He sneered now, damning the gods. “Would you rather I beat my breast over my fate? Endlessly mourn my own death? Is that what the gods demand?”

“We demand nothing. We asked, and you gave. Gave more than we believed you would. If it were otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Fine. Now you can go away again.”

“Nor,” she continued in the same easy tone, “would I give you this choice. Continue to live, grow wealthier yet. Century upon century, with no age, no sickness, and the blessings of the gods.”

“Got that already, without your blessing.”

Her eyes sparkled a little, but he couldn’t tell—didn’t care—if it was amusement or temper. “But now it’s given to you, the only of your kind who has it. You and I know more of death than any human can. And fear it more. There need be no end to you. Or you can have an end.”

“What? Staked by the gods?” He snorted out a laugh, took another long pull from the bottle. “Burned in god-fire? A purification of my condemned soul?”

“You can be what you were, and have a life that comes to an end as all do. You can be alive, and so age and sicken and one day know the death as a man knows it.”

The bottle slipped out of his fingers, thudded on the floor. “What?”

“This is your choice,” Morrigan said, holding out both hands, palms up. “Eternity, with our blessing to enjoy it. Or a handful of human years. What will you, vampire?”

I n Geall, a quiet snow had fallen, a thin blanket over the ground. The morning sunlight glinted off it, and sparkled on the ice that coated the trees.

Moira passed her cousin’s infant back to Sinann. “She’s prettier every day, and I could spend hours just looking at her. But our company’s coming after midday. I haven’t finished preparing.”

“You brought them home to me.” Sinann nuzzled her daughter. “All I love. I wish you could have all you love, Moira.”

“I had a lifetime in a few weeks.” She gave the baby a last kiss, then glanced around in surprise as Ceara rushed in.

“Majesty. There’s someone... downstairs, there’s someone who wishes to see you.”

“Who?”

“I... I was only told there’s a visitor who’s traveled far to speak with you.”

Moira’s eyebrows shot up when Ceara dashed away again. “Well, whoever it is has her fluttered up. I’ll see you again later.”

She went out, brushing at her trousers. They’d been cleaning for days in preparation of the new year and her most anticipated guests. To see them again, she thought, to speak with them. To watch Larkin grin over his new niece.

Would they bring any word, any at all, of Cian?

She pressed her lips together, reminded herself not to let her inner grieving show. It was a time of celebration, of holiday. She would not put a pall over Geall after all they’d fought to preserve.

Something trembled along her skin as she started down the stairs. Shivered up her spine and to the base of her neck where her lover had liked to press his lips.

Then it trembled in her heart, and she began to run. That trembling heart began to race. And then to soar.

What she believed never could be was, and he was there, standing there, looking up at her.

“Cian.” The joy that had been shut away burst out of her, like music. “You came back.” She would have launched herself into his arms, but he was staring at her so intently, so strangely she wasn’t sure she’d be welcomed. “You came back.”

“I wondered what I’d see on your face. I wondered. Can we speak in private?”

“Of course. Aye, we’ll... ” Flustered, she looked around. “It seems we are. Everyone’s gone.” What could she do with her hands to stop them from touching him? “How did you come? How—”

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” he said, watching her. “The end of the old, the start of the new. I wanted to see you, on the edge of that change.”

“I wanted to see you, no matter when or where. The others come in a few hours. You’ll stay. Please say you’ll stay for the feasting.”

“It depends.”

Her throat burned as if she’d swallowed flame. “Cian. I know what you said in your letter was true, but it was hard, so hard, not to see you again. To have our last moment together standing in blood. I wanted... ” Tears flooded her eyes, and she nearly lost the war to will them back. “I wanted just a moment more. Now I have it.”

“Would you take more than a moment, if I could give it?”

“I don’t understand.” Then she smiled and choked back a sob when he drew the locket she’d given him from under his shirt. “You still wear it.”

“Yes, I still wear it. It’s one of my most treasured possessions. I left nothing of me behind for you. Now I’m asking, would you take more than that moment, Moira? Would you take this?” He lifted her hand, pressed it to his heart.

“Oh, I was afraid you didn’t want to touch me.” Her breath shuddered out with relief. “Cian, you know, you must know, that I... ”

The hand beneath his trembled, and her eyes went wide. “Your heart. Your heart beats.”

“Once I told you if it could beat, it would beat for you. It does.”

“It beats under my hand,” she whispered. “How?”

“A gift from the gods in the last moments of Yule. They gave me back what was taken from me.” Now he drew out the silver cross that hung around his neck with her locket. “It’s a man who stands before you, Moira.”

“Human,” she whispered. “You live.”

“It’s a man who loves you.” He pulled her toward the doors, flung them open so the sun poured over them. And because it was still so miraculous, he lifted his face, closed his eyes and let the stream of it bathe his face.

She couldn’t stop the tears now, or the sobs that came with them. “You’re alive. You came back to me and you’re alive.”

“It’s a man who stands before you,” he said again. “It’s a man who loves you. It’s a man who asks if you’ll share the life he’s been given, if you’ll live it with him. If you’ll take me as I am, and make a life with me. Geall will be my world, as you’re my world. It will be my heart, as you’re my heart. If you’ll have me.”