Fear flickered behind Serect’s composed mask. Real, raw terror that he tried to bury beneath political theater.
“You actually did it,” he said, his voice laced with practiced warmth. “Cinderhollow is safe. The Ashen Realms are safe. We owe you a debt.”
His tone shifted, silk wrapping around steel. “But your choices—disobeying orders, altering the rift’s magic, concealing your mate bond—must still be…examined.”
There it is.Serenya’s jaw tightened.He wants the glory of our victory and the punishment of our supposed crimes.
Vaelrik leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. “Now is the time to finally expose him in front of everyone.”
Serenya’s pulse quickened with anticipation. They’d uncovered the truth last night about Archon’s schemes. His signature on funding documents for Rowen’s research, his strategic weakening of defenses, and his orchestrated rise to power built on the very crisis he’d helped create. This “heroic” containment directive between witch and dragon had been his endgame—solve his problem or eliminate his most dangerous weapon.
Her hand brushed against Vaelrik’s. “Go ahead,” she murmured. “Tell them the truth. I’ll stand beside you.”
The mate bond hummed with united resolve, their combined strength flowing between them like molten gold.
Vaelrik stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chamber’s tension. He produced the document bearing Serect’s signature, the parchment crackling as he unrolled it for all to see.
“Archon Serect sponsored Rowen Corvane’s early research,” Vaelrik announced, his words striking the assembled nobles like hammer blows. “He funded the very experiments that created the shadow-plague. His decrees weakened our defenses and fed the Shadowbinder’s rise.”
Gasps rippled through the chamber. The three elders leaned forward, shock etched across their faces. Serect’s carefully constructed façade cracked like thin glass under pressure.
Before Serect could regain his footing, Vaelrik’s voice rang out with the authority of a warlord who had saved the realm. “I am done serving a Council that hides behind lies while the realm bleeds. I renounce my duties as the Council’s enforcer.”
He’s magnificent,Serenya thought, watching him command the room with the kind of presence that made dragons bow their heads.This is who he was meant to be. Not their weapon. His own man.
Vaelrik stepped back to stand with her—not ahead, not beside, butwithher. A free man choosing his mate above all else. The symbolism sent shockwaves through the chamber.
Some nobles looked relieved. Others appeared terrified. A few actually bowed—not to the Council’s former enforcer, but to them as a united force.
Kyr stepped forward with several Obsidian soldiers at his back, their movements quiet and efficient. The political corner they’d backed the Council into left no room for maneuvering.
The vote was swift and decisive: Archon Serect was stripped of office and exiled.
As guards moved to escort him out, Serect’s mask finally shattered completely. His serpentine composure crumbled into something raw and desperate as he was dragged away, his voice echoing off the chamber walls in furious protests about injustice.
But Serenya realized something in that moment—Serect had never truly been afraid of Vaelrik’s power or his curse. He’d been terrified ofher. Of the witch he thought he could control, manipulate, and ultimately discard.
He was sorely mistaken about that,she thought with grim satisfaction.No one will control me ever again.
They returned to Vaelrik’s quarters in comfortable silence, Tamsin dozing against Serenya’s shoulder. Serenya felt the faint hum of Tamsin’s magic like a second heartbeat against her. The child stirred as they entered the space, blinking up at them with those innocent eyes.
“Are we safe now?” Tamsin asked softly.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Serenya said, settling onto the bed with her. “We’re safe.”
When Kyr arrived for dinner later that evening, he brought news that made Serenya’s chest tighten with something close to hope. The three remaining Council elders had issued new orders. Witches would no longer serve as conscripted servants.They would be treated as equals, with rights and protections under Council law.
“It’s not perfection,” Kyr said, his scarred face unusually relaxed. “But it’s change.”
Serenya nodded, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what they’d accomplished. She stood at the center of a shifting world—not because she’d wanted that power, but because she’d earned the dragons’ respect through strength and sacrifice.
After dinner, Kyr offered to watch Tamsin for the night. “You two need time alone,” he said simply. “After everything that’s happened.”
Serenya felt a tug of reluctance at leaving Tamsin, but she recognized the wisdom in his words. She and Vaelrik needed peace and needed to process what they’d built together.
When they were finally alone in his quarters, Vaelrik wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. The mate bond settled into perfect harmony between them.
“Thank you,” he murmured against her hair. “For being my strength, my anchor, my mate. For seeing something worth saving in a cursed weapon.”
