The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(111)
As Owen left the steps and his boots crunched into the sand, he spied a pair of sandals. Smiling to himself, he squatted to pick them up, arranging them in the crook of his finger. The breeze was warm and sunny and ruffled his hair pleasantly. There were two knights guarding the top of the steps, but no one else was on the beach. As he trudged through the sand, trying to see her, the sun shone off the water, blindingly bright.
As he came closer to the water’s edge, the sand changed to the small beads of smooth glass. He stopped to scoop up a handful and toyed with them with his thumb before dumping the pile back down. Then he looked up and saw her. Sinia was circling a hulking boulder, but she came to a sudden stop at the sight of him crouching there. Her hand went to her breast and she started to tremble.
Owen felt a throb of love inside his chest that was almost painful. He rose and sauntered toward her, dangling the sandals out before him.
“You left these behind,” he said with a light tone. A wave crashed nearby, creating a spume as it spread along the flat beach. It was about to reach her bare feet before it lost energy and began to recede.
Sinia approached, her eyes alight with hope, her mouth on the verge of a smile.
Owen tossed the sandals aside, walked up to her, and took her hands, holding them before him. “Sinia Montfort,” he said softly, breathing her name like a prayer. “Will you be mine still? Will you let me kiss you as a husband should? Will you walk with me along this beach and teach me how to please you, how to woo you? Will you be mine from this day forth? My friend and my confidante, my lover and my wife, my companion and my solace. I’m so weary of being alone.” He felt his confidence rattling, his heart nearly bursting. “Can you forgive my imperfections? My sharp words when we first met? Can you forgive me for being tempted to betray you? But I did not. Will you let me give you a soul so that you may be one with me, so that we may have children who are as beautiful as you are?” Owen sighed. “You are truly a blessing from the Fountain, and I feel unworthy to claim your affection. But may I claim it all the same? Will you consent to be my wife?”
Tears ran down her cheeks, and the smile she gave him was so radiant he thought he would break inside.
“Yes,” she answered, then flung herself into his arms, hugging him so tightly it amazed him how her little fingers could inflict pain. He held her to him, stroking the softness of her hair, feeling her body so near.
He tipped up her chin and looked down at her face, at the longing in her sunshine eyes. He lowered his head, his mouth just barely above hers.
“Nesh-ama,” he whispered before he kissed her mouth. The magic of the Fountain began to swell inside him. It rose like thunder, swelling and building and exploding inside him as his magic imbued her with a mortal soul, the breath of life.
He felt the next wave engulf their ankles, the sucking of the sand beneath their feet as it receded. She gasped with delight at the sensation, digging her fingers into his unruly hair. The magic filled her completely, and Owen felt his energy drain as it always did after giving the breath of life. He was falling, spent and helpless as a babe, but Sinia held him against her as he blacked out.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Confession
He awoke to the sensation of Sinia kissing his eyelids. He felt as exhausted as if he’d swum around the world. His head was in her lap, and he was stretched out on the beads of glass, soaking in the warmth of the sun and feeling quite drowsy and content.
Energy began to fill him as well as the magic of the Fountain. He had been drained completely, but he felt her sharing her reserves, uniting their magic together. To his amazement, he was quickly restored to his full strength, though hers was hardly diminished.
He blinked his eyes open, seeing the wind teasing golden strands of hair across her face. She brushed them aside and looked down at him with so much love and tenderness he felt unequal to it.
“You are beautiful,” he murmured, reaching up and touching her lips. She kissed his fingertip.
“I’ve always loved you, Owen Kiskaddon,” she confessed. “I saw this moment so many times in my visions. You loving me, truly loving me. When you first came to Ploemeur, I’ll admit it was a disappointment.” She smiled wryly at him. “But it was worth waiting for.”
Owen smiled. He had rarely felt so languid and relaxed, and he utterly enjoyed being cradled against her. He lifted himself slowly and then pressed his ear to her bosom, listening against the sound of the surf for her heartbeat. There it was. She looked shyly at him, smiling, and then nodded.
“I am mortal now,” she said. “Not every Ondine gets her wish. Few do, actually. But I’m one of the fortunate.” She smoothed his hair over his ear.
Owen sat up higher and kissed her again, taking it slowly, enjoying it much more than their rushed, awkward kiss at the betrothal. He started to pull away, and he felt flush with pleasure when he realized she didn’t want him to. “I’m embarrassed by my memory of our first kiss at St. Penryn. My apologies for not being more practiced.”
She smiled knowingly. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”
Owen grinned. “I can imagine it was different for you as well,” he added with a chuckle. “This was our true first kiss—the one you saw in your visions. That must have been very confusing for you, to know what would happen but not always how. Or when.”