Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(84)
“I can hear what is on your mind, my love. I can feel your strength, I know that you do not need this.”
“Then why give it to me?”
“Because it is cold outside,” he said as he gathered up the material, ready to help me into it. I pursed my lips as he held it up to me. I knew that wasn’t his only reason. I could hear the secret in his voice, see the caution behind his eyes.
I sighed and lowered my head as he moved the fabric around the braid, careful not to disrupt any of his artwork as he placed the sweater over my head.
“Why else?” I asked as I emerged from the mass of fabric, unsurprised to see the corner of Ilyan’s lips turn up, his eyes still avoiding mine.
“This braid is my gift to you, my Joclyn. It is a piece of my heart and soul, and meant only for you. The hood will help you keep that sacred until the time is right to tell the world.” His eyes ran over the braid before meeting mine, the softness of the blue like a billowing cloud that I found myself getting lost in.
I nodded my head once in understanding, knowing that he was right. Right now, this moment was just between us.
“I will be with you, my love.”
“Until the end,” I whispered as the mischievous light from his eyes seeped into me.
He pulled the braid from the neckline, the long string of golden ribbon sliding up my back as he pulled out the full length. I had thought I had gotten it all when I had changed shirts, but apparently not; the strand stretched all the way to the floor.
I pulled at the long, golden ribbon, the texture soft as it flowed over the palm of my hand, like feathers and wind, the golden surface glinting as it came in contact with my magic.
“That is the délka vedení královského,” Ilyan whispered, his hand moving to run the length of the ribbon right along mine.
“The what?”
“Come here,” Ilyan whispered, his hand wrapping around mine as he led me to the bathroom where the large, ornate mirrors stood above the sink. He turned me around, tilting one of the mirrors enough that I could see the braid that Ilyan had placed in my hair, my jaw dropping in disbelief at what I was seeing.
My hair had been turned into a bouquet of roses. Rose buds of woven hair shot off from the braid, the ribbons winding together to make each delicate flower, and the golden ribbon intertwined through all of them, the string touching every part of the braid he had given me.
“It’s beautiful,” I gasped, knowing that the word was not enough to convey what I truly saw.
“Each flower is my vow to you,” he said, his finger trailing over each one, his fingers soft as if he was touching antique china, which I guess in some ways he was.
“My heart,” he said as he brushed the first rose. “My soul,” he said as his fingers moved to the next one. “My devotion, my life,” he finished as his fingers touched each one before moving to the golden ribbon that moved through my hair so completely I wasn’t sure how he had gotten it into the intricate braid.
“And the délka vedení královského—the length of the royal line. This ribbon is one of two, wound from fibers of gold mined below Prague. It is the sign of your position of power. What you now mean to me and to my people.” His fingers continually moved over the ribbon, his touch so soft I could barely feel it.
“The king and queen are to wear the délka vedení královského every day, and I will bind it in your hair every morning… so that everyone will know,” his arms wrapped around my waist as his fingers left the braid, pulling me against him as our eyes met through the mirror, “that you are my queen. My life.”
My heart thumped wildly in my chest at the thought as the deep reality of what had happened hit me. Queen. The thought was like ice and adrenaline, the combination sending my heart into palpitations so fast that I was sure Ilyan would notice.
I stared at him through the mirror, the light in his eyes calming me as the love I felt for him flared.
I had bound myself to Ilyan, and I would do it again because I loved him. I had not bound myself to his title, however, his title was an integral part of him, and I loved that side of him as much as I loved the side that he only showed to me. I would take this on me because it was worth it, because he was worth it. Because I loved him.
“Where is yours?” I asked, my voice shaking as the last of my anxiety left me. “Your délka vedení královskéh,” I said, knowing I messed up the pronunciation somehow.
Ilyan’s lips twitched through the mirror before he kneeled down behind me, his fingers unwinding the long string from where he had concealed it around his ankle.
He held the mass of golden ribbon out to me as he stood. The ribbon tangled and crinkled in places, making it obvious that he had hidden it there for centuries. I knew at once why; it was the same as when he had cut his hair. He had been hiding something that he wasn’t sure he would ever have. Except he had it now.
I looked at it carefully, my fingers fluttering above the ribbon before I took it in my hand, the length still warm from being against his skin.
I said nothing as I grabbed his hand, my grip light as I led him to the bed, my eyes pleading with him before he sat, his hair growing in anticipation of what I was about to do.
I crawled over the bed to kneel behind him, the golden ribbon held tightly in my hand as I leaned against his back.