by May Peterson
No one answered. That struck a deep chord in me. It was the same grief that colored the memories of my mother, the person she was in my heart, and the person she’d become when I’d finally walked away from her. Whatever part of the Rosemary we’d known had been real, her full self had hidden behind it all along, doing injustice to the face she’d worn.
And her roses still bloomed. All around the house, in red and white and pink, growing on without her. Maybe they alone knew the Rosemary that had cared for them.
Cecilio stretched, moved as if to walk to the house. “What do you think we should do now, my lord?”
Rhodry’s grin was almost audible. “Cecilio. I don’t know if you’ve considered this. I’m not your lord. Not really, not anymore. You don’t need my permission for anything. You don’t have to stay here if you’d rather not.”
Cecilio was still. “You would forgive me if I left?”
Rhodry snorted, but his eyes twinkled. “I suppose I’ll have to find myself a new valet, if you do. That will be quite the burden. I dare say your credentials are peerless.”
Cecilio floated off with a laugh, and we began to follow. After a moment, Eirlys touched us both on the arm and drifted away herself, slipping into the night.
I curled into the safety of my lord, his comforting expanses. The path back was leisurely, and felt welcoming. As the night went on, we might walk the peaceful forest, or I could play for him again. We might curl on cushions together in front of a fire and listen to each other breathe. At dinner, Cecilio might tell stories, or Eirlys produce her violin. When dawn came, we would snuggle into his bed, and I would fall asleep with cool skin against my cheek. It was all ours now. Every moment had been won back.
He kissed me above my ear. “You’re so quiet tonight.”
“I was just thinking.” I gave him a smile; the dark hid no part of me from him.
“Well. Maybe you can think about this. What if... I decided to return to Mallory? Would you want to come with me?”
I paused on the hillside. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to me. His homeland seemed so distant in my head, like another world. It felt too big to imagine. Leaving my own world, Portia and the streets, behind. The redness and nostalgia and drama of it, our city of departed dreams.
He put his hands on my shoulders, perhaps reading my silence as anxiety. “We don’t have to. Your family is here. I understand that. It’s just a thought.”
“I know.” I took his hand and kept walking. It felt easy and soothing to touch him. “I wouldn’t want you to have to stay in Vermagna just for me.”
“Mio.” He chuckled. “I would happily stay in hell for you. And Vermagna is considerably better than hell. Food’s better, certainly.”
“Well, that’s one choice you’ll never have to make.” I hugged him, burying my face against his chest. “Mallory sounds nice. I’d like to see it.”
Maybe I needed to lay my own ghosts to rest. The ghosts of everything I may never get back—and that maybe I didn’t need to.
Rhodry purred playfully, spontaneously picking me up to carry me back inside. I nuzzled him and his amusement rumbled in his chest. Our laughter mingled, and the only silence between us now was the night’s comfortable quiet.
Perhaps I hadn’t truly needed Rhodry to make my own choice, to decide who it was that I would be. But the person Rhodry had helped me become?
I could be that Mio forever.
* * *
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Watch for Reborn to Me, the next book in
The Sacred Dark Series, coming soon from
May Peterson and Carina Press.
Acknowledgments
It’s a struggle to name everything and everyone that has been important to the journey of this book. But it is a journey I would not have missed for the world, and I had many traveling companions who made all the difference.
My dad, who died before this book was published. I wanted you to be able to read this book, Dad. He fed my love of storytelling when little else could have sustained me in my hardest times.
My mom, who does want to read my debut novel, and who is also a fantasy lover, as well as the rock of my world. I love you, Mom.
KJ, a critique partner and friend such that I could not have asked for. She saw this book through multiple drafts, stages of growth, and trials by fire, and she never gave up on it or me.
Anthony, my bestie, has seen this book in its most undeveloped forms. He was there from the beginning and will be there beyond the end. There is no one like you, Anthony.
My agent, Courtney, who’s stayed with me through the hills and valleys of my emerging author career, and who’s led the way when I had lost direction.
My editor, John, who felt so strongly about this book that they advocated for it with their heart and soul, and helped me prepare it for transmission into the world.
And Jack, my own noble bear-soul, my own lord of the starlit night, who waits across the distance for me.
About the Author
May Peterson is rumored to be some kind of magical creature, but exactly which kind is still debated by scholars. While they sort that out, May busies herself as a romance and fantasy author and freelance editor. May has always had a deep fondness for books, animation, and comics. She’s drawn toward both writing and reading stories that are magical, hopeful, and distinctive, as well as those that explore identity, queerness, and emotional connection. She believes that bringing a daydream to life with its own tale to tell is always a small miracle.
You can find her at her website www.maypetersonbooks.com, on Twitter at www.Twitter.com/maidensblade, and on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/mayberrypeterson.
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ISBN-13: 9781488055102
Lord of the Last Heartbeat
Copyright © 2019 by May Peterson
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
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