Behind them, across the hall, the dancers shattered their roses on the floor, and Aedion grinned at his queen as the entire world went to hell.

He stared at her; she stared right back.
Unyielding, unbreakable. They'd been cut from the same cloth.
Aedion loosed a breath and looked at their joined hands - then opened his to examine her scarred palm, crisscrossed with the marks of her vow to Nehemia and the cut she'd made the moment she and Rowan became carranam, their magic joining them in an eternal bond.
'It's hard not to think all of your scars are my fault.'
Oh. Oh.

A smile tugged at her lips, and her eyes - their eyes - sparkled. 'Hello, Aedion.

Whatever you had to do to survive, whatever you did from spite or rage or selfishness … I don’t give a damn. You’re here—and you’re perfect. You always were, and you always will be.

You survived; I survived. We’re together again. I once begged the gods to let me see you — if only for a moment. To see you and know you’d made it. Just once; that was all I ever hoped for.

Aedion - every breath she took seemed to echo his name. Aedion, Aedion, Aedion.