Page 40 of The Phoenix Inheritance

I nod. Wonder courses through me as I study this tornado of a man, so ardent and raw he sweeps me away in his passion and makes me feel thrillingly alive. But that’s just an illusion, my near-death a few hours ago being a bitter reminder of that very fact.

“I wasn’t entirely honest with you myself.”

My lips clamp shut, a last impulse to keep quiet before I deny myself my every dream. You’ve already been wretched for a lifetime, the small voice in my life whispers. Why don’t you grasp the chance while it’s within your reach?

Because this is Dane’s well-being that’s at stake. And he’ll have so much more time to suffer, while I leave this world’s torments behind for good. I love him too deeply to give him such pain even from beyond the grave.

“I didn’t tell you that the salt doesn’t stop my wound entirely. Dane, it’s, it’s…” I gulp, willing my voice to grow steadier. “It’s growing. Sooner or later, it will kill me.”

To my surprise, a shaky smile breaks through his somber air. He pulls me close and plants a searing kiss on my lips, taking away some of my sorrow with it.

“That doesn’t matter. I already have the solution for that.” I eye his victorious beam warily, which almost seems to border on delirium. “I’ll cry for you enough to make you whole again. You’ll have a long life, Isobel. Trust me. I’ve heard of humans making it past eighty, sometimes even –”

“No,” I interject before Dane’s hopes take hold of me as well. “Today you healed the worst of it, yes. But the scar is still there. Even this afternoon, I felt the burn. It’s spreading as much as it always has.”

A hint of panic creeps into his stormy eyes, but he shakes his head. “Probably because one drop wasn’t enough to cure you. If we make sure to treat it for the next few weeks, perhaps –”

“Dane,” I interrupt again, my voice aching as it rasps in my throat. “You have to believe me. This scar is something that I’ve lived with for years. I’m attuned to it, almost supernaturally so.”

The wild hope that animated his face drops as swiftly as a gust of wind wipes away a candle. My heart screams more violently than ever at the injustice of it all. That a mark from years ago can steal away most of my prospects, and even more importantly perhaps, the happiness of this man who’s willing to give so much to me.

“For you, I could shed a tear every day,” he counters feebly, the last shreds of optimism waning away.

“And that’s not what I want.” My tone is so broken it’s nearly indecipherable even to my own ears. “If we can have a future together, I’d like it to be filled with smiles. Not tears.”

Dane’s hands fall to his side. His hulking shoulders wilt, his gaze drops to the floor. I wish he’d look at me as I deliver a truth that’s ripping me apart. I guess it’s too much, even for a mighty warrior like Dane.

“How long do you think you have?”

The dull, lifeless question makes me recoil. Never have I heard him address me with such coldness.

“Ten years,” I croak, twisting my fists in my dress. “Maybe fifteen if I’m lucky.”

He sags against a corner of the cell. The few inches that now separate us feel more daunting than the forest between Østrom and Solenz.

“I see.”

I want to weep, to beg Dane to take me anyhow, to argue that giving me a decade isn’t much when he has centuries.

But that wouldn’t be playing fair.

After all, I never sought a husband in the first place because no man in his right mind would accept such a shorthanded deal. If it’s a losing bargain for a mortal, then it’s certainly a dreadful one for a phoenix destined to live eternally.

Heavy silence fills the small room. I let Dane think, wrap his head around our painfully limited options. Not once does his gaze settle on me, as he glares stonily at a crack in the wall.

Centuries on the throne or a few years with me.

I suppose that in most men’s eyes, the choice is hardly a difficult one at all. I can’t help but grudgingly admire him for so much as hesitating, even if with each passing second my lungs seem to grow tighter. Still the bead of water drops from the ceiling, punctuating every excruciating moment spent waiting.

What’s going on behind that grave gaze of his?

“Alright,” his rough voice booms through the cavernous cell, making me jump in my seat and ending the dreadful quietness.

I freeze as I study him intently, looking for any hint of a decision. I find none.

I clear my throat, which feels achingly dry. “Alright, what?”

Dane hoists himself up and straightens to his full height, looming above me.

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