He tucked a lock of her hair caught in the morning breeze behind her ear, tracing the shell with his fingers. She shivered.
"Will you marry me there, my love?" he asked so sweetly her stomach fluttered.
She placed her hand under his coat on his heart to feel the strong beat. "Yes. I will marry you there."
"Good." He smiled.
The distant howl of a hart wolf pulled their attention to the east.
"Did you get your letter away?" she asked, remembering why he'd gone to Hiddleston in the first place.
"Yes. I expect we'll hear back from Marius and Arabelle in two weeks' time. I just hope he doesn't change his mind before then."
"He won't."
After Allora and Dane had buried their brother somewhere in the heart of Silvane Forest with the burial rites of their clan, Dane approached them one evening to tell them he would join the Black Lily. Sienna had seen that look in a man's eyes before. In Nikolai's when he vowed vengeance against Volkov. Dane needed justice for his brother's death. And the Black Lily needed strong, powerful men like him. The fact that he could shift into a vicious, deadly hart wolf at any moment was an advantage they'd keep between themselves and Marius and Arabelle for now.
Allora and Bron had come by every evening at dusk in wolf form since the battle in the forest. They patrolled and watched for another invasion from the Glass Tower. But none came. Their sunset visits at the cottage served to say all was well.
"I hope Riker is healing well there."
"Marius will be sure he gets all the care he needs." Nikolai was silent a moment, his heart heavy ever since they'd put Riker on a ship with Ivan two weeks ago. "I did receive other news while in Hiddleston."
"What is it?"
"King Dominik's wife Queen Lana died in childbirth. It was a son."
Sienna gasped. "No."
"A stillborn son." He squeezed her reassuringly with a brush of his lips at her temple. "So it seems you needn't fear your prophetic nightmare, love."
Sienna nodded, but didn't feel any relief in the death of the northern queen and her infant son. She sighed heavily, turning her thoughts back to Queen Morgrid. "Why don't you think the queen has gathered her forces and attacked again?"
"From a military standpoint, I'd say she knows there is a formidable force living here in the forest that she doesn't yet understand." He tipped her chin up with one finger and traced the line of her jaw. "The Legionnaires who escaped will tell her of the red witch setting flame to her enemies as if she were burning parchment. As long as we remain here, you are protected. By the hart wolves, by the forest, by me … and by you."
"But we can't stay here forever. Arabelle needs us."
"No," he replied, taking her hand and guiding her toward the cottage. "We'll wait for word from Cutters Cove. Then we'll join the fight again. Friedrich suspects there may be allies among his people in the north. He plans to discover where his uncle and the queen are hiding and building his army through enslaving entire villages."
"I hope he finds them."
"He will. Friedrich may seem all charm and good looks, but the man is resourceful. He mentioned a spy around his castle, a schoolteacher, who may actually be on the side of the Black Lily. But he isn't sure and must be cautious with his uncle always on the watch."
"Well, till we're needed, we'll stay here," she said on a sigh.
A pang of dread settled in her gut. The last time she'd left the forest, she'd been burned at the stake. Nikolai squeezed her hand and stopped in the doorway. Wrapping his fingers around her nape, he perused her face in a slow sweep, his intensity speeding her heartrate.
"Your life will never be in danger again," he ground out with such strength, she shivered. "I will not allow it. Never. Again."
The pain Nikolai had endured when she'd died in his arms was more than she could fathom. She couldn't imagine the agony she would feel if harm ever came to him.
"I will shove a blade down death's fucking throat, and I"-he squeezed her nape, edging her closer till his lips were a hairsbreadth away-"I will always take care of you."
She did not argue or protest such a promise, for if there was anyone who could stare death in the face and defy its mere existence, it was Nikolai. She gentled him with a soft kiss and a sweep of her fingers into his hair.
"And I will take care of you."
"I know you will, my fire witch," he said adoringly. Then more softly, "My love."