"I could," Dageus said quietly.
Chloe blinked, looking confused and a bit wounded.
Dageus kissed her tenderly. "I've been wanting to ask you this for so long, but I feared I may not have a future to promise you. I do now. Will you marry me, Chloe-lass? Here, at this moment, in the Druid way?"
*****
And so commenced one of the most thrilling hours of Silvan MacKeltar's life. He sat across from the queen of the Tuatha Dé Danaan and renegotiated terms. It was fascinating; it was frustrating because she would tell him nothing of herself; it was exhilarating. She was clever, and immensely powerful, tenfold what he'd sensed in the Draghar.
There was no need to ask that the power of the stones be removed from their duties, for he'd felt them close shortly after Dageus had left. The ancient circle of stones had felt abruptly dead. Void of energy, left with a mere brush of presence that made them seem slightly more there than the surrounding landscape. When he inquired about it, she merely said that she'd reconsidered the Keltar's duties.
They squabbled a bit—he squabbled with the queen!—over a few minor points. Mostly because it was rather like a game of chess and finessing for the advantage was as much a part of her nature as it was his.
Gold was required, the amount unimportant, the queen told him, as it was simply a token, to be melted and added to the original Compact. Naught else was at hand, so he pledged the ring Nellie had given him on their wedding day.
Though she'd steadfastly refused to answer any of his questions about their race, she advised him that henceforth she would personally attend one Keltar in every generation so they would never lose sight of their place in things again.
And so The Compact was pledged anew and the responsibility of the stones was bid a grateful farewell, to be suffered again only on the day—and Silvan hoped it would not come for a very, very long time—that man discovered such dangerous secrets on his own.
When all was done and the queen had vanished, Silvan went in search of Nellie.
He had so much to tell her, yet first, there was an entirely different matter weighing heavily on his mind. In that moment he'd thought he was dying, he'd realized what a fool he'd been. He had to try. He had to at least offer, and let Nellie choose whether or not she wanted him forever.
He found her in their bedchamber, fluffing the pillows, preparing for bed. In his eyes, there was no woman more beautiful. In his heart, there was none more perfect.
"Nellie," he said softly.
She glanced up and smiled. It was a smile that said she loved him, a smile that beckoned him to join her in their bed.
Hurrying to her side, he plucked the pillow from her hand and tossed aside. He wanted her full attention.
And now that he had it, he found himself unaccountably nervous. He cleared his throat. He'd prepared, he'd rehearsed a dozen times what he was going to say, but now that the moment had come, now that he was gazing into her lovely eyes, it all seemed to have fled his mind. He ended up beginning rather badly.
"I'm going to die before you," he said flatly.
Nell gave a little snort of laughter and patted him reassuringly. "Och, Silvan, where do ye come up with yer—"
"Hush." He laid a gentle finger against her lips and kept it there.
Her eyes widened and she gazed at him inquiringly.
"The odds that I will die before you, Nellie, are significant. I would not have you grieve me. I ne'er offered my first wife the binding vows because she was not my mate, and I knew it. I ne'er offered them to you because you are my mate, and I knew it." He paused, searching for the right words. Her eyes were huge and round and she'd gone very still.
"That is without a doubt the most discombobulated bit of logic ye've e'er spouted, Silvan," she finally whispered against his finger.
"I couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone, bound to me."
She took his finger from her lips and slipped her hand into his. "I could bear any number of years, Silvan, if I know we'll meet again."
"Do you mean that? Truly?"
"How could ye doubt it? Have I not shown ye my love?"
Och, in so many ways, he thought, exhilarated. And it was nigh time he show her his. Gently, Silvan placed his hand between her breasts, above her heart, and rested his other above his own. "Place your hands atop mine."
She glanced down at his hand and her eyes narrowed. "What happened to yer ring?"
" 'Tis no band of simple metal that holds us together, Nellie. 'Tis something far greater than that. As to what happened to my ring, I gave it to the queen of the Tuatha Dé Danaan when she came and told me Dageus was alive and well, and free at last."
"What?" Nellie gasped.
"I'll tell you all anon." Silvan said impatiently. Now that he'd made up his mind to take the binding vows, he was desperate for her answer. He didn't want to waste another moment. He was frantic to claim her, lest something awful happen, like his heart give out before he could complete the vows. "Will you be saying the words after me, lass?"