“Lyra? What did you find out?” Cerilla asked softly, leaning forwards on her elbows.
“Mostly just more unanswered questions.” I closed my eyes, imagining the molten monsters that spoke in riddles. The memory felt hazy, like it was far away, and I couldn’t quite grasp it. I sat up straight. My head spinning from the sudden movement.
“Something about Kingdoms. They said…” I pressed my fingers to my temples, rubbing the ache that was throbbing in my head. “It’s up tometo unite them.”
“We have been trying for years. What would you suggest?” the Commander said through clenched teeth.
WhatcouldIdo? My stomach twisted and a fresh wave of nausea washed over me with the realisation. My hand inmarriage would have united the Northern and Southern territories. Could marriage unite two warring Kingdoms? Perhaps I needed to do what I was bred to do all this time. Submit to a man.
“Do you have a king?” I asked breathlessly.
“Four courts rule the Fae lands—Ember, Frost, Dawn and Obsidian. Each governs their own territory.” Solas tilted his head curiously at me as he answered. “But the Obsidian Court’s high lord,” he added slowly, “commands the others.”
“Take me to him,” I demanded, raising my chin and letting my voice carry across the small clearing. The Commander’s body went still beneath me as the sound of wood crackling in the fire broke the silence.
“Why would I do that?” He asked.
The others watched me intently and I squared my shoulders, swallowing the bile that clawed its way up my throat. Slowly, I lifted my gaze—first to Cerilla, then to Solas, and finally to the male whose arms still circled me like he hadn’t decided whether to hold or break me.
“I am Lyra Meridian.” Solas stilled and Cerilla’s eyes widened.
I lifted my chin, forcing the words past the ache in my chest. “Daughter of King Vaylor, and Princess to the Mortal Kingdom.” Silence crashed down around us, and the Commander became unnaturally still.
“I will offer my hand in marriage to the Obsidian Court’s ruler,” I continued, voice raw but unwavering. “To bind our realms and fight the Seven Hells.”
Twenty-Eight
Eavesdropping
The Commander tensed beneath me, his forefinger and thumb suddenly gripping my chin, tilting my head to look up at him. “You are the daughter of King Vaylor?” he growled, a low rumbling sound. I nodded, one sharp movement that would seal my fate.
“Well, this just got more complicated, didn’t it?” Cerilla sighed deeply.
“Why the fuck were you with the Iron Guard?” There was a slight pull to his words through the heaviness lacing my veins, urging me to answer. I tried to resist, but words spilled against my will. He was using the blood bargain.Asshole.
“I… I ran away.” The words clawed up my throat despite my best efforts to stop them. “They were going to make me marry viscount Barden. He was vile. I snuck into Asencion and sacrificed myself to the Gods. I thought I would die. Iwantedto die.” My voice grew thick as tears swam in my eyes. He looked down at me, and sadness reflected in his empty eyes.
“Please, I do not want to talk about my past,” I begged,hating the wetness that clung to my eyelashes and the heat that crawled over my face.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Tell me word for word what the Fire Fates said.”
His shadows were pulling at his skin, sinking and tearing it repeatedly. It was mesmerising, watching his own power try to hurt him. The words slipped out, low, dreamlike, pulled from the haze still thick in my mind as I repeated what they said. The blood bargain pulled the words from my memory for me.
“We are from the Obsidian Court, aren’t we Commander?” Solas said enthusiastically after I had finished reciting the prophecy, breaking the silence.
“Enough,” the Commander snapped, his jaw clenched so tightly I wondered if it would break. His volatile shadows plunged into his chest.
“Does that hurt?” I whispered, unable to stop myself.
“Yes, but I am also used to pain.” He stared at the fire, and it reflected in the depths of his endless eyes. I wanted to ask what he meant by that. But by the look on his face, he wouldn’t answer me. So, I asked one of the millions of other questions bouncing in my mind.
“What is a Fated Mate?” I asked, nestling further against the broad chest of my captor.
“The other half of your soul,” he said softly, still gazing into the fire with a guarded look. I blinked at him, the venom still clouding my thoughts.
Solas continued from across the fire. “It’s... alignment. The piece you didn’t know you were missing until it stood before you. They are everything you will ever need, ever want.” Solas paused, and I noticed he absently rubbed his left hand. The movement was slow and almost tender. “When the bond is accepted, the Mark of Anamrynappears.Soul thread, in our tongue. It forms on the left hand and binds you for eternity.”
His voice cracked near the end, and I followed his gaze to his left hand. There, etched into his skin, half-faded by time but unmistakable, was more than a tattoo. It shimmered faintly in the firelight, a swirling script of silver and black lines, not drawn butwoveninto him. Not art. Not ink. Something sacred. Something permanent.
