Each kiss seemed to steal away Emilia's breath and some secret piece of her heart, evanescent as they were. As he whispered the confession, Emilia could do naught but stare, wide-eyed, at the stranger before her, the man who wept and held her in his arms. Was this a dream like all the rest? Would he pull away and laugh at her, tell her it was a joke? She felt as though she were drowning slowly underwater.

Afraid to discover if what was happening was real or not, Emilia wasted no time in throwing her arms around her husband and holding him tight, weeping now with new fervor. Her heart swelled with unbidden waves of emotion. She had waited so long to hear him say the words, and she had abandoned all hope of ever hearing them-presently, her head and heart were numb with shock. In faith, he had said "I" and "you", but eliminated the most important one, the word betwixt those two-but Emilia did not care. The sentiment came across, strong, resonant, with more clarity than any amount of capable words could possess. She held him tightly as she rested her head upon his shoulder, crying quietly, and then she righted herself, looking into the pale eyes. The ice in them had melted, and she watched the spring streams form.

Emilia, unafraid of the lion's eyes, saw no more danger in his jaws. She cupped his face in her hands, then leaned forward and placed her lips on his.