Page 190 of Warlord's Plaything

Kaelith is gone.

The orcs stand at a distance, watching, waiting, uncertain of what comes next.

Menias is among them, his gaze unreadable, his fate now his own.

The rebels who survived kneel among the broken earth, weary, battered, but alive.

And me?

I am standing.

Not alone.

Not anymore.

Xyron is beside me.

Bruised. Weak. Breathing.

His eyes burn into mine, filled with something I do not know how to name.

Something more than victory.

Something deeper.

Something unchanging.

And it terrifies me.

I know what it is.

And I am not ready.

But he is patient.

He has always been so gods-damned patient with me.

So he only tilts his head, amusement flickering over his bloodstained lips.

"Are you going to say it?"

I blink.

"Say what?"

His smirk is weak but infuriating.

"That you love me."

My throat tightens.

The words are there.

Resting on my tongue.

Instead, I grab the front of his armor, pull him against me, crush my lips against his with all the desperation of a woman who almost lost everything. His arms wrap around me, holding me tight, like he is still afraid I might vanish. His kiss is rough, unyielding, full of fire and war and everything we are.

And I pour everything into it.

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