“Lugh,” I dare to ask, “is something wrong?”
He says nothing.
Perhaps I’ve broken something I can’t fix. Perhaps I should have left it well enough alone.
Lugh waits until the door of our chamber closes behind us to drop his glamour and drag both his hands through his hair. He takes slow, deep breaths as he paces near the bed. His agitation sets me enough on edge that I stay by the door. I withdraw until my back presses firmly against the wood.
Finally, he speaks, and I wish he hadn’t. “I should stay somewhere else tonight.”
It’s as though the ice dams on the rivers have all broken inside my chest at once, shocking me with his cold words and drowning me in misery. “What?”
He tugs hard at his hair and I step forward with a hand out to urge him to stop. The seriousness of his gaze draws me to a halt. “I... I think it would be better if we weren’t together tonight. After what you said out there and all, I don’t... I can’t—”
Fuck. I shouldn’t have said anything. “What do you mean, can’t?”
“I can’t do this anymore!” he bursts out.
I press a hand to my chest. There’s no seax slid into my heart, though it feels as though one should be there. Lugh’s chest and shoulders heave from his desperate breathing, and his eyes are wide with a mixture of emotions I can’t begin to sort through.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and gives up pacing in favor of slumping into one of the chairs. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m a shitty friend. You deserve someone better than me. You deserve someone who can be honest. You were so kind about it back then and I’ve never wanted to make you uncomfortable, so I’ve ignored how I feel, but hearing you tonight, all I could think was how I wish you meant it differently and it’s not fair to put those expectations on you when it’s all on my side.”
Too much in that ramble to break apart. Feelings and expectations and back then? When was back then? “What are you talking about?”
Lugh props his elbow on the table and cradles his head in his hand, watching me with a bitter smile. “Goddess, Keir, I never thought you were stupid until this moment.”
The light insult, delivered so casually, stings. I shake my head and ignore the building hum of magick from the belt. I can’t risk the temptation of escaping this confrontation I’ve been avoiding for too long. Queen Mab’s reminders of my place, of my value, are inescapable. They’re so loud in my head. Only the steady cadence of Lugh’s voice breaks through them at last.
“Please, let me say this once, because I’m so tired of lying to you and I worried you’d take it this way.” Lugh sighs and his free hand, resting on his thigh, clenches into a fist. “You act like everything that goes wrong is your fault, but this is my problem, not yours. And if my saying this means you want to leave the Hunt or our Court, I’ll make sure Mother can’t do anything to you. I’ll protect you from her so you can live the life you want.” His eyes are damp and his voice trembles and for the life of me, I can’t move from this spot, though there’s nothing I want more than to take him in my arms and feel him pressed against me while I try to comfort him. “You’re my best friend. You always will be. And I love you.”
He says it with absolute certainty, almost resignation, and my spinning world grinds to a halt.
He tilts his head a little when I don’t respond and the bitterness of his smile transforms into something sweeter and apologetic. “I love you. It’s my fault I can’t change my feelings for you, and if you never feel the same way about me, it’s okay—”
I am stupid. And a coward. He was always braver than me, always taking running leaps into battle without second-guessing himself. Of course he’d do the same now. It’s past time for me to follow his lead.
“I meant it,” I croak out, interrupting him. “Everything I said in the hall. All I want is to stand beside you for as long as I can because I...”
The words I’m so desperate to say trail off. Queen Mab’s threats still hang over me. But I’m starting to understand what Aage meant. I’m doing her work for her. My own fears of her retaliation against Lugh, my desire to keep him from pain, have caused his injuries. His mother hasn’t dirtied her hands once. I won’t be her weapon any longer.
The lump in my throat remains, no matter how many times I swallow. If I say this, there’s no going back. Neither of us could survive that. Yet he sits there, expecting pain, and remains openhearted and courageous in a way I’ll never know. Instead of looking scared to hear what I say, he looks hopeful.
“I love you too. So much,” I tell him, relief flooding through me when his eyes go wide and the tears spill over his lashes and onto his cheeks. “The gods only know for how long, but I didn’t realize that’s what it was until it started to change. Everything was different and I couldn’t risk losing you.” I take a step toward him, unsure if he wants me to touch him right now, and try to finish my thought. “You’re the only thing in this world worth fighting for.”
Lugh crashes into me, and I stagger back into the door, grasping instinctively to keep him in my arms. He’s laughing with his tearstained face buried against my skin, wetting my shirt, and nothing has ever felt more right. I hug him tighter, pressing my nose against his hair, and the sleek muscles of his back flex when he copies me, his arms squeezing around my shoulders in an effort to close any space left between us.
He keeps murmuring against my neck, some admission he can’t seem to prevent. It spills from him unconscious and uninhibited and unintelligible.
When I finally manage to draw a few inches away from him, he keeps talking, wor
ds low and rough and throbbing with wonderment. “Thought it was just me,” he repeats over and over.
“It wasn’t, Lugh,” I promise.
He gulps for air and it sounds like sobs. “You told me we couldn’t, and I was so afraid if you knew how I felt, how much I’ve always wanted you, still wanted you, you’d leave.”
“I wouldn’t leave,” I say. “I wouldn’t. I would have told you off, maybe punched you if you hadn’t taken the hint, but we would have talked first.”
His laugh is snot-choked and more than a little damp. “Sure. Because we’re so good at talking.”