But then she snapped when she remembered something. "So you had taken in two mistresses, I mean concubines?" There was an edge to Lara's voice that she did not even notice.
Alaric frowned. He never liked those concubines.
"I divorced them and sent them back to their families. I promise you, I will only have one wife, and that is you!" he said seriously.
The words hung between them like suspended breath. Then—slowly, carefully—Lara leaned in. Her head came to rest against his shoulder, tentative but real. Alaric stiffened only for a moment, then relaxed, resting his cheek atop her hair.
No kiss. No grand pronouncement. Just two hearts, beating in cautious unison.
Outside, the last droplets of rain kissed the earth. The double rainbow began to fade, but for Lara, the moment only grew brighter.
They sat like that in silence, the kind that spoke louder than words. And though the road ahead to the Norse mansion still stretched long, one thing was clear to Lara:
