With Kaelus and Lanneth defeated, Daed and I stand atop the ruins of House Mordorin, armed with a force strong enoughto rival the Legion of Saints. The Golden Son’s reckoning is inevitable, justice awaiting him as surely as it did the fallen king and queen.
But for now, all I want is to lie in my husband’s arms and dare, just once, to dream of a world without pain—a world where battles end, ghosts fade, and we can find peace in each other’s embrace, if only for a moment.
Chapter 39
Kaelus has been mended and confined to his chambers under heavy guard, while Lanneth is dragged up the stairs to nowhere, taken to a room that does not exist. The clang of the iron bars slamming shut reverberates with finality. She is locked away in Zyphoro’s cage, a fitting prison for the queen who thought herself invincible.
With Lanneth’s power shackled, I feel a weight lift from my chest. The air is no longer thick with her malevolence; the dark shadow that loomed over us is gone, and for the first time, I can breathe deeply without fear. I watch as the last traces of her presence fade from the halls, her laughter silenced, and the hope that took root in me in The Grove seems to grow stronger with each passing day.
I turn my gaze to Daed, who stands beside me, the tension in his body slowly unwinding. With Kaelus and Lanneth out of the way, there is nothing holding us back. Our path is clear, and the possibilities stretch out before us like the horizon at dawn. No more secrets, no more manipulations—just us.
Lord Reon pledges his support to our cause, determined to rid the Sundered Kingdoms of the Golden Son once and for all. Lady Ilyra of Fyn’Rothar and Lord Sarberos of Thal’Morven also join our ranks. Yet to truly stand a chance, we need the houses united, which means persuading the twins, Vashar and Vasheeth, as well as Lord Horax. Modok will never side with us—I’m not blindly optimistic enough to expect miracles. But what we have should be enough. It has to be.
The next few days in Baev’kalath are a whirlwind of change. Daed immerses himself with the Reapers and Blades, working to establish a new order among them. While they pledge their loyalty to him, he remains worried that until he is crowned king, some will still resist. The next step is a coronation, but before the storm of politics and planning swallows us whole, we need a moment of calm.
Daed’s promise to take me back to Pariseth resurfaces, and I agree without hesitation. Zyphoro is left in charge of Baev’kalath, and Orios is appointed as Daed’s second-in-command to oversee the Blades. With our kingdom in capable hands, we set out into the night, escaping to the paradise that lies at the eye of the storm. The moment we land on soft grass, I can already feel the weight of the last few weeks lifting from my shoulders.
The silence here is healing—no metal clashing, no cries of pain. Just the sounds of birds and the gentle rush of the stream. Daed and I sleep for nearly two days, rarely stepping outside as our bodies recover. Even Ashen is exhausted, restricted to his kitten form after so much shifting. He sleeps even longer than Daed and me, his favorite spot at the moment appearing to be the enormous wardrobe in our bedchamber.
When we finally regain our energy, our days are filled with swimming in the cove, getting our hands dirty in the garden, and spending evenings lying on our backs in the long grass, gazingup at the stars. It couldn’t be more perfect. I do my best to savor the contentment, pushing aside worries about what lies ahead: The Golden Son and the shadow that Gygarth still casts over my prince. With Lanneth locked away in her enchanted prison, she can no longer control him, but she was merely a pawn in a greater game—a sinister force that still lurks within Baev’kalath. But even with her defeat, her machinations seem to unfold relentlessly. Soon enough, a Mordorin baby will be welcomed into the fortress, just as she planned, while Gygarth's insatiable hunger looms ever larger. Am I destined to meet my end like Queen Veloria?
Our fates will unfold in their own time, but that time is not tonight.
Tonight, Daed and I hide from the world, dancing to music only we can hear.
Soft moonlight spills through the arch, casting gentle shadows across our entwined bodies, his chest bare and smooth beneath my fingertips as I trace his runes and he trembles under my touch. We sway slowly, our movements languid and tender, lost in the quiet sanctuary we’ve carved out amidst the chaos.
“You are the sunrise in my perpetual night,” he whispers. “The dawn breaking through the clouds of my desolation. If you are scared, I will protect you. If you are sick, I will care for you. If you are lost, I will find you. Give me your heart, Amara, and I will be your servant until the end.”
Daed’s hand rests on my stomach, his touch featherlight as he gazes into my eyes, uncovering a part of me only he knows—a secret space that I allow only him to explore. With his other hand, he cradles my face, leaning down to draw me to his lips. He feels like everything I’ve ever wanted, and I kiss him with everything I have.
“I am yours, my queen,” he whispers, his words stirring a warmth that ripples through every nerve. “Use me as you will until such time as I am spent.”
I laugh lightly as he brushes his nose against mine, and I forgot all my cares, that mystical balm of his working its magic on my memories, until all I remember is now. All I remember is this. I am a rabbit released from a snare, yet in this moment, I have no desire to run.
Daed guides me to the bed, and as I sink into the silken sheets, the world outside fades into a distant memory. Every touch, every movement between us feels beautifully slow, as if time has released its hold, allowing us to exist in this suspended moment. In the heart of Pariseth, our sanctuary, we have the power to stretch seconds into hours, turning fleeting days into an eternity.
Every brush of his fingers ignites my senses like wildfire. As he leans down, his breath warms my neck, sending shivers cascading down my spine. His lips find my collarbone, trailing soft, fervent kisses that leave a tingling path in their wake.
“Amara,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice low and husky, thick with desire. The sound sends a thrill through me as he kisses along my neck, savoring the delicate curve, before descending to my breasts. His mouth finds my nipple, teasing it with gentle flicks of his tongue, coaxing soft gasps from my lips. Each caress sends waves of heat pooling within me, urging me to close the distance, to meld our bodies into one.
I arch my back, pressing against him, craving more of his warmth, more of his essence. His hands glide down my sides, fingers exploring the curves of my body with a mix of tenderness and hunger. When he cups my thighs, a rush of heat floods through me as he pushes my legs apart, exposing myself to him completely.
I can feel his breath hitch as he takes in the sight of me, vulnerable and open before him. As his lips travel lower, heplants soft kisses along my thigh, teasingly close to where I need him most. His tongue flicks out, tasting the delicate skin between my legs, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my entire being.
Then, with a sudden surge of desire, his fingers slip between my legs, finding their way inside me. I gasp, my body instinctively arching toward him, welcoming the sensation as he moves with a skilled, knowing rhythm. His fingers are warm and firm, curling and thrusting in a way that pushes me closer to the edge, while his mouth works its magic, licking and teasing the sensitive skin, heightening the pleasure.
I clutch at the sheets, my nails digging into the fabric as I lose myself in the exquisite feeling of him inside me. Each thrust is both tender and demanding, the dual sensations of his fingers and tongue driving me wild. My breath quickens, mingling with the sounds of our shared pleasure, and I can feel the world around us blur into nothingness.
His fingers delve deeper, curling just right. I can feel the tightening knot in my core unraveling, my breath hitching in my throat. My body trembles with anticipation and then, with a final thrust and a flick of his tongue a wave of ecstasy crashes over me like a tidal wave. I cry out, a sound of pure bliss escaping my lips.
He doesn’t stop. He rides the waves with me, his fingers continuing their sweet torment, coaxing every last tremor from my body.
“More,” I whisper, and he responds with a primal growl, capturing my mouth with his in a fierce kiss that steals the breath from my lungs, his taste blending with my own arousal.
His gaze darkens as he settles between my legs, radiating warmth and strength. The weight of his body presses down on me, and my fingers instinctively reach for his length, wrapping around it. I slide my hand along the contours, the smoothness ofhis skin contrasting sharply with the hard, pulsing warmth that fills my hand.
A low, guttural moan escapes his lips, reverberating through me like a spell. His brow furrows slightly, lips parting as he breathes deeply, the sound of his pleasure intoxicating. He leans into my grasp, his hips instinctively seeking more friction, more contact, and I can feel him pulse against my palm.
