
“It was nothing, Germain,” said Sarai quickly, wishing she hadn’t let her tongue run away with her. “She spoke maliciously, yes, but it was in jest, and to a friend. She didn’t intend for me to hear. She didn’t know I stood nearby, also watching you in the training yard.”
“You were watching me in the training yard?” Germain looked intrigued, instantly distracted from his anger. Sarai sighed. They were straying further from the point.
“Yes, I was, and I can’t help but feel that if you don’t want to be pursued by the ladies of the court, you shouldn’t train half-dressed in public.” She reached out to lightly touch his chest, and his muscles jumped beneath her fingers. She looked up to see him watching her with a smile that was a little too knowing. She stilled, captured by his gaze, and his expression softened.
“Oh Sarai. I’m sorry Lady Marietta’s attentions have made you uncomfortable. It was unnecessary, I promise you. Long before I married you, I was perfectly able to recognize her interest for what it is—a coveting of my crown.” He smiled. “A coveting of your crown, I should say. I do not find her flattery particularly agreeable. I suppose,” he spoke dispassionately, “that she is beautiful. But myself,” he reached out to twine a strand of her dark hair around his fingers, “I prefer a dark-haired kind of beauty.”
Sarai’s heart thumped unevenly in her chest, and she couldn’t calm its beating any more than she could tear her eyes away from her husband’s face. His hand traveled from her hair to her face, resting lightly on her cheek.
“I have never loved any woman but you, Sarai,” he said, his voice again softening around the word until it was a caress.
For a moment Sarai could only blink, the declaration was so wholly unexpected. “You…love me?”
“Of course I do,” said Germain sternly. “I have loved you since the moment I married you.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t know me when you married me, Germain.”
“I know,” he acknowledged easily.
“Then how can you say you loved me?”
His eyes searched her face, his expression serious. “I loved you because I chose to love you. I was very willing to make this marriage alliance, Sarai. I wanted to do my duty to my kingdom. But like any man, I didn’t want to spend my life in a loveless marriage. So I chose to love you. I decided before we even met that I would love you, and I committed myself to that love when we took our vows, as surely as I committed my kingdom to an alliance.”
Sarai could barely draw breath. Was it truly that simple? Could she just choose to love him? Did she dare to take the risk?
“I hoped also that you would come to love me,” Germain continued. “I didn’t expect it to happen straight away, and when Kyona was attacked…” He trailed off, clearly not wanting to cause her pain.
Her eyes were on the ground, tears pooling in them yet again. “I have felt so alone, Germain.”
“I know,” he responded gently. “And it has broken my heart to see it. More than anything I wish to ease your loneliness. Do you think…” He hesitated. “Do you think there is any chance you could come to love me, with time? That you could come to trust me with your heart as well as your hand?”
The tears were running down her cheeks now, and still she couldn’t look at him. “I think there is a chance, and that’s what terrifies me,” she whispered. “I have felt love trying to take root, in my heart, but I’m too afraid to let it grow. I’m too broken, too bruised from what I have lost. I don’t think my heart is capable of loving, Germain. I’m too afraid to let it open again.”
“Sarai.” His voice was a whisper. “You are wrong to think yourself incapable of love. I don’t expect you to be whole and undamaged after what you have suffered. I don’t expect you to put aside your grief in order to love me.”
He took a deep breath. “I love you Sarai, I truly do. And I don’t want to wait respectfully anymore for a distant day when your heart will be healed enough for you to believe you’re worthy of love. Because if you continue to wander like a ghost, lonely and without hope, that day will never come. Let me in now—let me share your grief, let me share your burdens. You will find they’re half as heavy.”
There was a long moment of silence, as Sarai continued to cry, and Germain continued to watch her. She could hardly believe her ears. She had thought she was alone, unseen and unknown. But he had seen everything, he knew everything, and he longed for her heart as desperately as she had longed for his, without being willing to admit it to herself.
“Whatever you decide, whether or not you can let me in,” Germain continued, his voice steady, “know that I will love you for the rest of my life, as I swore to do.”
She looked up at last, seeing him fully for the first time, and yet finding his face as familiar as her own. Had she been surprised a few weeks ago to realize he was handsome? He was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen. And he was hers, truly hers, all hers.
“Germain,” she whispered, putting all the words she couldn’t say into those two syllables.
It was enough.
His hand had still been on her cheek, but he slid it behind her neck, pulling her against him at last. His other arm wound around her waist as he bent his head to claim her lips. She leaned up into him, twining her arms around his neck and returning his kiss with a passion she had thought she’d never be able to unlock. Her cheeks were still wet with tears, but he didn’t seem to mind as he kissed her hungrily, possessively, his hand straying to her cheek, her neck, to tangle through the dark waves of her hair.
She had been so afraid to let her heart be vulnerable—she had never imagined letting herself love him would feel so safe, so complete, so right.
After a long and blissful minute, they pulled back, and Germain again rested his forehead against hers.
“I didn’t know you could kiss like that,” Sarai said, her voice breathless. She could feel that her hair was a mess, and she flushed to think what her lady’s maid would say at being called to rearrange it in the middle of the morning.
Germain chuckled, his own breathing unsteady. “In all honesty, neither did I.” His arms tightened around her. “But you unlock me, Sarai.”
She smiled, breathing in the smell of him, and reveling in her sudden lightheadedness.
“I shouldn’t have sent you away that day—that terrible day in the tower room,” she said suddenly, her voice soft. “I should have come to you when you held your arms out to me. I shouldn’t have chosen to be alone when I didn’t have to be.”
He pulled back further, his eyes searching hers. “Do you mean that?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Sarai. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you in. Perhaps we could have had this conversation months ago.”
Germain let out a long exhale. “Then perhaps you won’t be
angry when I make my confession.”
“What confession?” asked Sarai, startled.
Germain’s expression was an endearing mix of sheepish and proud. “I didn’t leave. You sent me away, but I didn’t go. I left the room, of course. I felt I couldn’t refuse your request. But I couldn’t bear to deliver such news to you and then leave you alone.” He rubbed her cheek gently with his thumb. “I wept with you, Sarai, I just did it on the other side of the door.”
She looked at him in wonder. In the worst moment of her life, when she had thought she was utterly alone in the world, he had been there. Even after she had unfeelingly sent him away when he tried to comfort her, still he had been there.
She had no words, but she didn’t need them. She leaned toward him again, and in less than a heartbeat she was back in his arms, his lips once again pressed against hers. His arms were around her waist, those powerful muscles growing tighter, tighter, until she was sure he would never let go, that this moment would last forever.
Rap rap rap.
“Your Highness?”
The servant’s muffled voice sounded nervous, even through the door, and Sarai remembered with faint surprise how angry Germain had been when they had entered this room.
“Your Highness, you’re needed urgently.”
Germain groaned, his arms tightening around Sarai for a moment as she tried to pull away.
“It’s all right, Germain,” she said with a smile, straightening his hair with a gentle hand. He closed his eyes at the contact, a smile on his own face. “Go. This can wait until later. We have time.”
“Yes, we do.” He opened his eyes again, and their intense gaze instantly captured hers. He lifted her hand to his mouth, as he had done so many times before, but this time he flipped it gently so that he pressed his kiss against her palm. A tingle seemed to leap from his lips, spreading through her whole body. “We have the rest of our lives.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jocelyn gasped as she pulled away, her palm tingling as though it was her who had been kissed so tenderly. Her mind raced with thoughts and emotions, both foreign and familiar, and she pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks.
Legacy of the Curse Page 46
