Page 126 of Of Sword & Silver

Then the Sword is there, me in his hands instead. He holds me in his arms carefully, like I’m fragile, like I’m precious and breakable and he’s scared he might break me.

“You can’t, you know?” I pull away slightly, and our breath mingles together in white vapor.

“Can’t what?”

“Break me.” It’s a whisper, a secret. “You won’t break me, Sword. If I were capable of breaking, if I were something delicate—I would already be broken.”

“Kyrie.” My name sounds like an entreaty when he says it like that. “Kyrie,” he repeats, and I close my hands over his cheeks, putting the tip of my nose against his. “I’m afraid.”

It’s so quietly said I almost miss it.

“Don’t let your fear dictate your reality.” I shake my head slightly, not wanting to move too suddenly, not wanting to scare him away. “I have been afraid my whole life. I am afraid right now. I am tired of that fear keeping me from living.”

“I want you to live, Kyrie.” A desperate ache colors the word.

I exhale in confusion. “Why would you assume I think otherwise?”

He just watches me, wordless, hardly breathing.

I smile up at him through my bewilderment, making up my mind in the span of an instant. “Then let’s live. Let’s live in this moment, this small space of peace we’ve stolen, and let’s live for each other. Right now.”

He surges against me, his mouth on mine in an answering promise.

His hands are in my hair, gentle, but there’s no restraint, no sense that he’s holding me back.

It hits me then, with a force that takes my breath away.

I trust him. I trust him not to hurt me, I trust him to treasure this as much as I will. As long as we’ve been at each other’s throats the past weeks, this—this thing between us—has been there too, simmering, making every barb especially sharp, especially poisoned.

Because we knew we could hurt each other.

My heart sings to know he’s choosing a new path for us.

That we’re choosing it together.

His lips leave mine, pressing a trail of tenderness down the pulse in my neck, across my collarbone.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, trying and failing to catch my breath. “I’m sorry I have been afraid and cruel to you. I’m sorry I didn’t see what we could have right away.”

He stills momentarily. His dark gaze goes to mine, holding it, silent.

The Sword shakes his head subtly, and I know what he’s thinking; I don’t need to ask.

“Don’t apologize for trying to protect yourself in a world that’s made you afraid,” he growls, the words reverberating all the way to my bones, like he’s carving the sentiment into my marrow.

His hands rip at my clothes and we’re crashing into each other, tearing at anything so foolish as to stand between us.

“Kyrie, I have wanted you like this, with me, for so long.” Silver strands of hair caress our skin as he shakes his head, unable to finish the sentence.

“I know?—”

“You don’t know. You can’t know.”

My chest heaves and I’m completely naked in front of him, so much more vulnerable than ever before, more open and willing than the manticore’s poison made me in the hot springs.

“Then show me,” I murmur.

Something changes in his gaze, desolation and desire flickering through his dark brown eyes in equal measure.

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