Mars turned to the window.

He did not see anything out of doors, but not because it was dark.

All he could see were the twin flames that burned as a reflection in the glass.

Mars did not sleep a moment of that night after he returned to his Silence and again pulled her into his arms.

And thus, he was awake in the morning when she stirred.

He tipped his chin down and watched her rub her face against his chest before she pulled slightly away, blinked sleepily at it, and then tilted her head back to catch his eyes.

The silver in hers went liquid with affection before it shifted, and remorse filled her face.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Mars moved swiftly.

He pressed the pads of his middle three fingers tenderly against her lips and murmured, “You need not speak of it.”

Silence moved in order to wrap her fingers around his wrist and pull his hand to her throat.

“I compared you to him,” she whispered.

“You need not speak of it,” he repeated.

“My love—” she began but ceased speaking when he crushed her to him.

Curling into her, falling into her, forming a shield around her wee body, he pressed his face into the fragrant hair at the top of her head.

There, he declared fiercely, “I wish my father was alive. He would dote on you, Silence. You would walk into a room, and he would smile, and the world would fall away until he had asked how you were and knew you were well and happy. He would boast greatly of your hair and your wit and your silver eyes and your intelligence. He would live for the sound of your laughter. He would memorize every single smile. He would slay dragons for you. He would move mountains for you.”

Her, “Mars,” was muffled.

But he was not finished.

“He would love you, amore, to the marrow of his bones.”

It took effort Mars forced her to make in order to push her head back to try to catch his eyes.

He, however, did not force her to make the effort of gaining his gaze.

He gave it to her.

“This is what you had from him,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“And this is what you give to me.”

“Yes,” he stated.

She closed that silver from him.

Thus, he demanded, “Give me your eyes.”

She opened them for him.

“I love that you had that, Mars.”

“I do as well.”

“And I owe him much for he gave you that and now you can give it to me.”

He loosened his hold on her enough that he could bend his neck to rest his forehead to hers.

“I am so very sorry I said what I—” she began.

“Do not speak of it, my love.”

“I was angry that you spoke to me the way you did, but I should never have said those words to you. We had become heated, you were trying to open a discussion to cool things, and I lashed out, and I cannot tell you how much I regret it.”