Page 159 of The Duke and the Disciple

“Oh.” Rahn’s face flushed with heat. The prospect hadn’t left the back of his mind since she’d proposed it, but no matter how much of each other they’d explored, there were some lines he was still afraid to cross. “Perhaps I’m still considering your request.”

“What’s your concern?”

He didn’t need to think about that. “Hurting you.”

“Isn’t that the point?” She blinked. “Is that not your fantasy?”

“There’s fantasy,” he said, “and there’s the bleak reality. I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if my fantasy caused you actual suffering.”

“Well,” Aesylt said, lacing her hand through his. “I’ll give you until springtide to think of how you’ll make this happen without too much suffering. You owe me, after all.” She laid her head against his arm. “Will you take me to bed, Scholar?”

Rahn kissed the top of her head, his heart finally settling. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Squish.”

Epilogue

Aesylt still couldn’t believe the observatory was finished.

Rahn and Drazhan had conspired to have it completed for her twenty-first nameday, months ahead of the original timeline, which would have pushed the grand opening into the last throes of autumnwhile—and they all knew that really meant another year. Any construction in the north was subject to the precariousness of the weather, and the autumnwhile season was as ephemeral as springtide.

Rustan and Pieter Dereham had donated fifty workers to the effort. They’d also sent a lovely bouquet from the Wintergarden for her nameday, with a note declaring their intention to donate half their first thaw hunt to the Cross again.

In a separate basket, Pieter had sent her and Rahn a dozen citron.

Rahn whisked her through the arched doorway. “I know you’re not thrilled about wearing a gown, but I’m already a little jealous of all the men who will see you in it for the first time.”

“I’ll enjoy it more when you’re taking it off me later tonight,” she replied, taunting him. It was tradition for Vjestik women to wear the ceremonial gowns of their ancestresses on their twenty-first, but the plumes alone had her wondering how many people she would smack in the face before the night ended. Then Rahn had dared her to wear thehattoo, and she could never pass up a challenge.

Aesylt’s haughtiness was short-lived though, cut short by her immediate overwhelm.

There were at least a hundred Vjestik inside, all dressed in the finest they had available to them. Most sat at or on the ten tables hauled up and decorated with cutout stars and carafes of Valerian’s special wine he’d crafted for the occasion.

A violinist played a lively chorale that had some dancing between the tables, creating magic under the stars. The auroras—a rarity in springtide—dusted the sky with swashes of emerald and violet, reflecting off the shards and squares of perfectly polished glass.

“What do you think, Squish?” Rahn asked, leaning close to be heard over the music and conversation.

“You must enjoy me speechless, because...” She laughed, exhaling. Everyone she loved was there. Drazhan. Valerian. Niklaus and other Petrovashes. The whole Castel clan and the Voronovs. Maia. Tasmin had just returned as well, later than she’d first said, and Aesylt couldn’t wait to catch up with her and hear all her stories about Whitechurch and Lord Quintus.

The only one missing was Imryll, who had given birth to her second son, Torian, two nights earlier. Drazhan would only stay long enough to give a speech and then would hurry back to her side. “Thank you, Rahn. I can’t imagine a better present.”

“Oh, this?” Rahn glanced around with a contrived look of startle. “This isn’t your present.”

She laughed, delighted to see his playful side on display. He had slowly been getting more comfortable with it, but he was still a serious man. “No? And how will you top anentireobservatory?”

“You’ll find out. Tomorrow.” Rahn winked, his mouth lifting. Aesylt wanted to climb him like a tree and drive them both against a wall, but Drazhan wouldn’t appreciate her lack of restraint. “Tonight, let’s enjoy what is evidently the fanciest fete the Cross has ever thrown.”

“By a mile,” she said, scanning the room in wonder.

“Just think of all we’ll learn here. Together.” Rahn squeezed her hand and gently nudged her to the center of the room, where others were dancing. “How much we’ll teach others.”

Aesylt squinted one eye. “I thought you were opposed to dance, Scholar?”

“It’s your nameday. Seemed a fair reason to make an exception.” He folded one of her hands in his and slid his arm around her waist, falling into suspiciously near-perfect time with the music.

“You’re better at this than you wanted me to know,” she said, undecided on whether to be impressed or suspicious.

“I learned very little of use on Duncarrow, but damned if they ever let us miss an opportunity to dance.”

Aesylt laughed. “You didn’t dance so smoothly with Nyssa.”

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