A Shadow and a Storm

And it was in that high, with the sun beating down on the back of my neck and my exhaustion giving everything a dreamlike quality, that it happened. Ren turned away from the crowd and gave me a private, carefree smile, his eyes sparkling. He was so close and real and happy, and so I leaned in and brushed my lips against his, savouring his spicy warmth.

I realised my mistake instantly.

Valeri sucked in a sharp breath, Kolya muttered 'what the actual fuck?', and the noise of the crowd muted fractionally in confused hesitation. I pulled back and caught Ren's wide-eyed stare.

I could still salvage this. Ren had had his back to most of our audience which meant they wouldn't have had a clear view of what had occurred, and it had all happened so quickly. I could play it off as having stumbled into him, or muttered something into his ear, or a dozen things that weren't me kissing the Blessed king of Quareh. He'd understand whatever excuse I used: we were both well used to the charades we had to play to keep us a secret.

All I had to do was say something.

But.

My breath roared loudly in my ears. I was acutely aware of every thump of my heartbeat, impossibly fast.

I thought about it. Thought about it some more. And for Val's sake, thought about it again.

And then I cupped Ren's face between my hands, brought my mouth to his, and kissed him properly. Slow and deep and utterly incapable of misinterpretation.

I felt him initially stiffen with surprise, but when his arms folded around my waist and pulled me closer to him, I lost myself in his touch, scent, taste. He kissed me back with sweet ferocity, melding us into one, and the world around us faded into insignificance. There was just him and me, and everything we conveyed to each other in that moment without the need for words.

For the way I saw it, there were three possible outcomes of the shitstorm we found ourselves in.

One, the news of my father's death finally met the Temarians' ears after two days of my luck miraculously holding out that, and the locals' distaste for engaging with invading foreigners even for the sake of sharing juicy gossip and they killed me. Not a great happily ever after for anyone except Valeri fucking Velichkov.

Two, I managed to achieve the impossible by convincing Mathias to help me and that crazy seer witch execute my plan to leverage my freedom, which, if it worked, would see me back in my palace and him still firmly in the position of pretending to be straight as the northern army dragged him and its dirty, trespassing feet back to Temar.

Three, the fucker's obstinacy won out, and I was ransomed back to my people despite my best efforts and vehement complaints. Jiron may be obeying my orders for now, but if Mat could convince him that it was the only way to save my life, I expected I'd have little choice in the matter. And like the second option, that one resulted in Mathias being returned home and me being whisked off to Máros to swear vengeance on palace-stealing fuckwits who happened to share the same blue-grey storm cloud eyes as my forbidden lover.

"Nathanael-"

"Give him time," Petra pleaded, and my brother nodded stiffly before whispering something into her hair. I slipped away, swapping the tent for the rain to give them privacy.

But his murmured words to his wife echoed in my head as I wandered back through the pre-dawn camp alone.

A thousand hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you, my darling.

And then, I'm so sorry.

"I love you, Nathanael."

"Ren," he breathed, trying to pull my face free so he could look me in the eye or some shit, but I clung on obstinately, still too much of a coward to face him.

And then I realised the awkward position I'd put him in with my declaration. "You don't have to say it back," I said quickly. "It's alright if you don-"

"I love you too," Mathias said.

I blinked, startled enough that he was able to get his fingers under my chin and raise it to meet his gaze. Blue-grey eyes bore into mine, delight and affection dancing in their depths. Nothing on the continent could get this man to say or do something he didn't want to, so that meant...

"You... do?"

"I do."

"Just like that. You love me."

Telling someone they're beautiful? That I could do.

Praising their skill in bed? Only fair.

But these raw, vulnerable words were something else, a piece of my heart given freely when I hadn't thought I had enough of the wretched thing to spare. Sentiment I had never uttered for fear it would be casually disregarded.

More than that... I'd never said it because it had never before been true.

But with Mathias, the missing piece of my fucking soul, it was more than true. It just was. I was a slave to my emotions: the need, the joy, the possessiveness, the love... all of it twisting around inside, reforging me into something new and unstoppable.