Page 119 of A Bride for the Winter King
One summer; it was now or never
As luck had it, my star-crossed lover
I was promised to another
But I only wanted you
Yours was a crown of gold
Mine only a shard of cold
A piece of coal
Safe from my cruel shadow
I risked it all to hold you
And lost it all in one go
It was never to be
Never to be
But I only wanted you”
The tempo of the music softens, and the mournful piano notes ring out, filling the silent room with their melancholic beauty.
“Such a lovely, heartbreaking song. Do you know who she wrote it for?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
Elio laughs softly. “Not me, I assure you.”
“I wasn’t—” I cut off my husband with a sharp look. “I’m not jealous of Beth anymore. Just curious.”
“Thank Thanatos, you’ve stopped using her entire name,” he quips.
I give his arm a playful slap. “Shush.”
“But you just gave me an idea. Beth might be able to help us barter with Thera for your brother. It’s a well-kept secret, but Beth almost married her son.”
“Is he the guy from the song?”
“Yes, and I’m sure Thera would give anything for them not to meet again. But let’s not involve Beth just yet. The apple I gave the Summer Queen should buy us enough goodwill to tip the scales on this.” He kisses the back of my knuckles. “Don’t worry, we’ll talk to Thera later tonight.”
He skims the skin of my naked back with his fingertips, my black halter top and leather pants more my style than a wedding dress. “I love you, Lorisha Pari Singh. And not just because you kicked ass out on that lake, or for the courage and patience you show every day.”
“No?”
He flattens a hand over my chest, his thumb dangerously close to brushing my nipple through the thin fabric. “I love your smoking-hot—” I glower at him, but he pecks my neck with a chuckle. “It’s your heart. Your warm, passionate, electric heart.”
I dig my fingers into his blonde locks and tug before giving his scalp a playful knock. “And I love you in spite of your big, stubborn head.”
“Take that back.”
“Kiss me.” I slip my hands under the lapels of his jacket and hide my face in his chest. “She shrivels when you’re near.”
Elio’s brow furrows, and instead of giving in to my demand, he draws back an inch, clearly spooked. “She’s awake?”
“Yes, but barely.” I hate how he’s nervous—and frankly hesitant—to touch me when he knows Iris is lurking around the fringes of my subconscious. “I better get my tea.” My chair creaks as I stand, but Elio follows my lead and wraps an arm around me, his touch gentle but firm, delaying my departure.
