Twenty Five

-Keira-

As Reaver revealed the most secret horrors of his past, he faced away from me, pausing only to take deep swallows of wine or to lean heavily against the mantle. My heart twisted at the pain clear in his voice, and I found myself in tears by the time he stopped speaking. The story had been horrible and sad, but I felt a sort of comfort in knowing his origins. It was something he had obviously not divulged to a living person since the horrid events took place.

So many things were clearer, now. I felt as if I understood my husband, and the world, so much more clearly. The Reeds of Oakvale had been a folk-legend that had been passed around the gypsy camp in which my mother had spent her childhood. The tale laid blame at the feet of the most powerful, most greedy family in Oakvale, saying that their wantonness and care for only gold had sunken the place into The Shadows, blurring the lines between The Void and our world. I supposed those stories had been closer than most historians would give them credit.

Even the song that my mother's old friend Hammer had sung to me on the day my mother died made much more sense. I remember the moment and the song so vividly because she'd taken me in her strong arms and stroked my hair, comforting me, crooning softly the song that she'd told me her father sang to her. I clung to the moment, to the comfort, and I'd never forgotten the tune.

Down by The Reeds

A twisted path leads

To Banshees who breathe out

A cold winter's breeze.

Nobody knows.

Nobody sees

The sirens of Oakvale

Down by The Reeds.

The words hadn't referred to the reeds by the water. It had referred to The Reeds—a family. Reaver's family. The family he'd lost so many years ago.

I was still unsure of what to say or do. Reaver was silent, still faced away from me, breathing evenly. He'd repeatedly tried to deter me from loving him, but he'd also told me how desperately he needed me to. It was then that I realized that he was afraid. Afraid of true intimacy. Afraid of letting me in. I knew he would need reassurance, but I also knew that he was probably still raw from telling his tale of woe and torment.

"Reaver," I murmured, wiping the fallen tears from my face and crossing the room toward him. I pulled the thin robe more tightly around my body, and I reached a tentative hand to touch him.

He recoiled from my touch at first, but when I stroked the bare flesh of his back soothingly, he leaned back into my hand. His posture was stiff, and his breath trembled, flaring with emotion.

We stood in silence for a good while, and I inched closer and closer until my body was pressed against his back, my arms slipping around his waist, and my cheek pressed softly against the space between his shoulder blades. I could hear the steady beating of his heart, and it helped me to feel closer to him.

"I love you" I whispered, trying to choose my words carefully. "What you told me...it doesn't change that."

"I do not know whether to be astounded or disgusted with your extremely poor taste," Reaver mumbled, one of his hands covering the hands I had locked just below his naval.

"As much as I wish we could, we cannot change the past," I said. "We can only learn from it."

He finally turned toward me, his eyes soft and hard all at once. He cupped my face in both hands, and he whispered harshly, "What lessons are we to learn? What purpose does it serve?"

"It helps you become better over time, Reaver."
"And you are such the expert?" He almost spat, his eyes full of fire. "You have no idea the-"

"I killed my brother," I interrupted, my tears springing anew. "Just as you have. I killed a person I loved...just as you have. I lost hundreds...thousands of people to The Darkness. I struck a terrible deal with The Shadow Court. Just as you have. Can you not see, Reaver? Can you not see that we are the same?" I gripped his face, just as he gripped mine. "I am your equal, not your better."

His eyes softened. "You did not allow your life and hardships to make you cruel."

"Give me a few hundred years," I said as an ironic sort of chuckle pushed through my throat. "We'll see."

He stroked my face with cool, deft fingers. His forehead pressed against mine, and the warmth of his breath swept across my skin as he sighed deeply. "Oh, Keira...I would never let you be like me, as much as that was my intent when I first schemed for your hand in marriage." His voice was so soft, so inviting, so unlike the voice that he used when others were present. It was almost vulnerable, and I knew that it was a voice reserved just for me, just for moments like this. "You cannot know the lengths I would go to...just to spare you that fate."

"I love you, Reaver," I repeated, wanting him to know that his story made no difference to me, that I would love him no matter the demons in his past.

"And I love you," He replied. "More than I have ever loved anything—anyone." He laid a soft kiss against my mouth and drew away. "Solange was my first love, the light of my mortal life. I was a much easier man to love in those days. You will always be the woman that looked into my darkness and loved me in spite of it, and because of that I know... I know that you are mine. You were always supposed to be mine." His mouth brushed against mine once more, but this time, it lingered. As his tongue swept into my mouth, he allowed one of his hands to skim down my back, pressing me closer into his body.

I moaned softly into the kiss, and my hands drifted to his shoulders. I stroked the warm flesh there, and I could feel his muscles relax and become tranquil beneath my touch. My head and heart were swimming with so many conflicting emotions—sadness and joy, contentment and lust. Everything felt surreal, but I knew that it was real, that this had truly happened—that Reaver had opened up to me, and that I had risen above the judgment and doubt I could have thrown at him. I had given him nothing but acceptance, and I was proud that I had been able to do that. Mere months ago, I hadn't been able to. I shut him out when he opened up to me, however little he had.

He withdrew from the kiss, but his mouth was still so close to mine as he said, "I need to make love to you...right now, but I have done so many times in the past twenty-four hours. I fear you will grow tired of it."

I could hear the humor in his voice, and it was such a change from the sadness that had been there mere minutes ago. It was a joy and a relief. I pressed a soft, quick kiss against his mouth, and I brought a hand to comb through his dark, unruly curls.

"How could I possibly deny you?" I asked, returning his jest. "I will simply have to endure it."

"I think that with the proper amount of coaxing, you shall do much more than simply endure it." He dipped his mouth to nibble at the hollow of my throat, and my breath left my lungs. His fingers untangled the knotted sash of my robe, and quickly pushed it off of my shoulders. Immediately, his hands roamed my body, softly yet greedily grasping at my rear, then sweeping down the back of my thigh, to draw my leg around his waist.

I gasped with delight, and I curled my fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth to my throat once more, never wanting him to stop. His tongue probed and his teeth nipped, and my heart fluttered into my throat, my breath stuttering

There was a faint knock at the door, and Reaver's body tensed. He paused his assault of kisses against my neck, and he seemed to wait, to see if the person on the other side of the door dared to knock again, or even worse, enter.

There was another knock, and Reaver released me gently, stooping down to retrieve my robe. He looked positively humorless as he silently instructed me to cover myself. He strode across the room to the door, turning to make sure I'd tied the sash around my waist before opening the door.

Murphy stood at the door, looking apologetically up to Reaver. "I'm terribly sorry to disturb, but you requested for me to wake you..."

"If our deserter was found," Reaver said, finishing Murphy's statement for him. "Am I correct in assuming you've had him brought to the estate?"

Murphy merely nodded in reply, his eyes momentarily finding me, then snapping back to Reaver when he saw that I only wore a thin, clinging robe. He managed not to blush too deeply, and he said nothing to protest when Reaver closed the door in his face.

Reaver did not look the faintest bit amused as he moved to collect his clothes, taking special care to pick up his belt that held his pair of Dragonstompers. "I must handle this."

"Reaver," I started to protest, eyeing the pistols. "Don't you think-"
"He knew very well the consequences of deserting his post. Of abandoning his Queen," Reaver snapped. "What if we had been attacked in your weakened state? I may not have been able to keep you safe."

"You can show mercy," I insisted. "Perhaps something happened. Something beyond his control..."

"We shall see," Reaver said, his lip curling with distaste.

The dress that Reaver had procured for me did not fit in any sense of the word. It was too loose as well as cut far too low in the bust, and nearly too tight in the waist. The hem of the skirt dragged on the floor, and I was forced to use one hand to hold it out of the way of my feet while the other held the drooping neckline in place. I had never much cared for fashion or about what I wore, but this dress was possibly the most unflattering garment I'd ever had the misfortune of wearing—and I'd once worn a chicken suit and lured chickens back to their pens. I found myself wishing that not all of my clothes had either fallen victim to thievery or left completely ruined by the trek through Wraithmarsh.

Reaver shot me an almost apologetic look as we stepped into the foyer, but as soon as he thought I wasn't looking, the faintest glimmer of humor crossed his features. That came to an end shortly as we entered the drawing room. Our carriage driver sat nervously in a chair, rubbing his wrists. They were red and raw from being bound, and his face was pale and slick with sweat.

The carriage driver was on his feet, then quickly on his knees when he noticed that I was present. He looked just as scared as the last time I'd seen him before we entered Wraithmarsh.

"Your Majesty!" He whimpered, his eyes not daring to meet with mine.

"Get up," Reaver growled, seizing him by the shoulder, and tossing him back into the chair. "Don't bother yourself with grovelling at your Queen's feet now, you curr."

"What's your name?" I asked softly.

"It's Bertrand, Your Majesty," He said, still staring at the floor, shame riddling his face. "Most people call me Bert." He glanced up to me, but still refused to meet with my eyes.

Reaver snorted, obviously finding the name not to his liking. He also didn't seem to enjoy the way Bert's eyes lingered on my neck and breasts. He seized Bert's jaw, wrenching his face and gaze up toward him.

"What happened, Bert?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest to disguise the cut of the dress.

"I was waitin' there," he said, his voice quavering. He twiddled his thumbs together, and his leg took to trembling nervously. "And after a while, I started to hear screamin'. It was the worst thing I'd ever heard, and-"

"So you heard screaming coming from the general direction that your Queen had ventured, and your first instinct was to flee?" Reaver questioned taking a step back and placing himself between Bert and myself. His hands were planted squarely on his hips, and his posture read dangerous.

Bert's eyes squeezed shut, and his face reddened. He merely nodded, and the trembling spread through his whole body. He was obviously well acquainted with the countless stories of Reaver's lack of mercy.

"So you admit that you are a coward, an oathbreaker, and a thief?" Reaver continued.

Again, Bert nodded. Tears trailed down his face.

"What of our belongings?" I asked. "The carriage? Our horses?" Maybe things could be salvaged if everything was still in his possession. Maybe this could all be chalked up to a misunderstanding. I desperately hoped that he still had my clothes because this dress was a chore to wear.

"I sold 'em, Your Majesty," Bert admitted, his voice tight with fear. "I was plannin' on fleeing to Samarkand. I needed th' gold."

"That is unfortunate," Murphy sighed, his eyes finding mine with a knowing trepidation, then straying toward my husband.

I heard the click of Reaver's pistol before my tired eyes could register him drawing it.

"I hope you have squared away your business, Bertrand," Reaver said, taking aim.

I rushed forward, wrapping my fingers gently around Reaver's wrist. I squeezed softly, and I sought his eyes with mine.

He turned to look at me, gun still pointed squarely at Bert's forehead. His eyes were violent, full of bloodlust, and but his face was blank. "It's justice, Keira," He said simply, as if I would accept that.

I persisted, my eyes resolute, and my hand not moving from his arm. I was silent, but my look alone seemed to deter Reaver because he lowered his arm, stowing his Dragonstomper back at his hip.

"I suppose it would be a waste of a bullet," Reaver murmured before pulling his arm from my grip and turning to sweep out of the room, his face colored with frustration.

Bert collapsed back onto the floor, catching the breath he'd obviously been holding. He covered his face, and I could make out a frantic string of curses and hiccups. I couldn't blame him for being so shaken up. Not many people stared down the barrel of Reaver's pistol and lived to tell the tale.

"What should we do with him, Your Majesty?" Murphy asked, raising his eyebrows.

"His actions were illegal," I said, turning the situation over in my mind. Letting him free would be out of the question. He had broken the law. He'd abandoned his post, stolen royal property, and planned to flee justice. Some sort of punishment had to be dealt. "What type of justice is dispensed here in Bloodstone?"

"The kind Reaver was about to dispense, ma'am," Murphy said, clearing his throat. "There aren't any prisons here...nor are there any guardsmen."

I pressed my lips together. That was definitely a problem. Without a local prison, he would have to be taken to Bowerstone, and that could prove difficult unless we found someone to escort him.

"His actions, even in Bowerstone, would be worthy of death," Murphy said, putting a hand on my shoulder and leading me toward the door. "He stole royal horses and your personal things. He abandoned his Queen when his duty was to wait. He was warned of the consequences."

"I did," Bert said. "But I was scared. You would have done the same." His eyes were fixed on Murphy. "You're an ordinary man, like me. Not like them. Not like The Queen and Reaver."

"Murphy saved me from those things in the marsh, when he could have simply run away...like you," I said, turning to face him. I was suddenly feeling less generous toward him. He really had abandoned all of us.. If we had needed a hasty escape from the marsh, we would have been out of luck. "He is nothing like you."

I could see Murphy's face take on a humbled expression, and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"What do you suggest, my dear?" Reaver said from the doorway, tucking a cigarette between his lips, obviously having cooled down a bit. "Since freedom is out of the question, and apparently so is death."

"We can pay someone to escort him to Bowerstone," I said, wringing my hands together. The emotional exhaustion was setting in again, and I could feel my patience with the situation growing even thinner. I was so ready to have a few, quiet days to myself. "He will be imprisoned."

Reaver rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed with my brand of justice. He tapped his foot, and his eyes drifted over me. "How merciful you are, my love. I hope that mercy doesn't come back to haunt you—a pesky thing that mercy has a habit of doing." He turned and left the room once more.

Murphy was already binding Bert's wrists once more, and he nodded toward me, as if to say he could handle the situation from there.

I followed Reaver out into the foyer, closing the door behind me. He stood still, obviously waiting for me. He didn't look as cross as I had expected. He actually looked as exhausted as I felt. We had been awake throughout the night, but it seemed that Reaver had slept far less than I had.

"Did you have to undermine me?" Reaver questioned in a sigh. "Couldn't you let me handle this?"

"Did you really think I'd just let you shoot him in vengeance?" I countered, raising my eyebrows.

"He deserved that and more," Reaver seethed quietly, his eyes fixating intently on mine. "Not all people deserve mercy." We moved toward the staircase, Reaver offering his arm out to me as if to show me that he wasn't truly angry with me, that he was angry with the situation.

"Not all criminals deserve death," I returned softly, lacing my arm around his. I pressed my cheek against his shoulder, sighing. It was obvious we were both resigned to going back upstairs and falling into bed.

The door to the study burst open, and Bert was running, his hands bound, but his feet were free. He had obviously thought that Reaver and I had moved on and the exit would be left unguarded. He saw Reaver and me standing at the foot of the staircase, but he continued toward the door. I suppose he thought he'd make a clean escape. Perhaps he thought I would stave off Reaver's wrath once more.

The roar of Reaver's Dragonstomper echoed through the foyer, and Bert fell to the floor, stone-dead. Reaver released me, and he glanced into the study. "Check on Murphy, would you, darling? I doubt he would have simply let that man run off if all was well." His tone was casual, as if he'd just swatted a fly. At least there hadn't been any hint of an "I told you so" insinuated in his words.

I made my way into the study, my eyes tearing away from the sight of Bert's body, wondering what had tempted him to flee. In all honesty, the sentence I'd doled out had been light. Time spent in prison was preferable to death...or so I had thought.

Murphy was sprawled across the floor, but he was coming to when I arrived at his side. His nose, now decidedly more crooked than before, bled profusely, and bruising was already darkening the area under his eyes. His nose was very obviously broken, and he looked terribly dazed.

"He headb-b-butted me," Murphy stammered, digging for a handkerchief in his pocket.

"Your nose is broken," I said, moving to kneel in front of him. "Look at me."

"It's truly n-nothing," He said, pulling away. His nose would need to be set in order for it to heal properly, but with his fidgeting, it would prove to be a difficult task.

"Stop moving and let me..." I said, cupping his face. "It needs to be set, Murphy."

"Please," He said, shaking his head. "I'm fine, really."

"Would you prefer for me to do it?" Reaver asked from the doorway. "I know from experience that Keira has far gentler...more skilled hands than I." I could hear the smile in his voice. It was as if disposing of Bertrand had lightened his mood.

Murphy relented, shaking his head at Reaver's offer of help. Perhaps he'd been at the mercy of Reaver's nursing skills in the past, for a look of recollection crossed his gaze. I doubted that Reaver had been very gentle, especially with someone he viewed as a subordinate.

I had only ever done it once before, but Ben Finn's nose had healed normally after breaking it in a particularly nasty Hollowman encounter. I chewed on my lip, not excited to cause Murphy any pain, but it was necessary. With crack that made my skin prickle into goosebumps, his nose was set almost perfectly. It would hopefully heal with no bumps or crooks.

He pressed the handkerchief gingerly against his nostrils. "Thank you."

"Well, now that there is a body sprawled in the foyer, I'd say this scene is rather played out, wouldn't you agree?" Reaver said, stepping forward. "My people here will take care of things, and we can all go home."

Sleeping in my own bed would feel like a luxury after the events in Wraithmarsh, and I found myself nodding. Maybe the coming days would be quiet, and I would be allowed to center myself, to absorb everything that had happened and all that had been revealed to me.

Murphy's expression lightened considerably at the prospect of returning to Bowerstone—returning to Anabelle. Of course he would be excited. His wife was likely under the impression that she would never see him again, and he was probably thrilled to be able return to her in the same state that he'd left her.

"It'll be a relief to get out of this dress," I murmured, tugging the bustline up once more, and pulling at the skirts.

"I had always found it to be quite comfortable, personally, but I suppose it does drape differently on different body types," Reaver said, a naughty glint in his eye. "Though I cannot imagine a scenario where I would ever protest to watching you undress." His eyebrows raised, then fell as he smirked.

It felt like an eternity since I'd seen Bowerstone Castle, and it was such a contrast to the time we'd spent in Wraithmarsh. The wetness had dried in the sun, and the trees that lined the path to the gates were losing their brilliant gold, orange, and red leaves, paving the way for winter to take hold. When we entered the castle, the atmosphere was warm and comforting, just as any home should feel.

I saw that Murphy was striding ahead, pushing his hair away from his healing face—I'd forced a few health poultices I retrieved from my sanctuary down his throat, knowing that having such a badly broken nose could get in the way of his reunion with Anabelle. I knew that would be an important moment for them, a moment that they would cherish.

He turned to look at me, putting a hand on my shoulder, as if to thank me for the moment.

The servants opened the double-doors that lead into the foyer, granting us entry. Murphy was a mixture of excitement and anxiety He glanced over to Reaver and myself, gulping deeply, but his lips drew up into a grin befitting of the occasion.

I heard a gasp, and I saw that Anabelle was standing at the top of the staircase, bringing a hand to cover her mouth. She was dressed all in black, a veil obscuring her eyes, dressed for mourning, but joy and realization spread across her face quickly.

"Murphy?" She gasped. She threw back her veil and tears sprung immediately in her eyes. Her mouth trembled for a few moments, then she dashed hastily down the stairs, and I felt Murphy take his hand from my shoulder to rush to meet her. She threw her arms around him, and he lifted her from her feet, their eyes locking, and their smiling mouths meeting in a kiss that I was sure Anabelle never thought would happen. She grasped him tightly, as if it was a possibility that he might slip away from her.

"How is this possible?" Anabelle said, her voice thick with emotion as she drew back to look inspect him carefully. "How is it that you've come back to me whole and untouched?" She stroked his smooth, youthful face.

Murphy brought his eyes to rest on me, and he said, "It was an amazing act of selflessness that has brought us back together, love."

Anabelle followed his gaze toward me, and she looked puzzled. "What happened?"

I hadn't thought about how to explain this to Anabelle without first telling her my deal with The Shadows. I wasn't eager to divulge that bit of information, but I knew it was inevitable. I sucked in a breath, and I chewed on my lip. It was beyond complicated, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to explain—not at that moment, anyway.

"She gave herself in my stead," Murphy told her, stroking her face and glancing back to me, a look of gratitude washing over his face.

I exhaled, hoping that not much more would be asked of me. I

"It is a long, complicated tale," Reaver said, at once, knowing my dilemma. "We need not say much more than that."

"How can this be?" She asked, inspecting me. "You are still young..."

"That is one of the complicated parts," I said, wringing my hands together. "I promise I will explain soon, in private." The pain of the string of events that led up to my acts in Wraithmarsh was undoubtedly clear on my face.
Anabelle's eyes found mine, and she searched for any hint of what I might be holding secret. When she found nothing but pain, she nodded. "Yes. I understand. Later."

"Just know that your debt...has dissolved," Reaver said, his lips curling subtly with distaste. In his book, this was still a loss—an investment gone sour.

Anabelle released Murphy hesitantly, but she strode toward me. She pulled me tight into a vehement, thankful embrace, and she squeezed me. "Whatever the circumstance...you brought him back to me. I will forever be grateful."

I felt relief wash over me. I didn't realize how afraid of losing Anabelle's friendship I had been. It was good to know that, in the end, things would be as they once were.

Murphy strode behind Anabelle, and he simply beamed "You were willing to sacrifice so much...I will never be able to repay you for this."

I drew away from Anabelle's embrace, and I offered them a soft smile. "There is no need to repay anything."

"I wanted you to know that I was waiting for your return, Keira. I needed to apologize for the way I acted.I treated you dismally those last days, and it wasn't befitting of a friend." Anabelle said, guilt flooding her tone. "I am so sorry."
"You were in pain," I offered. "You had every right to be so angry."

"I'm not angry anymore." Anabelle's hand found Murphy's immediately, and her smile widened once more. "Thank you...Thank you so, so much, Keira. I knew that if anyone could find a way to spare him, it would be you. You are truly the greatest, most selfless woman Albion has ever seen."

I wasn't quite sure what else to say. I hadn't been totally selfless that day. There had been so much that had gone through my mind at the time. When I gave myself, I hadn't been thinking only of Murphy. If that had been the case, I would have destroyed the Dark Seal, severing Reaver's connection to The Shadow Court—ending his life.

I turned to look at Reaver, who was not focused on the reunion, but solely on me. His dark eyes were inquisitive, as if trying to figure out my train of thought, and his fingers laced with mine,

"Come, my love," he said softly. "I think I recall you saying something about changing clothes." He chuckled, taking in the sight of me in a dress that had apparently been tailored for him. He guided me around Murphy and Anabelle and up the first few stairs. "And I think I recall planning a long, restful day in bed."

Murphy grinned rakishly before sweeping Anabelle off of her feet and stepping around us on the staircase. "Excuse me, Your Majesty, Your Grace. I think I need a lot of time to recover from the journey in bed, as well."

Anabelle merely giggled, her face turning red, and they disappeared down the hallway.

I couldn't help but smile as a warm glow of pride lit within me. It made me happy that Murphy and Anabelle were reunited. It made me spectacularly happy that I had been able to help with that reunion. It had been a dark few days, but now the storm had passed, and perhaps we might be able to bask in the light for a while, at least.

"Come now, mon amour," Reaver said, urging me forward once more. "I will help you out of that dress.

"Your Majesty!"called Jasper's voice from downstairs. "It's such a pleasure to see...what are you wearing?" His eyebrows were drawn upward in shock, and his eyes flitted around the dress, as if desperately searching for what was most offensive about it. He strode up the stairs, approaching slowly.

Reaver huffed impatiently, obviously growing tired of waiting through reunions and greetings.

I turned, and I found myself blushing. "I was forced to borrow clothes...It's a long story."

Jasper cleared his throat, biting his tongue, but his expression clearly conveyed his extreme opposition to the dress. "You have fresh, better-fitting clothes at your disposal in your wardrobe, of course."

"Thank you, Jasper."

"I'm so thankful you've returned today," He continued on. "I was afraid we would have to move your birthday celebration."

I paused for a moment, realizing that I had completely forgotten my own birthday. It was only two days away. I nearly groaned, and I considered canceling the entire event. How could I possibly consider having a birthday celebration feeling the way I did?

"How much remains to be done?" I asked, not truly wanting to know the answer. I was not in the mood to select themes or colors or decorations or food. I wanted nothing more than to relax and revel in the feeling of being home.

"It is taken care of," Jasper said, as if knowing that I was dreading the planning that was sure to accompany such a large, grand event. "I took the liberty of arranging the ball, for it seemed as if you had enough on your plate, Your Majesty."

I broke away from Reaver, and I wrapped my arms around Jasper. He stiffened under my embrace, but he eventually folded and patted me on the shoulder in the most platonic gesture possible. I had let so many things fall to the wayside in the past months, and my relationship with Jasper had been one of those things. I hoped desperately that I could make it up to him somehow.

"Thank you so much, Jasper," I said. "For everything."

He drew away, clearing his throat. "It is no problem, at all. For you, Your Majesty, I would do nearly anything. Planning a birthday party is just a small task." He looked over me once more, and he said, "Now, if I am free to say, you look as if you could use a good rest after your journey. Good day, Your Majesty." He turned to Reaver, and bowed his head respectfully. "Your Grace."

As Jasper strode off, Reaver's mouth was pulled into a humorous grin. He looked positively mirthful as he regarded me, starting up the stairs once more.

"What?" I asked, wanting to know the cause of his impish smirk.

"You forgot your own birthday," he chuckled, wrapping his arm around my waist and guiding me into the hallway.

"There was so much going on," I sighed. "With the trip to Wraithmarsh, and your building anxiety and...I am allowed to forget my own birthday. Why are you grinning?"

"Because I didn't forget," he said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"Am I to expect a grand, extravagant gift, then?" I questioned.

"Something like that," He teased, opening the door to our bedchambers and ushering me inside.

A/N: I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one, too! I will get to work on the next one as soon as I can, and I hope the be able to continue on the way I have been! Thanks for the reviews, and I hope to hear more from you guys!