The Only One

She wouldn't let it take her.
    "I love you," she blurted out. Saying the words was almost an act of defiance, her last stand against the fear that threatened to render her helpless. "And it scares me to death," she whispered hoarsely.
    Romjha framed her face in his hands. The dim light seemed overly bright. It took a few moments to see clearly, so long had it been since she'd wept. But when she could, she saw love shining in Romjha's incredible eyes. And something else. Something she could not believe. The one thing she'd so hated in herself.
    Fear. The great warrior felt fear, too.
    "You're afraid," she whispered incredulously.
    "You didn't know?"
    She thought of all the times he'd stepped in, trying to keep her from harm. She'd seen it as chivalry and later devotion. But a good deal of it had been fear. He, too, was afraid of what the world would take from him.
    "All the raiders I've known have felt fear at one time or another." He paused to watch her carefully. "Even Joren."
    Even my father.
    "You are no coward, Taj Sai." He shook his head. "I'd rather not count all the times I've sought to protect you when you've put others ahead of yourself."
    "I'd rather not count the times, either."
    Romjha said nothing more. He regarded her, his gaze brilliant gold, intense, his facial muscles taut as he waited . . . waited for her to understand. To see.
    The air fairly vibrated, charged and expectant. Taj swallowed hard and closed her eyes, turning her thoughts inward as she so often did when praying. Only this time she looked inside herself for inspiration.
    For strength. And saw a warrior. A fighter with vulnerabilities, with fears. But. . .
    "Courage is the resistance to fear," she whispered. "The control of fear." The realization exploded within her, and her eyes flew open. "It's not letting the fear rule you."
    "Yes." Romjha's gaze burned into hers. If he could acknowledge his fear, as did others she admired, even her beloved raider father, then by the heavens she could, too. Without anger.
    She'd long believed that courage was the absence of fear. But she'd been wrong. Knowing that made the terror she felt now more manageable. If only she'd tried talking through her secret shame with any of the men. It would have saved her a lot of suffering and self-doubt. But that hadn't been in her nature.
    Perhaps her guarded ways were why her relationship with Aleq hadn't worked out. He'd loved blowing things up as passionately as she set herself to making bombs. His mischievous eyes and cocky grin could infuriate her as well as make her laugh. But she'd kept her soul hidden from him, and Aleq hadn't bothered to seek it out. She wasn't sure what made Romjha so able to draw her out, but thank the heavens for it.
    Having someone so intent on dismantling her defenses was a new and exhilarating experience.
    Slowly, wanly, she smiled at Romjha. It had taken the determination of this amazing man to accomplish what she hadn't been able to do alone. "I'm so blasted stubborn," she said. "So proud."
    "It was your pride that first attracted me to you. And your passion. Not to mention your unpredictability."
    Romjha's smile touched her heart. "I knew then as I know now—a life with you will never be dull."
    A genuine laugh escaped her. "Nor will one with you, my dear commander."
    She held out her hands. Arms outstretched, he met her halfway, taking her fingers in his strong, callused grip. He lifted her hands to his mouth, pressed his lips to her knuckles. Heat streamed up her arms and made her shiver. Tears pressed behind her eyes, and yet she smiled. On the day of his departure, she felt both more miserable and yet more alive than she ever had. It made no sense. But what did anymore?
    In silence, she walked with him to the door, and into the dark and quiet tunnel outside the sanctuary of her room. Her stomach churned; her mouth was dry. She wanted to rail at Romjha not to go, to grab at his clothing and beg him to stay—to stay safe, to hide, to try to eke out whatever pleasures they could in the dark manner in which they had lived before the Vedla prince had fallen from the skies.
    Romjha squeezed her hand, as if he sensed her thoughts. Taj's vision hazed over. Somehow she held back a second onset of tears. It came with practice. She'd had lots of that.
    She would let him go; he had great things to accomplish, her protector. Her father, she thought, would be so proud of the man he'd treated as a son. As was she. And when Romjha returned