"Thee has the right of it, I wot," she agrees, smiling up at him. "It suits thee. Or mayhap thee suits it. But --"

She's not even sure how to explain it, just that he belongs, fair and bright and shining, with ease in his manner and laughter in his sea-colored eyes, and she's ever so enchanted with him all over again in a way that has naught at all to do with the evils of magic that are so very, very far away from them both now.

"It's right, somehow. And it's wonderful, say true."