Page 19 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons
The accusation hit like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs. "You want to know what was real?" My voice rose again, all the pain and frustration of the past weeks pouring out. "This was real. What I felt for you, what I still feel—that was never a lie."
He turned back to face me, his expression guarded. "How can you say that? How can you claim to care about me when you've been playing games with three other men?"
"Because love isn't finite!" The words exploded from me with a force that surprised us both. "Because caring about them doesn't diminish what I feel for you! Yes, I love Marcus—he saved my life, gave me purpose when I had nothing. Yes, I love Septimus—he's been my closest friend since we were children, my anchor in the darkest times. And yes, I love Tarshi with everything I have—he showed me what it meant to dream of a better world."
Jalend flinched with each admission, but I couldn't stop now. The words were pouring out like blood from a severed artery.
"But I love you too," I continued, my voice breaking. "I love your mind, your wisdom, the way you see possibilities for justice in a world built on cruelty. I love your patience, your kindness, the way you make me feel like I could be someone worthy of tenderness. I love the way you touch me like I'm precious instead of just convenient."
Tears were streaming down my face now, but I pressed on.
"I knew we could never have a future. I knew that once you discovered I was just an escaped slave, a common criminal playing at being noble, you'd want nothing to do with me. But I couldn't bring myself to end it because being with you felt like coming home after years of wandering."
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, trying to regain some composure.
"So yes, I lied about who I was. Yes, I kept secrets that would have destroyed any chance we had. But I never lied about this." I pressed my hand to my chest, over my racing heart. "I never lied about loving you so much it terrifies me. About feeling so empty and lost these past weeks that I could barely function. About wanting to build something real with you even though I knew it was impossible."
The silence that followed was deafening. Jalend stood frozen, his face cycling through emotions too quickly for me to track. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.
"You love me."
"I love you." The words came out steady now, certain. "I know you can't forgive me for the deception. I know you can't get past what I am, what I've done. But whatever other lies I told, I never lied about that."
He stared at me for what felt like an eternity, his dark eyes searching my face as if trying to memorize every detail. Then, without warning, he crossed the room in three quick strides.
His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing away the tears I hadn't realized were still falling. For a moment, we just looked at each other—two people who had found something precious and fragile in the midst of chaos, only to watch it shatter under the weight of truth.
"I love you too," he whispered against my lips. "Gods help me, I love you too."
Then his mouth was on mine, desperate and hungry and full of all the words we couldn't say.
7
The taste of her tears on my lips should have been a warning to stop, to pull back, to think about what this meant. Instead, it only made me kiss her harder, deeper, as if I could somehow absorb her pain and make it my own.
I love you too.
The words echoed in my mind, drowning out every rational thought, every careful consideration that had been warring in my chest since she'd started speaking. She loved me. This woman who had survived horrors I couldn't even imagine, who had clawed her way out of slavery and built herself a new life from nothing—she loved me.
My hands tangled in her hair, marvelling at the silky texture I'd missed so desperately these past weeks. God, how had I survived without this? Without her scent filling my lungs, without the way she melted against me like she was coming home?
"Livia," I breathed against her mouth, and even her name felt different now. Not the carefully constructed identity of a noble lady, but something raw and real and entirely hers.
She made a sound that was half-sob, half-sigh, her fingers clutching at my shirt as if she was afraid I might disappear. The desperation in her touch matched my own—we were both drowning, both grasping for something solid in the chaos of everything that had just been revealed.
I should have been thinking about the implications. About what it meant that she was a fugitive slave, a member of the resistance, someone who had killed for her freedom. I should have been calculating the risks, weighing the consequences of being involved with someone who could destroy everything I'd worked for.
Instead, all I could think about was how perfectly she fit in my arms, how her body curved into mine like it had been made for this moment. How the woman I'd fallen in love with—the fierce, brilliant, impossibly brave woman—was exactly who I'd thought she was, just wrapped in circumstances I'd never imagined.
"I missed you," I confessed against her throat, pressing kisses to the pulse point that fluttered like a trapped bird. "These past weeks, I felt like I was dying without you."
Her breath hitched, and she pulled back just enough to look at me. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, her face blotchy and raw with emotion, and she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
"You sent Valeria away," she said, and I could hear the wonder in her voice, as if she couldn't quite believe it.
"Of course I did." I cupped her face again, unable to stop touching her now that I had her back. "How could you think I'd want anyone else? Even when I was furious with you, even when I thought you'd used me—I couldn't bear the thought of being with someone who wasn't you."
Fresh tears spilled over, and I kissed them away, tasting salt and sorrow and something that might have been hope.
