Page 117 of The Last Remaining Light

“I—” She couldn’t form words.

His expression hardened. “No,” he said again, softer now. “No more games, El.”

The nickname pierced straight through her heart. She had heard countless people speak her name in Veylspire. Scholars. Nobles. Councilmen. Admirers.

None of them sounded like him.

None of them ever would.

“You think I crossed half the continent because I was curious about this city?”

His voice had dropped even lower, the sound sending warmth to unfurl through her.

But it was when he leaned down, brushing the tip of his nose along the curve of her neck as he drew in a slow breath, that her composure nearly abandoned her altogether.

“You think I searched this city for you, kept my head down, and climbed the Spire through servant tunnels?” His voice was little more than a murmur against her skin. “That I wandered through a ballroom full of arrogant nobles because I wanted to admire the architecture?”

A breathless laugh escaped her and Caelyn lifted his head. His expression nearly broke her.

By the light of the stars and the Gods that created them, he loved her. Part of her had wondered, but now she understood. She knew. The knowledge crashed through her with terrifying force because suddenly—every letter made sense.

Every lingering look from turnings ago.

Every silence between them that had always felt too full to truly be empty.

And perhaps the cruelest part of all—somewhere deep down, she thought she had always known that she loved him, too.

But she was afraid. Terrified. To admit such things felt like weakness.

“You should not say these things,” she whispered.

“Why?” he demanded softly.

“Because I cannot think properly when you do,” she answered, her voice wavering.

His expression became unguarded. Pained. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Elowynn’s breath hitched as the space between them felt impossibly small now. She could feel heat radiating from him. Could see the restraint trembling beneath his skin.

Not fear. Restraint. For her. Always for her.

“You are terrifying tonight,” she whispered.

A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth. “You find me terrifying now, but not when I was threatening murder?”

That dragged her gaze away and toward the frost spiderwebbing across the stone beneath the window.

“Elowynn,” his voice coaxed. “Look at me.”

She did. And immediately regretted it. The intensity in his eyes threatened to unravel her.

“I am trying very hard not to do something we may both regret right now,” he confessed in a gravelly voice.

“Oh,” she breathed, her chest heaving. “Like what?”

Caelyn stared at her for a long moment. She could see him warring with a decision.

Then slowly—carefully—his hand lifted toward her face.