"Behold! The deed is done!" Alec announced, bursting into the Prince's sitting room. Maren and the Prince had just finished a quiet and slightly strained dinner and were having brandy. They both worked too hard not to talk about her upcoming departure.

"Oh? And what deed is that?" the Prince asked.

"The deed in which I play matchmaker for my father—which, by the way, is a phrase I hope never to say again," Alec said, sitting down and helping himself to a glass of brandy.

"It's all settled, then?" she asked, with no little trepidation.

"It is. His Grace will be available to receive you in four weeks. He has already taken the liberty of sending a note to your parents asking them to come the week after you arrive, and then you'll have the wedding the following week," Alec explained.

"Oh, and I'll escort you to Worthingham, of course," he added.

Maren tried to ignore the feeling of panic beginning to rise within her, and she tried not to think too much about what that panic meant.

"Thank you, Alec," she said. She knew she sounded subdued. She felt subdued.

"Well, just promise me that you'll be a kind stepmother to me," Alec said with a wink.

Maren groaned, "I am two years younger than you and I swear by all the gods that if you so much as think of calling me 'mother' I will murder you."

"Maren, I assure you I wouldn't dream of calling you 'mother' or even 'stepmother," Alec said. "But, you should consider what you want your grandchildren to call you."

Maren clapped her hand to her forehead. "Grandchildren, by gods, I can't believe I let you talk me into this. Can't they just call me Maren?"

"They're children! They need to call you by a proper grandmother name," Alec insisted. "How do you feel about Granny Maren?"

"Horrible," Maren said.

"I called my grandmother Nana," the Prince offered.

"The two of you are not helping!" Maren insisted, but couldn't help but smile.

"How about Grandmama?" suggested Alec.

"Fine if I was ninety," she said.

For a time, they entertained themselves by coming up with increasingly ludicrous grandmother names for Maren. "GamGam Maren" was a favorite, but "Her Grace, the Duchess of Grammy" was one of the top choices as well. When they had finally run out of ideas and Alec had finished his brandy, he rose to leave. He kissed Maren on the cheek and clapped Donovan on the shoulder, and then wished them good night before leaving.

Maren and the Prince sat quietly for a few moments before she spoke.

"Well, I think I'll turn in," she said quietly and rose from her seat.

"Maren, wait," he said urgently.

She looked down at him, surprised. She could probably count on one hand the number of times he had called her by just her name and not "Lady Maren" or "my lady." She saw his eyes were full of anguish.

"Maren," he said again, more softly this time. "Don't go."

"To bed?" she asked, puzzled.

He rose from his chair and then took both her hands in his. Her pulse raced; he had never behaved this way.

Looking deep into her eyes, he said softly, "No. Don't leave. Don't go get married. Stay with me."

Her jaw dropped. This was the absolute last thing she expected. She sighed and turned away from him, walking aimlessly across the room. The Prince stood watching.

She had no idea what to say. All the calm composure she normally maintained had fled. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, trying to hold in the emotions threatening to explode from her.

She took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. She must have read too much into what he was saying. So, she would handle this like a lady.

She turned back to the Prince and forced a small smile, "I'm flattered, Your Highness, that you wish me to stay in the palace longer, but I think it's for the best that I leave sooner rather than later. Besides, we are only cutting the year short by less than two months..."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," he said seriously.

"Your Highness, I -"

"No. No more Court talk, not now."

She stared at him, slightly stunned.

He crossed the room to her, taking her hands in his.

"Maren, I know I haven't been particularly good at hiding it. Surely, you must know how I feel about you," he insisted.

Maren's eyes went wide. What she thought she was hearing was so contrary to what she ever thought she could hear that she didn't know how to process it.

"What?" she breathed, not daring to even think what she thought might be happening.

The Prince smiled slightly and sighed. "I should have known you would never let yourself realize it. Maren, I have spent a very long time trying to pretend otherwise, but I cannot let you go without telling you. This time with you, the last few months have been the best time in my life, and it's because of you. Every time I'm with you, I feel happier than I've ever thought possible, and every time I think of you leaving, I feel like it might kill me."

Maren was shocked. She had noticed some signs that he perhaps wanted to be more than friends, at least physically, but she had never looked at them together, and she had refused to even contemplate the idea that he might...

There had been no room in her world for love. But now it was all so obvious, and she could no longer deny it. The Prince had feelings for her — romantic feelings.

"And, I have doubted this at times, but can you really tell me you don't feel the same way?"

She bit her lip. She wanted to look away, to run away, but she could not. She knew the truth. She had admitted how she felt to herself some time ago, but pushed it aside and refused to even imagine he could feel that way too. She thought perhaps she should lie to him, but she couldn't.

"No," she breathed. "I'd like to. It'd be a lot less terrifying if I could. But... I do."

She saw his eyes light up at her words, although his face remained serious.

He went on, gently, "And I also know that you are far too practical to ever imagine that we could be together; that we could truly be together, with no rules and no pretense and no deadline, but I'm not."

Her hands trembled in his.

"How?" she whispered. "You know I can't stay here.  It's only a matter of time before your brother... I don't want to find out what he'll do to me, and I am so afraid he's going to try to tear my power away!"

"Shhhhh," he stopped the words pouring out of her and pulled her close to him. She was breathing heavily, terrified at the thought of finding herself in the clutches of the younger prince again, and very, very emotionally overwhelmed. This Prince, her Prince, held her tightly and made shushing sounds until her breathing slowed. She allowed herself to relax under the press of his arms around her. She calmed as she lay her head on his shoulder.

"No, no, of course not here," he said quietly, once her panic had eased. He was rubbing her back gently, and she couldn't help but enjoy the feel of being in his arms. They had not been this close together since the night of the ball, and she loved it.

"We'll go together," he said.

Maren pulled back and blinked at him, completely flabbergasted. "What?"

"No, listen," he said. "You can't stay here, and I can't—I can't be without you. So let's run away, together."

"Where?" she asked incredulously.

"Anywhere you like! It doesn't matter! We'll find somewhere to live and money's no issue. What else do we need?"

Her stomach dropped. He didn't understand at all.

She reached up and touched her hand to his face. Her heart surged with affection for him. She closed her eyes and tried to fix the moment in her mind. For just the smallest second, she let herself imagine that they could actually be together.

But that was impossible.

She gently took her hand from his face and laid her head once more on his shoulder.

"The last months here, my time here, with you, has been more than I could ever have imagined." She paused, trying to find the right words. "You, your companionship, has given me something that I never thought I could have."

She pulled away from him, smiling sadly, "I will always treasure this time, but we don't have any more."

"But—"he protested.

She shook her head, blinking back pinpricks of tears. "Your place is here. You have to be the king. You cannot just give the crown to Kieran. You cannot leave and I cannot stay."

Carefully, she lifted her head and pressed her lips to his cheek. Then, she turned to walk to her room, heart aching.

"But Maren, I lo-"

"Please don't!" she cried, voice breaking. She couldn't look at him.

"Please," she continued, her back still towards him, choked with emotion. "Because if you don't, I can pretend this was a misunderstanding. But I'm not certain that I can hear you say that and still walk away."

She went into her rooms, leaving him behind.

She closed the door of her suite behind her and leaned against it, sobbing. She reeled from the weight of her emotions. 

She had tried so hard not to be in this mess. She had reminded herself countless times that any affection she felt towards him would only end in her heartbreak.  That even if she did have feelings for him—and she constantly assured herself she did not—he could never feel anything more than friendly courtesy towards her. And even if she did have feelings for him, and he felt the same way, it didn't matter because they could never, ever be together. Not really.

"Damn him!" she said aloud, pacing her room angrily.  He was so foolish and arrogant. Typical prince. He always got what he wanted, and he couldn't understand how utterly incompatible their lives were. Run away together? Was he mad?

She was so angry. And so sad. She was so close to having something she never thought she could have, that she never even let herself even want because it was so impossible to have. And yet, it was still unreachable.

Why did he have to tell her how he felt? Why did he have to ask her to say it too? She should have lied.

She slumped onto the sofa. It was then she noticed the packet sitting in front of her door. For want of something better to do, she rose and picked it up.

Maren,

Per your request.

Warmly,

Alec

The note was attached to a large envelope. Alec must have slid it under her door earlier that evening.

She sat back on the sofa, letting the envelope fall beside her. She didn't open it.

She knew what was inside of it. There would be a photograph of a man. A much older man, her future husband.  Perhaps he would be handsome, like Alec, or at least the sort of pleasant-looking older men who used to be handsome became. Or perhaps not.

Without a doubt, she knew whose photograph it would not be.

She tried to picture her wedding again, but the image refused to form in her mind.

Instead, all she could picture was the Prince. Donovan. Had she ever called him by his name? She didn't think so. She had only allowed herself to think of him as "the Prince" or occasionally, and mostly accidentally, "her Prince."

It was so unfair. She wanted to be with him, and he wanted to be with her, even knowing what she was he still wanted her. She had thought—known—that was something she could never have.

And she still knew she couldn't have it for very long. But wasn't it better to have something for a short time than not having it at all?

—

Donovan was a mess. He'd taken off his tie and unbuttoned the neck of his shirt and poured himself a very large drink before collapsing into his favorite chair. He propped his feet on the table and stared into the fire, trying not to think.

He had thought that when Madison had broken his heart, that he would die from it. He was sure he could never feel worse than that. But he had been wrong.

And now he knew he hadn't truly loved Madison at all. He thought he had loved Madison, and in a way he had, but that had been the obsessive love of youth. He had been drawn to her like a moth to a flame; stuck to her even though she was bad for him.

But he loved—

No, he would not think about it. All he knew was that this heartbreak was far more painful than before.

So, he would not think about it.

The fire sparked and crackled as a log collapsed. He watched his brandy trickle down the side of his glass. He would not think about Maren. He would not think of how wonderful it had been to hold her. He would not think about how awful it felt to finally come so close to telling her how he truly felt, only to have her beg him not to.

She was right, of course. So practical, as always. She had a way of seeing things exactly as they were and -

No, he would not think about her. The fire kept crackling. He sipped his drink. He drew a strand of Darkness around his fingers, letting it flow from finger to finger. He would not think about Maren, or her Light, or wonder how it would feel to touch her—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three soft taps at the door of his suite startled him. The Darkness dissipated as he shifted his focus back to reality.

It must be Alec. Who else would bother him at this hour?

"Go away, Alec, I'm in no mood for company"

"It's not Alec," a soft woman's voice called from outside his door.

He leapt up, hastily set his drink down, and rushed to open the door.

It was her.

She had changed into a black dressing gown and taken down her hair. Beneath her dressing gown, he could see a silky black nightdress. Her long shiny dark hair fell loose past her shoulders in a mass of waves.  She was less "made up" than he had ever seen her. She had never been so beautiful.

"Hello," she said, barely louder than a whisper.

His heart pounded in answer to her. "My lady," he said, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

"I, ah, I had a...um...a request," she said. She sounded—and looked—like someone who was terribly nervous but trying very hard not to seem that way.

He nodded for her to continue.

"Kiss me."

It was not a request.

He knew that if he were a bit wiser, he would tell her that she had been right earlier that evening. That they couldn't be together, and to pretend otherwise would only result in more heartache. He would close the door and try to forget he ever loved her.

But he had difficulty being wise sometimes, particularly when it came to her.

Still holding the door open, he motioned for her to come inside. He closed the door behind her and turned to see her staring at him with her bright blue eyes. He could see she was nervous. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her hands were clenched at her side.

He stepped close to her, cupping her face with his hand as she had done his a short time ago. He smiled ruefully. In their last months together, he had imagined what it would be like for her to ask him to kiss her, for her to choose to be with him, countless times. And he had never thought it would be at this moment when they faced definite and permanent separation.

He tried to memorize her face, knowing he would likely never get this chance again. He bent and pressed his lips to hers. He had intended for it to be a chaste and gentle kiss, a sweet goodbye, but Maren surprised him yet again, wrapping her arms around him and drawing him closer to her.

Without thinking, his hands slid to the back of her head and her waist, and he pulled her even closer, trying to put all that he felt for her into this one kiss. Could you share a feeling through touch? He hoped so.

He felt himself begin to rouse at the feeling of having her body pressed to his and drew back, breaking the kiss. He did not want to frighten her with the strength of his passion. He needed to stop while he still possessed the capacity for rational thought.

For a moment, they held each other at arm's length, and he searched her face for some sign of what she was thinking, of what she wanted.

"Can I do anything else for you?" he said softly, feeling as though speaking too loudly would somehow shatter the moment.

She said nothing but pulled him to herself once again and kissed him. He was surprised at her urgency and boldness, and helpless to resist. Their kiss deepened, and their lips parted, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She still tasted of brandy.

And for a short time, he let himself think of nothing but her and the glorious feel of her in his arms and her lips on his.

When he came back to his senses, he knew they had reached a crossroads. Certainly, she could not fail to notice the evidence of his arousal pressed between them. He broke the kiss once more and looked into her eyes. She stared boldly back at him. 

Her eyes told him why she had come to his rooms.

Still, he had sworn her an oath and would not continue unless she invited him.

"What do you want?" he asked quietly.

In response, she tried to pull him into another kiss, but he resisted.

"No," he said with a small smile. "I made you an oath. You have to 'express' it."

She pursed her lips slightly and blushed the most glorious shade of rosy pink. She looked away for a moment, he could tell she was gathering her courage.

She looked back at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I want you to make love to me," she breathed.

His pulse quickened.

"You're certain?" he asked and chuckled softly.  "Because I'm not sure that I'll be able to stop myself once -"

She took his face in her hands, interrupting him.

"I'm certain... I want...you."

He exhaled in relief and pressed her to him hard. He buried his fingers in her hair and kissed the side of her face. Just once, and again, and suddenly, he was covering her face and neck in kisses.

"Donovan," she whispered.

She had never said his name before. He loved to hear it.

"Say it again," he said, pausing in his kisses to look at her. It was something between a request and a demand.

She smiled. It seemed she knew she had never called him by name before and liked that he liked it.

"Donovan," she whispered again, this time looking into his eyes.

He kissed her lips firmly and then resumed kissing her neck.

She sighed as she tilted her head, giving him better access to her neck. He felt her surrender her body to him, and he took her in hungrily.

—

Maren was perched on a narrow table by the door. Decorative knick-knacks had been shoved aside and fallen to the floor. She was not completely sure how she had ended up there. Presumably, Donovan lifted her and set her there.

He pressed her against the wall, kissing her passionately. His hands roamed inside her now undone dressing gown. He caressed her breast through her nightdress, while his lips played on her neck. She held on to the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair. His hand found her thigh, and he pushed up the hem of her nightdress as he roamed toward her hip. She felt him shift his weight and heard his other hand go to his belt and began to undo it. His lips found hers again, and she felt almost frantic to continue their kiss. He stood between her legs and pulled her to the edge of the table. Instinctively, she pressed his legs with her own, drawing them closer together. She could feel his warmth and hardness between her legs, and her heart pounded still harder as he kissed and nibbled the tops of her breasts and—

Then he stopped.

She involuntarily whimpered in protest as he pulled away from her.

"No," he said, shaking his head as though trying to clear it.

Her eyes widened in alarm. Had she done something wrong? Had he changed his mind?

He saw her fear and his face softened. "Oh, no, no, no," he said, gently touching his forehead to hers. They were both breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I just don't want to do this here, against the wall, I mean, like an animal..."

She sighed, relieved he still wanted her. "I don't mind," she said, pulling his mouth back to hers. And she truly didn't. She wanted him so badly that she felt she couldn't wait to find somewhere more appropriate.

He kissed her for a moment, but then pulled away again.

"I mind," he said, smiling gently at her. He carefully helped her down from the table and then held her close. She wrapped her arms around him, savoring the feel of him.

"I ruined your first kiss, I won't ruin this first, too."

"It occurs to me, I never told you that was my first kiss. How do you know this is also a first?" she asked.

He held her back slightly and looked at her, clearly shocked.

"Ah...well...that's not an issue, I'm just surprised..."

He looked at her a bit more as she tried to suppress her laughter.

"You're joking, aren't you?" he asked.

"I really wanted to see the look on your face," she said with a grin.

"You're terrible," he told her, without malice.

He kissed her again.

Then suddenly and without warning, he swooped her up into his arms.

"Shall we, my lady?" he asked with a grin.

She smiled back. "As you like, Your Highness."

He carried her into his bedroom. It was dark, with only a low fire in the fireplace and a small lamp on the bedside table. He set her down gently on the bed and kissed her forehead. Still standing, he began unbuttoning his now completely disreputable shirt.

He smirked at her.  "You're staring," he said quietly.

She propped herself up on her elbows. "I am," she said boldly. "I intend to enjoy every minute of this."

He smiled a rakish smile that made her heart flutter. "I shall endeavor to oblige you, my lady," he said.

He cast aside his shirt and trousers and laid down next to her in nothing but his underclothes.

Her heart began pounding once more as he turned towards her and tucked her hair behind her ear. He kissed her, gently at first, then more firmly. Her stomach fluttered as he laid his hand on her hip.

"Now," he said, "where was I?"

She chuckled softly as he gently, but firmly pressed her back down onto the bed. Lying on his side next to her, he once more began kissing her neck while exploring her body with his free hand. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as he awakened her arousal yet again. She closed her eyes and relaxed into his touch.

"No, no, no, this won't do at all," he said playfully, in between kisses.

"Hmm?" she murmured, only half listening, lost in the bliss of his hands on her.

"You're wearing entirely too much clothing," he said, mock scandalized.

She laughed. Her eyes still closed, she said, "My apologies, Your Highness, however, can we rectify the situation?"

He put his lips to her ear and whispered, "I expect we'll think of something."

He shifted on the bed to help her sit up and slip out of her dressing gown. She paused for just a moment, then, she reached down to the hem of her nightdress, pulling it up and over her head. Her heart pounded, and she trembled slightly, and her flesh broke out in goose pimples as she faced him. She held her nightdress over her breasts, suddenly and unexpectedly shy as she sat before him entirely undressed.

Seeming to sense her shyness, he kissed her bare shoulder and eased her back to lie on the bed. Gently, he took away her nightdress and placed his hand on her chest. She was unsure what to do next, still feeling overly shy. She looked at him, watching as his eyes roamed over her body.

After what seemed like ages, he looked back at her. His dark eyes were full of affection.

"You are so beautiful," he said softly.

She felt her cheeks grow warm, and looked away, uncertain how to respond to him.

"Oh," he said interestedly. He bent to kiss her cheek, her collarbone, her chest. "I knew your face turned pink when you were embarrassed. I did not know your whole chest did too."

She laughed a tiny bit and cringed, still looking away. He kept kissing her.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, it is the most lovely shade of pink."

He had shifted slightly, positioning himself, so he could lightly kiss one breast while gently caressing the other.

She groaned, "I'll turn you pink if you don't stop talking about it."

"Are you threatening your prince?" He asked, pretending to be shocked. She laughed softly as he continued to kiss her.

"Well, that certainly won't do."

She gasped.

He had drawn one of her nipples into his mouth, and gently bit it while softly pinching the other with his fingers. A bolt of unexpected pleasure shot through her like lightning.

He chuckled softly, his mouth still over her breast.

"I think," he said deviously, "we shall be having quite a bit of fun this evening."

She didn't respond, lost in the sensations of her body. He sucked on her nipple once more, just a little bit harder.

She moaned.

He shifted yet again, climbing above her.  She looked up at him, and he kissed her lips softly.

"Say the word and I'll stop," he said seriously.

"I don't want you to," she breathed.

He smiled slightly. "I know, but if you change your mind, just say so."

She reached up and touched his face, suddenly filled with love for him.

"Thank you," she said. She hoped he knew how many things she was thanking him for.

He smiled again and then began moving ever so slowly down her body.

He kissed her body as he went, taking his time to pay extra attention to the spots that made her quiver or gasp, or moan. She sighed as he trailed over and around her breasts and down the sensitive skin of her stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair as his lips reached below her stomach, and he slid between her legs.

He sighed contentedly, and she shivered with pleasure at the feel of his warm breath on her exposed skin. Gently, he began kissing her inner thighs, the crease of her leg, the concave place just above the line of her hair, and again and again, kissing and licking and nibbling almost every part of her except the one part of her that throbbed and burned and so badly needed his touch.  With his hands, he caressed her legs, her hips, her stomach, and her breasts until she was panting and quivering.

She sighed loudly when his tongue finally touched her most sensitive spot, but the release of her tension was short-lived as he continued to devour her. She moaned, panted, and squirmed as he took her to new heights of pleasure. She felt, more so than heard, his contended moan as he continued to lick and suck and kiss her delicate flesh.

No one had ever—well, of course no one had ever made her feel such pleasure, but she hadn't imagined how deliriously good someone else could make her feel.

—

He could have stayed that way forever. He had been with other women and had enjoyed it very much. But until Maren, he had no idea just how much joy there was to be found in giving pleasure to someone he truly loved. (Gods, he loved her.)

She responded to his every touch with abandon and without self-consciousness. He delighted in her moans and whimpers and the way her flesh quivered when he struck a particularly sensitive spot with his tongue.

Her breathing became more rapid, and he sensed the tension building in her body. He redoubled his efforts, pressing harder and faster and gripping her thighs.

Then her hands were on his shoulders and she was tugging him towards her. He raised his head and saw how beautifully disheveled she was; her hair was tousled, and her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes burned at him.

"I need you," she breathed. "Come here."

He would not deny her. He nodded silently and bent one last time to lay a soft kiss between her legs. A promise to return. Then he slid off the end of the bed and hastily removed his underclothes.

He laid next to her yet again and began kissing her. He found he was just as happy to kiss her mouth and hold her close. Gods, how was he so lucky?

Suddenly, he felt her soft, warm, fingertips slide down his already throbbing shaft and shuddered. He had not expected her to reach for him, yet he also should not have been surprised, as she had been so bold ever since she knocked on his door.

He groaned as she continued lightly stroking him. When she wrapped her hand, her gloriously, impossibly warm hand, around him, he closed his eyes in pleasure.

He would have gladly stayed there forever as well, but knew that wouldn't last much longer. He inhaled sharply and took her hand in his.

"If you keep doing that," he whispered into her ear, "it will be some time before I can do the thing you really want me to do."

She laughed softly and placed her hand gently on his chest. "As you like, Your Highness," she said with a sultry smile.

He swore his heart skipped a beat at that smile. "Gods, what am I to do with you?" he asked with a chuckle.

He leaned over her, running his hand along her side and bending his head to hers.

—

She had momentarily forgotten about her burning arousal, but it came rushing back as he kissed her again. Her heart began pounding as he lifted himself over her and positioned his legs between hers.

He paused. And she knew he was giving her one last chance to change her mind. In answer, she drew his head down, kissing him fervently.

She felt him relax somewhat. He leaned on one arm, and she felt him reach between their bodies to take hold of himself. She was breathing rapidly, both nervous and excited.

She felt him at her entrance, hard and hot to the touch, and spread her legs wider, yielding to him. He slid inside her slowly, carefully; she knew he was trying not to cause her any pain. But she wasn't worried. She felt some discomfort, but no pain. More than anything, she felt satisfaction and completion, joy and love. And pleasure, so much pleasure.

He kept slowly but relentlessly sliding into her until their union was complete. She sighed and pulled him close, holding him to her body. He kissed her lips so tenderly, then slowly began rocking his hips, moving in and out of her. She closed her eyes, trying to block out everything but the feel of him inside of her.

She opened her eyes again, wanting to look at him. She loved him so much it hurt her heart. His eyes were closed, and his face was deep in concentration, as though he were doing some immensely difficult task. She knew he was going slower than he wanted to for her sake, afraid of hurting her.

She reached up and touched his face. He opened his eyes.

"You don't have to hold back," she whispered. "I won't break."

He smiled ruefully. "I don't want this to end."

She knew what he meant. But also that there was no turning back now. "It won't, not tonight at least."

He kissed her once more and then began moving more forcefully within her. He thrust harder and faster, and her hips involuntarily moved to meet his. His pace quickened, and she could do nothing but grip his shoulders. She heard moaning and realized it was coming from her own mouth.

She could feel his breath come heavier and knew he was close. Suddenly, he groaned and pressed into her hard. She moaned as she felt the pulsing of his release.

His breathing slowed and so did hers. They held on to each other, trying to prolong their union. They looked at each other.

"I love you," they both said, and then smiled at the coincidence. He kissed her deeply as they separated.

He rolled beside her, and she curled into him, suddenly chilled now that they were no longer intertwined. He pulled her close and sighed.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while. Holding and kissing and touching each other.

Eventually, he broke the silence. "Why did you come?"

She sighed. She wasn't sure she could explain it, even to herself. "A lot of reasons. And no reason. I just had to." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Mostly, I realized that it was ridiculous to mourn the loss of something that was still right in front of me.

"And I was afraid. I've known from the day I turned thirteen that I would spend my life alone. I never thought, never imagined, that someone who knew the real me could still want to be with me."

He squeezed her closer as if to protest her words.

She went on, "I spent a lot of time and energy trying not to have feelings for you, it felt too dangerous. Well," she said with a small laugh, "I know it's dangerous. But I decided I wanted to be with you more than I was afraid of it."

"Maren, I could never hurt you," he said seriously.

"I don't think you would," she said, smiling softly at him. "But we don't have much time, and you know as well as I do that there isn't any way for us to stay together."

He sighed heavily, "I know. You're right. I just wish—"

"No," she interrupted. "No wishing. No grieving. We have four weeks before I leave, and we will enjoy every second."

"And then?" he asked.

"Then I'll leave. And it will likely be terrible. But for the rest of our lives, we'll have the memory of this time, and that will be such a gift."

"It will be very difficult to let you go," he told her.

"I'm not looking forward to it," she told him. "But I don't want to spend the time we have agonizing over the end of it."

He just looked at her for a few moments before he kissed her and said, "All right, on one condition."

"Oh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You aren't allowed to go back to your room," he said very seriously.

She laughed. "Yes, Your Highness."