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Lorcan and Elide were on the deck - somewhere.
The night was clear and still, the ship bobbing gently along the calm waves of the sea beneath them. Stars speckled the sky, shining as if in answer to Elide’s hope, the Lord of the North hanging over her as a beacon. A guide to her home. To Terrasen.
She’d found them. She’d finally found Aelin, and Aedion, and the court that would change her life.
She tore her eyes from the stars to look upon the person who had gotten her here. The male who had ensured that she would see her Queen again, that she would see Terrasen again.
Lorcan's eyes were closed, his head angled upward, as if he could see the stars without opening them. They were both so tired. When Aelin and the rest of the court, including the two Fae males blood-sworn to Maeve, had gone to discuss travel plans with the assassin who had brought this army of ships around them, Elide had politely excused herself to bed. Aelin hadn’t objected, and with a small, concerned smile, she had bid her goodnight. Lorcan had followed, though he wouldn’t admit that the burnout looming on the horizon was also exhausting him, and Elide had been grateful. He still felt the safest, and with the number of unknown sailors and crew on this ship, she was grateful for his company.
But she hadn’t led them to their hammocks. As tired as she was, she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not yet. She was still unsettled from the events of the day.
So, silently, she’d grabbed Lorcan’s hand, and she’d led them here. They were sitting in a secluded area of the deck on the side of the ship, far from any of the crew, and the view of the stars was enough to calm Elide for the time being. The sea, the stars, the shoreline on the horizon - it was all so beautiful, so vast, so free, and nothing made Elide want to look away.
Well, except for him. She was still looking at him.
He opened his eyes and turned his head to her. Those eyes - she saw exhaustion in them, and something that looked like anxiety, and even anticipation. Like he knew something bad was about to happen. And she wasn’t naive enough to believe they would have a smooth trip to Terrasen, free of danger. She understood his wariness. She just didn’t think it was possible for him to show it that much. That stoic, powerful male - but then she realized the fear was for her, and only her, and that was the only time she would ever see it.
Elide smiled. “We made it this far."
She used that word - we - deliberately; she wanted him to know her offer was still standing. To join her. To come to Perranth. If the cadre could hold off on their kill order until they got to Terrasen, maybe he would come with her.
Lorcan only continued to look at her - into her eyes, to her mouth, and back to her eyes. He did not smile, but she didn’t expect him to. Elide reached for the few inches separating their hands on the deck, and she brushed a finger against his. He stilled, but leaned into her just a bit.
“No matter what you choose,” she breathed, “I want to thank you. For getting me here. For ensuring my safety. For… risking your life for mine, as much as I wish you wouldn’t.” She chuckled softly, a sound she hadn’t made in years, but she felt comfortable enough around him. Unafraid. “Apparently territorial Fae males are the norm around here."
Lorcan frowned at her, and looked down at their touching hands. He moved his over hers, completely enveloping it.
“Why do you feel so inclined to protect me, Lorcan?” she whispered.
His name on her lips made her look up, a rare show of emotion on his face, if only for a flicker of a moment. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath, and steadied himself enough to look at her face. “I know what it is, you know,” he mumbled, his deep voice chilling her bones.
“What what is?"
He tightened his hand around hers. “Happiness. At least,” he paused, looking down again. “I think I do."
He looked more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. And it wasn’t the burnout or the exhaustion.
“Those few minutes with you, in the marshes,” he started, lifting up her hand and cupping it with both of his. The hand of her arm that had been ruined earlier that day; the hand that Gavriel had healed. “I was happy then."
And because she felt fearless around him, because she yearned for and craved and lived for that feeling after ten years of pure terror, she said, “One day soon, we’ll finish what we started in those marshes."
And there was hunger in Lorcan’s eyes as his met hers. “Elide-"
“Whether on our journey north, or when we get there, as soon as we’re not both about to die of exhaustion…” she trailed off, leaning closer to him. “I want to."
He looked almost pained at her mention of the journey north, a pain she couldn’t place, but it vanished when she leaned in and brushed his lips with hers. A seal to a promise. One she would make to him, as he had made a promise to her.
The kiss was lazy, but soft and loving, and she could feel the desire between them beginning to grow. But they needed their rest. She pulled away, and Lorcan leaned his forehead against hers. They sat like that for a few moments before hearing a door open and quiet chatter flood the deck. Aedion’s voice. The King’s. Their meeting was over for the night.
“I’ll find us two hammocks,” she said, their mouths still only inches apart. “If you want to check in about the plans."
“Rutting burnout,” he said gruffly into her hair as he turned and stood up, frustrated. Her core heated. He looked out onto the horizon, as if looking for something. “I’ll meet you at the hammocks in a few minutes."
“I know you will,” she whispered, as he strode along the deck toward Aedion and Dorian.
Her Fae warrior.
How wrong her uncle was.