I seize his hand and pull him with me, along the dirt track leading out of the village and up to the fields. As my bare feet sink into the first crumbly rows of soil, I release a long breath of delight.
“Come on!” I release his hand and run.
He keeps up with me easily as I lead him up the slopes, to a point where we can see the village below, smoke feathering from its chimneys, with the entire sky sprawling above, awash with sunset orange and pink and blue. To our left rises the mountain, dark and powerful, an ever-present reminder of our mortality—which makes life here all the sweeter.
“Would you have scorched my village?” I ask. “If I had refused to come with you?”
“A little of it, maybe.”
“Cruel man.”
“Kings sometimes have to be cruel.” He sighs, taking in the view. “It’s beautiful, Cailin. I can see why you love it. I’m sorry that you cannot wield the water here, as you used to. You don’t speak of it, but I know you miss it. If only I had asked questions before I burned everyone—your parents, that Cheimhold spy, the tattoo mage who Muted you—”
His face is darkening, and I can’t bear it.
“Perish.” I press my hand to his cheek, turn his face toward me. “Time flows on. Set the memory aside. You and I—we’ve both made terrible mistakes, big and small. We can only move forward and do better.”
He nods, his features relaxing.
“And you don’t have to be sorry about burning up that tattoo mage. He was already rotted when you burned him. Besides, I found a way around the rule.”
I shift one of my wooden bracelets aside, revealing bare unmarred skin where my Muting tattoo used to be.
Perish seizes my arm. “What? How is this possible?”
“I Rotted the skin where the tattoo was, and then I healed myself. It hurt, but it was worth it.” I grin at him, and he meets my eyes, astonished glee sparking in his gaze.
There’s a rivulet of water nearby, a thin stream left over from the work of Evan, the water-wielder from Kuisp, who’s been helping my village in my absence. I pull on that stream, sensing its tether to the river far down the slopes. I’ve grown stronger since I’ve been gone, and it seems easier than ever to draw the water to me. I divide it into thin, glittering ribbons and raise it high, surrounding us with a dancing, swaying veil of liquid streams, crisscrossing each other and arching over us. The bright glow of the setting sun sparkles in the shifting water, turning it to jeweled amber.
“Cailin, you wonder.” The Ash King pulls me in, melds his smooth warm lips to mine. His hot, wet tongue swirls through my mouth, and fierce need spikes at my core.
We’ve made love in a real bed many times now—he’s been my comfort in every way these past few weeks. But I love seducing him in unexpected places. Or maybe he’s seducing me.
I lace my arms around his neck, licking lightly along his cheekbone. He releases a shuddering sigh, urging his hips closer to mine, and I smile, because he’s so hard for me, like always.
“Take me here,” I whisper. “Right here in the field, where I was when you called for me.”
He hesitates. “Are you sure?”
He’s asking, delicately, if this is appropriate, given the goodbye we’ve just said to my parents.
“I can feel their spirits,” I murmur. “I want them to know I’m happy. Please, Perish—love me here.”
“Anywhere and always.” He presses a tender kiss to my mouth and lays me down on the rich soil, amid the dancing veil of the water. I don’t have to move my fingers to wield it—it maintains a shimmering shield around us while Perish folds up my skirts and draws my pantalettes down my legs. He unbuttons his pants and settles against me as I open for him.
I love the moment when he first pushes inside me—it feels new every time, a parting of my inner self to let him in. He eases in and out of me with a slow, steady, utterly tantalizing rhythm. With each surge of his hard length through my body, I’m swelling, warming, liquefying for him, aching for more.
He slips out and drags the head of his cock through my slickness before gliding into me again.
“Gods, Cailin,” he says raggedly. “Every time. Every time you feel so good I can hardly believe it.”
“Harder,” I plead, and I touch my chest.
He understands immediately, planting his right hand in the place where he once burned me. He lets his palm heat my skin, not painfully, just enough to make me gasp with pleasure. Then he sweeps it lower, over my breasts. My legs curl tight on either side of his waist.
Perish straightens, cupping my bottom with both hands, lifting my hips and thrusting harder, while I throw my arms above my head and give myself up to the beauty of the sky, the scent of the fresh earth, and the sight of my King fucking me deep and sweet. He looks magnificent like this, with the fiery sky behind him and his fiery eyes fixed on me. Thrills pulse through my clit, over and over, intensifying with every thrust. I’m so close.
“Kiss me again,” I say, and he comes down to me, aligning his body with mine, his hips rocking while he savors my mouth.
On impulse, I push against his shoulder, and he lets me roll us both over until I’m on top with my skirts scattered over us. His lips part and his eyes glaze over with pleasure, with admiration. I sink onto him so deep that a cry of infinite bliss escapes me. I ride him there in the fields, while a flock of birds soar from a faraway cluster of feathery palms and fly toward the mountain.
The Ash King is tensing under me, rhythmic male groans breaking from his mouth. I can feel his thick shaft twitching, throbbing. His abdomen contracts as he suddenly sits halfway up, reaches for me, jiggles my clit rapidly with two warm fingertips. The shock of that clever touch finishes me, and I come hard, shrieking breathlessly as the sun sinks behind the mountain, as he erupts into his own bliss with a deep cry.
Perish falls back, splayed on the earth, still pulsing inside me while I clench around him. I’m gasping, shining, my hands braced on his chest. When I release the veil of water, it falls in a shower of drops, soaking into the soil.
We’re filthy in more ways than one, scarred and sorrowful in places that will never quite heal. But we have precious memories, crystallized both in the Capital and in this place, and we will make more together, a lifetime of them.
I trace the Ash King’s nose, fondle the edge of his sharp jaw. “I love you,” I tell him.
The glow in his eyes matches the sunset. “And I love you—Your Majesty.”
