Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

56

In a person's life, moments slip by in the thousands like grains of sand through an hourglass, few of them remarkable. The days pass by, minute by minute, hour by hour, grain by grain, with the focus ever on the future: finish this, plan for that, save those worries for tomorrow.

Every now and then, however, one of those moments will catch, will hold, and a universe will unfold in the space of a breath. Such was the moment when Matei leaned in to kiss Mhera.

The secret she had spoken of, which weighed on her conscience and kept her from sleep, was this: she loved him.

She loved him, and she had no idea how to tell him when she knew he did not and could not love her. As she sat for breathless seconds, torn between leaving his room and staying as he'd asked, she had tried to work up the courage to tell him. There would be a relief in unburdening herself, but she was terrified of changing the way things were between them.

This was no girlhood infatuation, no tentative courtship. She and Matei were triply bound: as co-rulers of the realm, as blood-bound companions, and as husband and wife. Were she to damage the way things were between them, she would make of their complex relationship something unbearably awkward and difficult. It was not a change to be wrought lightly, not a secret to be unthinkingly revealed.

And yet, the way he had spoken had given her a wild, desperate hope that perhaps he felt the same. And so she had closed her eyes, her pulse racing, only half sure what she was doing or what she expected.

It was foolish. She knew it. But the hope lodged itself in her throat, preventing her from speaking, from breathing, even, and before she could change her mind, she felt his lips on hers.

The emotion that swept over her was painful in its urgency and unbearably sweet. Before she could think how to properly respond, Matei's hand had come to rest on her cheek. His fingers slid back into her hair; cupping her head, he broke the kiss, but he did not move away. For a moment they sat, eyes closed, foreheads gently touching.

Mhera raised her hand, her fingers coming to rest on Matei's forearm. She dared to open her eyes, and when she did, she saw his eyes still closed, his lips slightly parted, and the unsteady rhythm of his breath tickled her cheek. There were words somewhere, things she might say to express affection, or apology, or hope, but before her mind could settle on a course of action, her heart moved her body, and she leaned in to kiss him again.

His response was immediate and tender, and it stole her breath away. That moment spun on, an eternity of perfect bliss, and the world outside that private room was forgotten.

When at last they broke the kiss again, she could not help but smile. She caught his eye, and he smiled too, an expression that lit up his face and made her heart sing.

"Thank the goddess for that," Matei whispered. He continued, and Mhera spoke at the same time, so that they stumbled over one another.

"I didn't know—"

"I had thought—I was afraid—"

Mhera fell silent, and so did he, but it was not an awkward silence; it was a comfortable moment of quiet, a moment of understanding. Then, Mhera asked, "Why didn't you tell me, Matei?"

He shook his head, still grinning. "I could ask you the same thing. It was...complicated."

Mhera turned her head, unthreading his fingers from her hair with the motion, and kissed his palm. "Now I feel like a fool."

"I do, too. Yet neither of us should feel foolish. This was a risk."

"But we're of a mind?"

In response, he leaned in again, touching his lips to the corner of her smiling mouth. "Tell me your mind, and let's see if we are," he said.