for the lives i've dreamed

"Losing me?" you echoed. You stepped over the contents of your life and he did not move from the doorway. "Rhys, what are you talking about? You know this is temporary."

"Temporary. Right."

It was. Of course it was. There was no world where you could leave and stay gone, but you needed to leave. For a little while. Just until your family had everything squared away. Just until your father would stop sending you letters, begging you to marry a man you refused to.

"Rhys. It is. I swear to you. I don't want to go back, but—"

"Then don't." His eyes were glistening as he finally made his way toward you, expression pulling taut as he held your face in his hands. "Don't go. They treat you terribly. They will force you into things. You've told me before that you feel responsible, and I know you—"

"I won't—"

"I know that it feels like you won't give in now. But once you get there? I remember how things were after you first left. I can't—you know I can't come. I can't be there for you."

"That would make it political," you nodded. You clutched at Rhysand's fingers. "I know. We've spoken about this at length, my love. I will go, ensure my sisters are taken care of, explain to my father that I will not comply with his ridiculous requests, and then I'll check on the house staff. That is all."

Rhysand repeated your last three words, whispering them into the night.

You gave him a reassuring smile.

He dragged a thumb down and traced your throat. "If they hurt you—" he began, eyes darkening. "—I will make this political."

Your smile turned into a line. "I don't think they will. Things are different now," you quietly offered. "I have you."

"You do have me." His forehead met yours. "So come back."

"A couple of days. Just the week."

"Azriel will come with you."

"He will not."

"It would ease my mind."

You drew back and raised a brow. "And it would cause havoc in my household. I can lay low, Rhys. I can do this."

He hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a fleeting semblance of a smile. His thumb hadn't left the column of your throat, smoothing soft lines into your skin. He looked at you as if you were going to war, and he was the only one in the room to ever accomplish such a feat. You were nothing more than a nobleman's daughter.