The Sunspire [m] Lying in the dark with a wake curled over my head

More than anything, she wanted to believe him.
If she was honest with herself, she didn't. Not yet. How could she? Lestan had made so many of the same promises; he'd kept them, too, until he hadn't. Until the day he'd looked her in the eyes and told her that to be the best version of himself, he had to be away from her. How could she trust that anyone would continue to want her, after that?
But she knew that she would never learn to trust Boone if she didn't try. The only way to heal from these wounds, then, was to take the risk; to accept that maybe she would be burned again, and maybe it would be the last time. The thought frightened her.
And then —
For a moment she didn't understand. Reverie blinked at him, eyes wide and filled with gentle surprise. His wife? His —
Yes, She didn't think about it. Not even for a moment. Reverie ducked her head to kiss him even before he rose from his bow, not letting herself think about the future or what this meant or how very quickly it was all happening. In a way it was healing; hadn't she waited for months, wept for months for a man who would not call her wife until the very end? And here was Boone, who had known her for mere weeks, asking her to be his.
There was nothing she wanted more.