The sun had climbed higher, spilling golden light through the narrow window of the study, warming the stone walls and chasing the last shadows from the corners of the room. The fire was dead, the embers cold, but neither Kaelen nor Rosalind noticed the chill. They sat together on the window seat, his arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest, their bodies pressed close as if they had become one being, one heart, one soul.
The tears had dried, leaving salt-stained paths on both their cheeks. The anger had been spoken and released, dissipating like morning mist before the rising sun. The fear had been named and faced, and in the facing, it had lost much of its power. The love had been reaffirmed, stronger than ever, unshaken by the storms that had tried to tear them apart.
But there was still one more thing to say.
