Alashiya’s heartbeat and panting breaths synced with his. Her needs bled into his own. Her thoughts were an endless stream of love and potent desire.
When she needed him to move faster, he didn’t have to be told. When she wanted him deeper, until he sheathed himself to the hilt with every forceful stroke, he answered her wordless call.
And when she demanded he finish, he was helpless to refuse her. Taevas emptied himself inside her with a low cry. Alashiya clenched hard as his release painted the hot walls of her cunt. “So,” she said, breathless and unmistakably sated, “do we have a deal, Isand?”
Taevas pumped shallowly, luxuriating in the wet glide. Scraping his teeth against her jaw, he reached down to stroke her with greedy fingers. She shuddered beneath him.
Not even close to done with her, he growled, “Not so fast, Emand. We might have to negotiate all night. I hope you’re prepared to take me again. And again.”
Alashiya reached back to fist a hand in his hair. “I’m queen of this grove. I can take anything you give me.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Construction beganon the atrium the same day nymphs began to show up at the gates of Drummond Island.
At first, no one quite knew what to do with them. A single envoy was one thing, but as the weeks since their return to the Draakonriik passed, word had spread through the fine, distant networks of groves that existed in the UTA. It wasn’t just the nymph congressional representative who showed up looking for an audience with the new Emand. It was the queens of groves great and small, sprawling and singular.
They traveled at great effort and expense, sometimes on foot and sometimes in vans, luxury vehicles, or even on bicycles. Nymphs from all walks of life showed up. The dragons greeted them warmly but with bewilderment, unsure about what would draw so many of the historically shy people to the heart of their territory.
Alashiya herself didn’t quite know what to make of it. She’d barely begun to settle into the ’Riik, which was so foreign to her it might as well have been another planet. To suddenly have an influx of nymphs at her proverbial door, looking to her for favors, guidance, or just out of pure curiosity made her vaguely nauseous.
But they were there, and she couldn’t send them away.
A temporary hub was set up on the mainland to house and meet with the visitors. Alex, who’d recently gotten a promotion in the government’s PR office, was assigned to take over the project. Alashiya had no idea what she’d do without her. While she took meeting after meeting, hearing from nymphs of all walks of life and parts of the continent, Alex managed their lodgings, complaints, and other needs. She also put out memos and ran interference when it just became too much for Alashiya.
It often did.
She had no idea how much power being the Emand gave her until the nymphs came, each one of them expecting her to fix their problems. It wasn’t all land disputes and complaints about taxes. It was pleas for help finding lost grove members, requests to join hers, and the worn-in sort of desperation that cloaked the lost. Sometimes she felt like they came to her more for a listening ear than for a solution.
It quickly became apparent to her why Taevas wanted to ease her into life as the Emand. Alashiya could draw on the hyphae for lessons on how to be a leader, how to be a good queen, but managing a modern territory was a different beast entirely. It took fleets of skilled people to get anything done, and even then, she was amazed at what they were capable of doing.
When she jokingly pitched her idea for what to do with that empty atrium, she didn’t think it would actually bepossible.Perhaps, after everything, she should’ve known better.
Within a week, Taevas found contractors, engineers, and specialist gardeners to help achieve her dream. The floor was torn out, an extensive irrigation system that mimicked natural conditions installed, and several tons of soil, rock, and plantlife moved in. An artificial creek carved a winding path through the thicket of undergrowth, subtly following the main branch of the paths to the various doors that ringed the room.
Over the months that followed, Alashiya took her meetings with the queens there, tucked beneath the boughs of young birch trees carefully transplanted from her land. It didn’t feel like homeright away. Nothing could. Not when her constant companion had been the forest and its ancient heartbeat.
But roots grow in healthy soil, and so did her connection with the ’Riik.
As her own little forest began to flourish, she did, too. The atrium filled out with verdant ferns, prickly berry bushes, and wildflowers. A beehive was brought in, and so were rescued birds who couldn’t be rereleased into the wild. Whenever life in the ’Riik became too strange and overwhelming, Alashiya followed the burbling creek, her bare feet cushioned by the forest floor, and came home again.
Taevas called the atrium her sanctuary, but it was one she was happy to share with everyone. While Hele and Alex were frequent and beloved visitors who brought joy, laughter, and often something new for her to experience, it was Radek who joined her most often. She’d heard whispers and less-than-kind jokes about him in passing, but to her he was a kindred spirit. They both found peace in the little forest, and although they didn’t talk much, they shared what was important: the understanding of impossible loss.
After a lifetime of loneliness, she didn’t take any bit of companionship for granted — even if she still enjoyed her alone time. When she really needed that, she retreated to her sewing room, which connected to Taevas’s woodworking shop. Everyone knew to leave her alone when she had her needle in hand.
She spoke to her ghosts while she worked, just as she always had, but now she pulled silken thread wound with gold through fine fabrics for the pure joy of it rather than the grinding need to survive. Sometimes Taevas joined her after a long day of meetings, but he knew her well enough to sit in companionable silence until she set her needle aside.
Then they’d retire to their suite for the evening, where they’d cook dinner together — something she insisted on when he had the audacity to suggest they continue to use his chef — and discuss the events of the day. In the most important ways, nothinghad changed from how they spent their time in Birchdale. Her fears that she wouldn’t fit in his life were unfounded when the only thing that mattered was how well they fit together.
It was while they sat at their kitchen island, sharing a meal and a glass of wine, that she brought up the idea of the Nymph Network.
“I don’t want to rule anyone. Ormorepeople than the ’Riik, I guess,” she explained, sharing a worry she’d been mulling over for weeks. “Not in the way my ancestors used to, anyway. I want to be the… the connection between my people.”
Taevas nodded and took a sip of his wine. He’d always been in favor of her reviving the defunct title of her line, but they’d debated it enough that he didn’t appear surprised by her decision. “What’s the best way to do that, d’you think?”
“I… think I’m going to take their oaths,” she answered, “but not as their queen. I want to take it as their equal.”
Setting down his glass, he asked, “What does that entail?”
