Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 221 - Two Hundred And Twenty

Marissa sat back on the soft mattress, her legs curled beneath her. She held the silver locket up to the light to his face, letting the fire’s glow catch the polished metal. It swung gently from its chain, a pendulum marking the seconds they had left.

"I prayed on it," she said softly, her voice filled with a quiet intensity that made Derek’s heart ache. She looked at the silver heart as if it were a holy relic. "I took it to the church in the city. I knelt for hours on the cold stone floor until my knees were numb. I asked the saints to watch over you."

She looked up at him, her eyes serious, dark pools in the dim light.

"And I also took it to the ancestors in the hall," she whispered. "I lit incense. I bowed to your ancestors, to your father’s tablet. I bowed to Theodore’s. I asked them to guide your sword."

She reached out and placed the locket in his hands. Her fingers lingered on his palm, reluctant to let go, tracing the lines of his fate.

"Let them all protect you," she said. "The new gods and the old. I don’t care who listens, as long as one of them keeps you safe."

Derek looked down at the silver heart. It felt heavy in his hand, weighted with her prayers and her fear. He ran his thumb over the engraving of her name. Marissa. It was a permanent mark.

"You must carry it with you at all times," she commanded gently, her voice trembling slightly. "Over your heart. Do not take it off. Not for a bath. Not for sleep. Not for battle. Promise me."

"I promise," Derek said.

He pressed the small catch.

Click.

The locket sprang open.

Inside was a miniature painting. It wasn’t a formal, stiff portrait like the ones in the gallery. It was Marissa, but not the Grand Duchess. It was Marissa in the garden, Marissa at the festival, wearing the flower wreath he had made, her hair loose and wild, her eyes crinkled with genuine, unguarded happiness.

She was smiling. It was the smile he loved, the one that had broken through his defenses.

Derek felt a lump form in his throat. He felt touched, deeply and profoundly. It was a piece of her soul, captured in paint. It was the woman he was leaving behind.

"Mari," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

He looked up at her. He saw the love in her eyes, a love that terrified him because he knew how much it would hurt to lose it.

"I’ll miss you," he whispered. "So much. It already hurts. It feels like leaving a part of myself here."

A tear escaped Marissa’s eye. It rolled down her cheek, a single, betraying drop that sparkled in the firelight. She quickly turned her head, trying to hide it, trying to be strong for him. She didn’t want him to remember her crying.

But Derek caught her. He reached out and cupped her face, turning her back to him. His hands were warm and rough, a soldier’s hands, but his touch was incredibly gentle. He used his thumb to wipe the tear away, catching it before it could fall.

"Don’t hide," he said softly. "Not from me."

Marissa looked at him. Her lip trembled. The wall she had built around her heart was gone.

"Come home safely," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Promise me. Promise me you will come back."

She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight, her nails digging into his skin.

"Otherwise...." she started.

She stopped. She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say the words "if you die." The thought was a black void she refused to look into.

Derek looked at her, confused but tender. "Otherwise what?"

Marissa took a deep breath. She summoned her old defiance, her old strength, the part of her that fought dirty to survive.

"Otherwise," she said, her voice gaining a shaky edge of threat, "I will never forgive you. I will curse your name."

She poked him in the chest, right over his heart.

"And do you remember?" she asked, her eyes flashing with a desperate fire. "I am still with my own divorce paper. I never tore mine up. It is hidden in my vanity."

She glared at him, trying to look fierce through her tears.

"If you don’t come back..." she lied, "I’ll sign it. I’ll leave. I’ll take everything. The estate. The money. The Golden Swan. I will marry a wealthy merchant and forget you ever existed.

I will..."

It was a brave lie. A way to tell him he had to come back to fight her. A way to tell him she wouldn’t mourn him; she would replace him.

Derek laughed softly. It was a low, rumble in his chest. He knew she was bluffing. He knew she had burned that paper long ago in her heart, even if the physical copy remained.

He didn’t let her finish her threat.

He leaned in and shut her up by kissing her.

It was a hard, desperate kiss. A kiss that tasted of longing. It wasn’t gentle. It was urgent. It was a claim.

Marissa didn’t wait to be told. She deepened the kiss immediately. She opened her mouth to him, inviting him in. Her hands moved from his chest to his hair, tangling in the dark strands, pulling him closer, anchoring him to her.

She kissed him hungrily, fiercely, as if he wasn’t going to return. As if she could imprint herself on his lips so he would never forget the taste of her, even in the cold winds of Strathmore.

Her hands began to undress him. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, her fingers shaking with urgency. She pushed the fabric off his shoulders, needing to feel his skin, needing the heat of him against her.

His hands weren’t idle either. He pulled at the ties of her robe. He slid his hands under the silk, finding the warmth of her waist, the curve of her hip. He touched her as if he were memorizing her shape with his fingertips.

They worshipped each other’s bodies. Every touch was a prayer. Every kiss was a vow. They moved together on the bed, a tangle of limbs and love, trying to make a memory that would last through a long, cold winter.

Derek pressed her back against the pillows. He hovered over her, his eyes dark with desire, his face flushed.

"Marissa," he groaned, his voice rough. "My wife."

He lowered his head to kiss her neck, his lips finding the pulse that beat frantically beneath her skin.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound was sharp, loud, and insistent. It shattered the moment like a hammer through glass. It was the sound of reality intruding on their sanctuary.

They froze. Derek’s head snapped up. Marissa gasped, pulling the sheet up to cover herself.

"Your Grace!" Ian’s voice called from the hallway. It was breathless, urgent.