He held
her, half leaning on his stick, and trembling as he kissed her proudly
on the forehead, and then, after gazing deep into her eyes, he kissed
her again -ever so tenderly- upon the lips, a long, burning, unbroken
contact, putting a lifetime of pent-up passion into one searing eternal
moment. If broken in body, he was still yet noble in spirit. Then they
broke apart, and stood looking long into each other's faces with a
newfound understanding such as rendered all of Si'Wren's lifelong
torments but a chaotic dream.
Habrunt held her in his strong, gentle hands and looked at her, really
looked at her. He searched her eyes again, desperately seeking
something, and finally, crinkled his own in a willing expression of
deep inner rejoicing.
"Do not fail to come back to me, Si'Wren," said Habrunt, becoming more
serious. "If your heart has not cooled these many years apart from me,
let no meddlesome soothsayer tell you that mine has done otherwise.
Remember; if I do not hear from you soon, I shall come and petition the
Emperor myself, and your own hand as Royal Scribe shall record it."
Si'Wren, still looking straight into his eyes, did not move in the
slightest degree, and her face became luminous and radiant as she
finally nodded, her eyes utterly lost within his.
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