“Are you all right?” Rakos’s cheek presses against the side of Bell’s head. He trembles inside and feels Bell trembling too. “Please be all right.”
Bell clutches him back. “I’m all right. Now that you’re here.”
“Low standards,” Rakos says with a breathless laugh.
“The highest,” Bell says, and drags Rakos into a kiss.
Messy, desperate. Bell’s hands are harsh in Rakos’s hair. Teeth dig into Rakos’s lip. Rakos holds Bell carefully, unwilling to hurt him but equally unwilling to allow even an inch of space between them.
Rakos has his beloved back. He has his dragon. Everything is right in the world.
Well. Perhaps a few problems remain.
Rakos coughs and pulls himself away enough to look Bell in the eyes. He has to hold Bell down by the shoulders to prevent another distracting kiss.
“Your Highness?”
“Yes?” Bell answers naturally. After a moment’s delay, Bell’s eyes widen, then narrow. He jabs his finger into Rakos’s chest. “Don’t you dare call me that.”
Bell’s reflexive response and lack of confusion confirm Vana and Sarka’s allegations. Rakos takes a deep breath, still holding Bell’s shoulders. “Bellamy Sandry, huh? I can’t believe your identity is even less convenient than mine. No wonder you never sang for me.”
“I’m a terrible singer, yes.”
“How exactly did the tent collapse at the equinox festival?” Rakos grins. “And how exactly did Merry’s lute break?”
Bell scratches behind his ear, clearly embarrassed. “I moved the tree roots under the tent poles, and I warped the wood of the lute.”
“What about those blackberries?”
“Forget the fucking blackberries.” Bell grabs Rakos by the face, bringing him down so their noses nearly touch. He fixes Rakos with a stern glare. “Do you remember how understanding I was about your little deception? Do you remember how generous I was in my forgiveness?”
Rakos’s heart thuds. “I’ll remember every moment we’ve shared for the rest of my life.”
“This changes nothing,” Bell pleads with a raw, desperate look in his eyes. “Tell me this changes nothing.”
Rakos looks at Bell. Really looks. Dark circles around his eyes. Soft hair in disarray. A stubborn set to his jaw. He still looks damn good in Rakos’s coat.
Bellamy Sandry is the same man Rakos has known this entire journey. The same man Rakos fell in love with despite claiming at every step that he wouldn’t. Brave, curious, the most loving man Rakos has ever met. A far better actor than Rakos, and Rakos knows exactly how much of a burden that deception is.
There’s one difference Rakos can’t help fixating on. The risk Bell took in traveling to Park was far greater than Rakos knew—yet Bell never hesitated.
Rakos doesn’t love Bell any less for that. He can only love him more.
“It changes a few things,” Rakos says. “But nothing important.”
Bell’s breath hitches. “Thank you.” He loops his arms around Rakos’s neck. Raises his head and—
Stone screeches behind Rakos.Human mating rituals are so peculiar. Why so much talking?
From the way Bell flushes, he hears Sarka’s projection too. “Sorry, Sarka. Um. We should probably leave. I heard Irenka calling for her dragon.
Yes, Miklan is approaching. We should probably proceed with all due haste.
Rakos kisses Bell’s shoulder, his heart clenching at the wince of pain on Bell’s face.
“Where are we going?” Bell asks. Bastard blinks to his shoulder, then to Rakos’s, then detours to Sarka’s head before the carry pouch shifts with the increased weight.
Rakos grabs Bell by the hand and leads him towards Sarka. “Same plan as before. I drop you off in Silaise and hope your brothers don’t kill me.”