In the Wake of the Ruined (The Siren Mage, #2)(120)
A wide smile spread over my face as my attention snapped to the open door. I bolted inside and froze.
He was there, setting new logs atop the fire. He wore his traveling clothes—the same he’d worn when we’d first trekked north together. A brown linen shirt, worn-down trousers in a darker shade. He stood and clapped the soot from his hands.
“You’re early,” I said, breathless.
Theodore whirled. “Gods.” He looked suddenly afflicted, a hand to his chest. “I am.” He stayed where he was. Both of us did. Simply staring. “I expect you’ll do this every time I look at you…”
“What?” I whispered.
“Steal my air.”
I smiled and watched him, unable to believe, unable to fully accept my good fortune.
“The ship came in three days ago,” he finally said. “The meetings with the other islands’ rulers went very well. I told the new parliament members the same. Then I left.”
The fire behind him popped. Crates of his things were stacked beside the walls. “There’s more to do, though, isn’t there?” I asked, still clouded by disbelief. “Things to oversee, papers to sign, and plans to make for the election?”
He nodded. “They can all be done from here. Or by others.” A half-smile snuck over his lips. “I’m no longer the king, Imogen. Genevreer is no longer my home.” He took a moment to swallow back his emotion. “So I, for the first time in my life, can do whatever I want.”
With each word, he’d taken a step nearer. A stunning smile spread across his face as he came. The main room of the cottage was spacious, cool, and dark from the setting sun, but he seemed to fill up every inch of it with a soft, warming glow.
He came close and wrapped one arm around my waist. His other hand sank into the hair over my neck. “And what I want to do right now, Imogen, is marry you.” Too slowly, he lowered his lips to mine, but never touching. “What do you say?”
I felt like I’d caught aflame. I was incandescent, awash in the sweetness of surprise. In a rush, I closed the little distance between us, letting our lips fully meet. Letting the hard feeling of his body, the softness of his kisses, the arresting scent and sensations of him overwhelm me. It was the first kiss we’d shared that I could enjoy without the lurking worry of it being our last.
His teeth scraped my lips as we finally parted. The song of evening birds lulled us through the still-open door; the warmth of the hearth rolled through the room. I took his hand in mine and led him toward it. He watched me, looking wistfully starry and rapt, as I lowered myself before the flames and gazed up at him.
He’d told me once that loving me would not be the end of all things, but the beginning. He’d been wrong, though, in part, for so many things had needed to end—to fade and die and fall—so something new could start.
A smile dimpled his cheek as he lowered himself to his knees in front of me. He pulled his dagger free. “In front of the fire.”
I held up my open palm, offering it to him unreservedly. “Just like last time.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wasn’t sure this book would ever get written.
When In the Veins of the Drowning went out to editors, I knew there was a very real possibility that it wouldn’t sell, wouldn’t get published, and therefore neither would its second book. So I held it loosely, making sure it would be easy to let go of if such circumstances arose.
But my debut did sell, and when the emotional warp of sending a book out into the world began, my worry of Will I ever get to write this book? quickly became How do I write this book when readers are expecting it and there is this new unfamiliar pressure on me and I am so weary from making and feeling and going, going, going?
While it was, in part, relentlessness that saw this book finished, the feat was mostly accomplished because of the unwavering support of the people listed on this page.
To Doug, always, you are my partner when seas are fair and when they are dizzyingly rough. How lucky I am to have you to go journeying with. And to my children, who have filled our little ship with the best and brightest moments I have ever known.
To my mom, Lynn. Because of you I know what kindness and joy are. Thank you for being you, for your constant support, for loving so fully.
To my agent, Sheyla Knigge, who celebrates every win and helps me keep my chin up when I want to drop it. I am so grateful for your sparkly delusion and how it helps light me up.
To my powerhouse of an editor, Julia DeVarti. Thank you for reading the first draft of this book and I’m so sorry for it. You saw what I was trying to make and helped guide me down paths I couldn’t yet see.
To my incomparable team at Little, Brown: Gabrielle Leporati, Kayleigh George, Kirin Diemont, Tessa Keefe, Linda Arends, Sally Kim, and everyone else whose expertise and hard work has helped make this story better. I am blown away. I am so grateful. To my lovely UK editor at Gollancz, Millie Prestige, thank you for helping my winged siren soar.
To Rachel Gillig, mon amie. You understand my despair, my elation, and every chaotic emotion I might have in between. When I doubt myself, you don’t. When I feel off-kilter, you make me feel a little straighter. I am the luckiest frog.
To Caitlin Poole and Ginger Swan. Would I have survived this past year without you? Certainly not! Thank you for diving deep with me, for endless encouragement, for always meeting me where I am and reminding me it’s OK to be there.