Stavanger Bay They say that no one dies from love

Reverie knew in the next moment that Lestan would need her, that he must have done what she'd asked of him. Too much a flower to do anything but wither in the darkness; for her, for her! She shifted then, and cleaned the blood from herself with brisk motions. The gilded girl was left greatly weakened by her ordeal. Yet she lived, and with each passing moment felt a new swell of strength in her limbs and her chest. She took in a deep breath, ears twitching, and cast her eyes around the dimmed cave only once before she reached for Lestan. The scents of salt and magic shimmered in the air, but there was blood, too. So much blood.
I'm here, he said, and she could only wonder how long it would be before that changed. She had seen the day he would leave her. It would come, she knew, and in the same way she knew what would become of her.
Reverie's eyes flicked briefly to the entrance of the cave, and beyond, where the ocean beckoned her even now. But today was not that day. Today, she would live. She started to groom Lestan in silence, careful to avoid his wounds, even more careful still to avoid any thought of how he had come by them. Riordan was surely dead, by Lestan's actions no less, and perhaps she should have cared more…
But she just didn't.