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“There is a place in an empty wing of the palace. Its gardens are overgrown as the earl’s rooms have stood empty for years. When it gets dark, wait four hours. Do not let anyone see you.”
Iros would not tell her what waited there.
Who waited there?
She thought perhaps he had arranged for Ivan to see her after all - and she’d resolved she would not fall asleep.
A feeling came over her, something like dread, as she left her room.
Val looked around for anyone who would be tasked with keeping watch over her room. An unknown place in an unknown land, it seemed that the only person on her side here was the templar. And he had been mysterious and vague.
Gods, but please do not be a terrible trick he played.
The man’s face kept coming to mind. The memory of their meeting was clear as day. She wished that these reminders of the past would go and leave her to her peace. Every one and all of the memories devastated her, as if they tore the healing wound thread by thread each time.
Turn down the hall and past the weeping statue of a woman.
She followed the path, reciting what he’d told her. Watching for any signs that she may miss and get horribly lost.
Take only hallways that have arches only on one side, the ones that lead into gardens and courtyards in the open air.
Why had Iros been so secretive?
Why not trust her after what she had revealed?
A dried-up fountain where the creeping fig vines have swallowed it nearly whole.
She thanked the gods that the moon had been so bright that night. She thanked the gods that there were so many open windows to let in its light.
Wait at the eastern side of it, do not stray lest you be found.
Her heart would not still, the unknown looming just ahead.
She strolled to the right of it, pulling up the skirts of her new white dress where the soil had been exposed. The abandoned garden was but a small patch of greedy plants crawling over the stone walls and archways.
It smelled of honeysuckle here, although less intentional than the jasmine had been in other parts of the palace. Wild, with a will of its own. From every side it had been surrounded by colonnades covering them from the sun of day.
Her gut told her that there was another presence there.
A shiver ran up her spine.
Her eyes ran across the shadows of the columns. They searched among the creepers, each winding vine making what was beyond uncertain..
She flinched as her eyes stopped on a shadow darker than the rest.
Very suddenly, Val felt that she had been there before.
Perhaps it was in a dream? But that could not be, not here.
And yet, something was so familiar that the thought ate at her bones.
It was an outline, a figure in the shadows of the open walkways. But it was the same height and the same span of shoulder. It was the same one she had seen out of the peripheral of her eye wherever she went, for years, just to turn around and find that it had been a trick of light on a tree trunk, branches swaying in the wind, or shadow cast against a wall.
“Please gods, stop playing with my mind, were the years not enough? Had I not stared into the eyes of my soul’s death in every waking moment, day in and day out?”
She whispered so quietly so that the night itself would not hear her. Her hands grew cold. She had not seen the ghost in so long, her dreams only disturbed with crushing sorrow now.
Why had she not chased away the thoughts that Iros had reminded her of? Why had she not tried harder to get his face out of her mind?
“Do not let it be a devil in the night, gods but I have begged to sell my mortal soul enough. I have nothing to give any longer…”
The nightmares of her past spilled forth. The flames, the ones that would not go out no matter how much they burned. They’d warmed her blood even after so many years. She wished it to run cold, freed, but the embers burned at her back still, always, no matter where or with whom.
It was a man. It was not a trick of the light. The sense of danger overcame her. Why in the gods name had she come…
A step forward, unconsciously, the very last drops of her living hope driving her forth.
A feeling spreading over her, somewhere at the very depths of her furiously beating heart, her body had already known.
“Marat…”
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The blood in his veins had grown frigid. For hours now, he stood, he waited, knowing that Iros had said a certain time - a certain place and he’d come so much earlier, but he was too afraid to miss the moment, too afraid she would not come and he would not have known.
Perhaps Iros had been mistaken. Perhaps it was not her at all.
Gods, but he prayed that it was her.
Not a trick, not a cruel joke.
Hearing the soft steps hurrying across the stone, he closed his eyes and the nearing presence swallowed him whole, knowing in his heart that it had been her after all. She stepped on the wet soil and her footsteps hushed. He would have known them anywhere, still. It was Val.
His Val…
As if a midnight wraith, she had appeared, all dressed in white - the dress too long for her height. Elegantly, the skirts followed behind her on the ground. She picked them up in that nervous way she did.
He felt his hand shaking, his heart threatening to shout all the words that were in his thoughts.
Wanting to run and grab her just to know. To know she had been here, real, and not a memory he held onto so tightly for so long. She had not been real for so long…
Even then, he remembered every detail - the scent of her, the feeling of the tender skin across her collar bones - his hands had run across it so many times. The shape of her face, the unruly hair that had refused to uncurl just at the sides, by her temples. Her hands were so small and delicate, with faint old scars, from her childhood, running across them. He knew it all, and he knew that it was only right there.
Reach out and touch–
He was scared.
He felt it in his bones. Nothing about this had been real. Not the soft smell of honeysuckle, not the light of the moon that seemed to cast a layer of cool night air across them now.
He’d dreamt of her the way she was standing there before him. He’d dreamt of the moment he would find her - her eyes wide open, looking up at him in every place he searched - in every place he prayed she’d finally be. In the faces of every woman he saw - it was Val, but it was not. It had been only hope, dashed to the ground every time. And here, she stood just far enough that he knew she could not see his face.
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His face.
Perhaps it was better she could not. The curse that had befallen him for the blessings of a second life. His penance - a face so deformed and scarred, would she even recognize it now?
His fingers traced the ruined skin, and he felt his scars burn in response.
Consuming half his face, they stretched as spider webs of glossy melted skin, marbling with scarring both pink and ivory. Disfiguring his brow, his cheek, his ear. Casting a shadow over his right eye.
A momentary thought to leave, to disappear before she could ever see him. He would rather this, than see the horrified expression on her face. Rather than feel the repulsion in her touch.
But, this was Val.
His Val.
As if to hide its shame, his head bowed, unable to look as she took another trembling step forward.
At that very moment, he knew that she had known. Perhaps it was in her movement, the way she froze, just for a second. He heard her whisper a word that became louder when she repeated it.
His name.
Gods, help him now.
“If you should break what little is left of my broken heart, do so now, specter.” She said louder, her words breaking apart.
It did not take another thought, he’d already taken a step forward out of the safety of the dark before he could change his mind. Before he could spare her the sight of him.
They stood, the tension of the disbelief a constant hum in both their minds.
She reached a hand out, her gloved fingers barely making contact with his chest. She jerked it back as if burned. Even in the dark, he could see her eyes were wide, and lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say more, but no words would come. Until they did.
“I found you…” She whispered, reaching out again and this time he stepped forward into it - both moving so quick into each other’s arms, so tightly as if afraid that any second this would have all been for naught and the other would disappear.
It was not possible. It was against everything that they had known to be true for years. But, drops of hope turned rushing storms with fingers gripping tight and pressing whole, pulling in.
“Say something, say something so I know this is not a dream…” She begged into his shirt.
“I would die before I wake from you.”
He pulled away just enough to take her face and lean down to kiss her with intensity that had left both breathless. A kiss so familiar, so comforting, so reminiscent of what felt to be a lifetime spent with one another. A kiss that had been the joining of pieces missing for many years. Each other’s taste, smell, the texture of the lips, intoxicating and forcing the moment to feel more real than anything had in their entire lives.
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“Val…” He could manage but a whisper before she pulled him back in. A word spoken by a voice that had only existed in nightmarish dreams for so long.
She could not let go. She felt his increasingly powerful grip and fell into it whole. An immediate need as he pressed closer. It was he that put a hand at the small of her back and knelt, lowering her into the grass, the kiss never breaking.
As if a thousand moments to make up for - to relive - and to imagine, the heat that drove them both knew not of reason. It had not known the limitations of the flesh, of blood pumping through their beating hearts.
It knew only the longing of long years spent holding the other close yet impossibly far away. It knew only of heart wrenching pain, desire.
Desire of the missed days holding each other close.
The missed words that could have been said.
The missed laughs and cries.
The missed meals shared.
The missed soft sighs into each others skin.
The missed years watching time take what belonged to it.
He loved her.
He loved her with his very being. He loved her with his hands, his mouth, his body. He loved the very whole of her, as if still afraid she’d disappear. He made sure that in the brief moments that they were guaranteed, she knew.
He’d woken in a body freed from death, but until that moment, he did not realize he still hadn’t been alive, not until her.
His Val.
The disbelief gave way to her hands, looking for proof that he’d been real. Every scar she’d known on his body, every muscle. The myriad of new ones he’d collected over the years - and there had been quite a few.
His hair was so thick and dark - her hands ran through it, and as his body moved, she could not help but grasp it in her fingers. She’d brushed the very tips of her fingers across the right side of his face, and he flinched but did not pull away.
Their motions went between that of a rider urging his steed into a gallop and begging it to slow near the plunge off a cliff.
His skin - the scent of bergamot and sandalwood. The familiar strong arms that sometimes forgot their strength and pushed her to a limit before giving way again. She even knew the rhythm, the fall and rise of his chest—the way his weight had both trapped and protected hers underneath.
Her Marat.
As the storms calmed, Val lay, relishing the beating of his heart through her skin. Unwilling to let go of one another, even then. They allowed silence between them because so much had already been said without speaking a single word. The cool dirt beneath them, the stomped flowers and leveled grass, the smell of the earth had brought both down to the mortal world.
She saw his eyes on her hands. He did not ask, only pulled both her wrists up toward his chest. He kissed them, kissed the scars all the years had made unknown to him. She kissed his lips again, the delicate skin of her thigh brushing over his.
“I love you,” his voice shook. She saw how hard he’d been gritting his teeth. “Val, I should have said it. I should have said it every moment you had reminded me why I did - I would have said it a thousand times over every single day.
“I love you too.” She choked up, willing herself to stop, but she could not.
Feeling the tears well up and spill onto her cheeks, she pulled him in to her chest, his burned, scarred skin brushing over the softness of hers. She squeezed her eyes shut, still not willing to shed tears - and felt the hot warmth of his own. He pulled closer in.
“I looked for you, I never stopped.” His body shook against hers.
“I was nowhere I could be found...”
They spoke in hushed voices only meant for them.
“How can this be?” She asked, her hands still slowly running across his skin, savoring every second of the sensation.
“It is a long story to tell. Perhaps at a time that we can both catch our breath.”
It mattered not.
He was here with her.
“Had I known, I would have never…” In sudden, horrible realization, she remembered leaving his body at the house, barring the door - oh gods, what had she done?
“No.” His head shook, no, ever so slightly against her. “There was nothing to know. I was already gone. Please, Val, another time.”
She nodded, but the tightness in her chest remained.
“Your scars,” he said, holding her hand up to his eyes. The dim light of the moon revealed the healed cuts, “what happened to you, Val? Who had done this?”
She forced them lower and out of sight, wishing that they’d remained there to begin with.
“A story for another time as well.” She smiled.
“We cannot stay, but I will not let you leave.” He said, letting go and propping himself up on his elbows. “Come with me. Spend the night. Spend the day, spend the rest of our lives.”
Val’s smile grew, and the tears returned, the happiest that she had ever been.
“I will not give you another opportunity to get rid of me.” She said, grabbing the dirty, discarded dress off the ground as she stood.
As if unable to stop, again his lips met hers. Refusing to stop touching, refusing to go. But, the cold of the night had grown and both felt it now for the first time.
They walked down the silent halls, his arm around her, their clothes caked with dirt and stains of plants.
His room had been meager, a servant’s room, with only the necessities - a bed and a writing desk. Upon closing the door, Marat slid the lock in place and secured one of the chairs against its handle. She looked questioning at him but didn’t ask.
In the privacy of the four walls, the longing-driven fire renewed and time was lost somewhere in the darkness.
Eventually, he stood and opened the window to let in some fresh cold air. A candle lit, they comfortably leaned against each other, sitting against the headboard.
“I never thought I would see you again.” She told him.
“I’m afraid I am not much of a sight to see anymore.” He smiled, but nervously, anxious for how she would respond.
Val sat up, so that she could look him in the eyes. She took his chin and turned his burned side toward her. She studied it with no hint of disgust, only the loving gaze of someone taking in every detail, trying to forever etch it in their mind. She saw that he had looked away from her, although he did not resist or try to turn his head.
Leaning forward, she kissed his disfigured cheek with a slow, deliberate movement.
“You are the sight that I have wished to see every moment you were gone. Nothing can be more beautiful to me.” She whispered.
His amber eyes met hers again, still unsure, but a slight smile twitched at the corners of his lips.
“Val, I do not know how it is possible that you’ve returned to me. I do not know how it is possible that I see you now and you are more precious and breathtaking than you had ever been. There was so much I wanted to say for years, so much I’d rehearsed while crossing vast lands in search of you. And now, here, all those words have left me.”
“I have never known you to be so open with your words.” She joked, and that familiar glance of annoyance appeared in the creases of his face.
“Perhaps a man regrets the things he’d done or didn’t do in a different life.” He said. “There were quite a few I would have done differently, had I known.”
“I feel that I would have as well.” She admitted. She’d become a different person since he had known her, and she remembered Iros’ words.
No matter who you see or meet in the coming days, you must never speak of that. No one.
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They fell asleep in the same way, even in their rest not letting go of one another.
Val woke up first, the window already radiating heat of the day into the room. He was still asleep, his face peaceful.
A face that had immediately caused her so much joy she felt the smile force itself onto her face. All over, disbelief, elation, gratitude. Whatever forces brought him back to her, it was a debt she could never repay.
She studied his scarred face. It was different in the light of day. She remembered with no small amount of sadness how he had looked, lying there, after she found him in the ashes. The burns had been severe, grotesque. Now, they were simply skin. Thin threads that told a tale of healing, stretching from temple through his cheek and down to his chin. A weave of lines and scars. The physical promise of his love for her.
The sacrifice of his life for her.
They’d made him even more lovely in her eyes. Truth be told, she thought that they suited him - a stoic hunter, fallen noble, a man who’d walked through fire - they could write books about such as he.
She scooted closer in, despite the warmth of the room. The quiet was so serene. The rush of the night began to settle, leaving only the purest of happiness behind. Although, somewhere at the back of her mind, something she’d forgotten, nagged.
As if she was meant to do something?
She pushed it away and closed her eyes again, breathing in the scent of his skin.
She was finally, truly home.
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