That night, I climbed the mountain in the dark.

  He was waiting. Of course he was waiting. He always knew.

  I fell into his arms and wept—not the silent, controlled tears I had learned to shed in childhood, but great, heaving sobs that shook my entire body. I wept for my mother, for the woman she had been before the madness took her. I wept for myself, for the child who had never known a mother's love. I wept for the future that stretched before me, empty and cold, full of whispers and elders who saw me as coin to be traded.

  He held me through all of it. Said nothing. Just held me, his arms warm and solid around me, his presence a bulwark against the darkness that threatened to swallow me whole.

  When I finally quieted, when the tears were spent and I lay exhausted against his chest, he spoke.

  "You will not go back to them," he said. It was not a question.

  "I have nowhere else to go."

  He was silent for a long moment. Then he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes—those impossible, star-flecked eyes that held the light of a thousand skies.

  "You have me," he said. "You have always had me. And I will not let them take you, Giana. Not to a merchant. Not to anyone. Do you understand?"

  I nodded, too tired to argue, too worn to question how he could possibly stop the inevitable.

  He was silent for a long moment, his arms still wrapped around me, his chin resting on top of my head. I could feel him thinking—that ancient mind turning over possibilities, calculating, planning.

  "Come," he said finally, his voice shifting into something lighter. Something almost like invitation.

  I pulled back just enough to look at him. "Come where?"

  He smiled—that slow, devastating smile that still made my heart stutter even after all these years.

  "Let me show you, my kingdom."

  I blinked. "What?"

  "You have spent years climbing this mountain to reach me," he said, brushing a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "You have seen the crystal cavern, the star fields, the northern lights from my favorite vantage points. But you have not seen my kingdom. Not truly."

  He stood, pulling me gently to my feet.

  "The mountain is more than these peaks you know," he continued, his eyes bright with something I had rarely seen in them—excitement. "More than the caves and the cliffs and the places I have brought you. There are realms within realms here, Giana. Places where the Aether bleeds through, where the barrier between worlds grows thin. Places where you can see the truth of what I protect."

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  I stared at him, momentarily distracted from my grief. "You've been holding out on me?"

  A laugh escaped him—that same laugh I had first coaxed from him at fourteen, still rare and precious every time I heard it.

  "Perhaps," he admitted. "I wanted to wait until you were ready. Until the timing was right." His expression softened. "And now, with the village whispering and the elders circling like vultures... I think it is time you understood exactly what you would be choosing if you chose to stay with me."

  My heart lurched. "Choosing?"

  He took both my hands in his.

  "If you stay on this mountain with me—truly stay, not just for visits, not just for hours stolen between your life below—there is no going back. The villagers will talk. They will say I have stolen you, or that you have run mad, or worse. The life you have known will be over."

  He squeezed my hands gently.

  "Knowing the elders, they'll probably revive those old Valok stories," I muttered, a weak attempt at humour. "Can you imagine? 'The King finally claimed his virgin sacrifice. We knew it would happen eventually. All that healing was just foreplay.'"

  The sound that came out of him was somewhere between a cough and a strangled laugh—undignified, un-kingly, and absolutely perfect.

  "Giana."

  "What? It's what they'd say. Old Man Hendrick would be insufferably pleased with himself. 'I told you, didn't I? A thousand years of warnings and that a girl just walked right up there and offered herself on a platter.'"

  He was laughing now—actually laughing, his shoulders shaking, his star-flecked eyes bright with amusement.

  "You are impossible," he managed.

  "You're the one who fell in love with me." I grinned despite the tears still drying on my cheeks. "That's on you, Your Majesty."

  He pulled me closer, still chuckling. "I would not change it for anything."

  "But seriously," I said, sobering slightly, "the Valok thing. You know they're going to whisper. Probably already are. 'She climbs that mountain every day, you know. Comes back looking flushed. You do the math.'"

  His expression shifted—amusement warring with something softer. "Does that bother you? What they might say?"

  I thought about it. Really thought about it.

  "The elders have whispered about me my whole life," I said finally. "The daughter of the madwoman. The one who survived when she shouldn't have. They're going to whisper no matter what I do." I shrugged. "At least this way, the story is interesting. 'Virgin sacrifice runs off with mountain creature to avoid being sold to a merchant.' Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

  He shook his head slowly, wonder and fondness mingling in his gaze.

  "You are the most remarkable creature I have ever known."

  "I know." I leaned up and kissed him quickly. "But keep telling me. I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing it."

  When I pulled back, his expression had grown serious again—but not sad. Intent.

  "In exchange for that lost life," he said quietly, "I can offer you something no one else can. A world most mortals only glimpse in dreams. A purpose greater than survival."

  He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice dropped to something warm and sure, a promise carved from the very fabric of eternity.

  "And—a love that will outlast the stars."

  I opened my mouth—probably to make another joke, because that was how I handled feelings I didn't have words for—but nothing came out. Just a shaky breath, and tears I refused to let fall, and a heart so full I thought it might burst.

  "That's quite an offer," I whispered.

  "Only the best for you."

  I nodded, not trusting my voice.

  "Show me," I managed. "Show me your kingdom."

  He smiled—brighter than the northern lights, warmer than the hidden fires at the mountain's core.

  "Close your eyes."

  I obeyed. I felt his arms wrap around me, felt the world shift, felt the mountain itself seem to breathe around us.

  When I opened my eyes, we were standing somewhere else entirely.

  His Kingdom.