What brought his end?
The bargain. The wedding. Her.
Every step that had led her here pressed on her like a weight: her mother’s journal, the spindle, the song in the mirror, her father’s weary eyes when he promised her away. All the threads had bound her path to Rune’s shadow.
Her jaw trembled. Was she nothing more than the rope that had dragged her parents into the dark with her?
But Rune’s vow still carried in the air between them, humming faintly, undeniable. He had sworn he did not bargain with her mother. That much was truth. And yet… the rest was a blur of half-answers, omissions that tasted like smoke on her tongue.
“Rune, am I your prisoner?”
He chuckled. “You are my bride.”
She exhaled sharply. “A bride you keep confined in a dark cave. I need sunlight. I need air. Humans don’t live in the dark.”
“You forget,” Rune said, his voice low and smooth, “you wouldn’t be here if you had not sung my song.”
The words scraped something raw in her chest. She had sung to survive. To save Argyle. To claw hope out of the dark when no one else had listened. It had cost her soul, but she had never consented to spending the rest of her life with him.
Alora eyes narrowed and she tugged her chin free from his grasp. “And you wouldn’t keep me here if the light hadn’t already refused you.”
For a moment, he simply stared at her, the air thick with tension. Then, to her surprise, his lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
“Careful, Alora,” he murmured, leaning in enough that his shadows brushed her skin. “You might find my temper is not the only thing that burns.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I? It’s too dark here to see anything of real merit.”
Their gazes met and held as if they both knew what she was truly referring to was him.
He hid behind a wall of mockery and indifference, feigning to care for nothing at all. Or perhaps he truly was so pompous and cared for nothing his own evil and voracity.
“I called to you out of desperation,” she continued. “I needed to save my kingdom. Then I needed to save myself. Butmarriage… marriage is not freedom. Not when you have me buried in the heart of your mountain.”
Rune’s mouth thinned. “You will have as much freedom as you wish. Here with me.”
Alora groaned. “Why do you want a mortal bride? You could have any female in your court. There were plenty of beauties there. Clearly ones who hunger for you the way your court hungers to eat me alive!”
Rune smiled, unbothered. The shadows poured more wine into his goblet while he lounged lazily like a king in command of every inch of his domain.
Frustrated, Alora pressed on. “Youdorealize I will grow old, don’t you? All mortals die one day, I likely sooner than you would expect.”
That wiped the smile from his face.
“And I am not obedient, Rune. I am stubborn, loud, and difficult. I was raised as a spoiled princess who is used to extravagance, who throws fits when denied.”
He smirked faintly, shadows curling through her hair, like ribbons. “As queen of my court, you have the right to demand anything you desire. Whatever you wish will be yours. As you will always bemine.”
Alora blinked, stilling beneath the intensity of his gaze.
“Do you think me so easily swayed by your feeble argument?” His voice dipped low. “I know everything there is to know about you. I know you’re half-fae, and that your father cast you into exile in the Midlands, where even they would not accept you. You grew up in the woods in a dilapidated cottage,alone. I know how deeply you long to be chosen, bending to every order, hoping one day to be seen and recognized as significant to someone.”
Her chest tightened painfully, her eyes burning with anger and humiliation to have all of her truths laid bare.
“You are significant, Alora.” Rune took her chin, making her meet his gaze. “To me. I will give you the freedom to seek, to command, to demand without being punished for it.”
She searched his gaze, finding it genuine for once.
“There is nothing I will deny you,” Rune continued, “except the right to leave me.”
