“I love you,” I rasp against her lips. She’s my guiding star and everything that makes me happy. Our days together. Our flights over the mountain forests and glittering lakes. Our endless lovemaking. Talking through issues and hearing her advice.
Her golden eyes open, holding mine. “I love you, too, Bale.”
My heart swells to fill my entire chest. It barely leaves room for the fear that this could all come crashing down and leave me burned to ash. Fear that once Idallia knows everything, she’ll look at me in absolute shock, betrayal, and turn her back.
Kissing her with fevered passion, I lift her to meet my increasingly savage thrusts. Her breasts rub my chest. Her legs lock around my waist, spurring me on. Her arms hold me close, and her body fits perfectly with mine.
She tips over the edge with a groan, and I follow her so fast and utterly that I shake with the force of the aftershocks.
Rolling her on top of me, I hold her close. “I want this to last a lifetime.” My murmured words stir her hair, and she looks up.
A slow, happy, almost surprised smile spreads across her face. “I do too. Why wouldn’t it?”
I tuck her head back under my chin so she can’t see the abject terror on my face. “Let’s bring the birds out for a picnic dinner by the lake. They can hunt, and we’ll bring food.” We’ll fly together and talk and laugh and just be, which is something I didn’t even know how to do a week ago.
Idallia has brought me her family, and it’s a gift I didn’t know I wanted or needed. Fyrestar will stick to my wing with composed strength and wisdom, ever sensing what Idallia needs even before she does. Rimblaze will swing between moments of maturity and spurts of youthful dauntlessness that still need a firm word and heavy look to rein in. And Embersol will fly circles around us, her sharp little beak piercing the sky like an arrow, and her fluffy yellow head crest leaving a trail of sparks on the wind.
Sudden heat sears my eyes. Embersol has been calling me Dad lately. I can’t help encouraging her.
My heart grows impossibly bigger, my chest tighter. I exhale unsteadily. I haven’t had a family in so long that I forgot what it was like—or what I’d wished it was like. I never had siblings, and frankly, I didn’t like my parents much. Now I have Idallia and her phoenixes, and I want to spend every waking hour with them and keep them all tucked safely under my wings.
But that feels frighteningly impossible. There’s no peace until Rannigan Bloodthief is off my doorstep. And there’s no peace when I know the end of my happiness could very well be my own damn fault.
Inside the meeting room, the arguing is incessant and always on the edge of violence. My head pounds, and all I want is to leave this big round cavern with its big round table and its five totally different people who will never get along. I want to walk away and go back to Idallia.
The irony is, she should be here.
Even if I tell her the truth the very next time I see her, it’ll be too late for this year’s Council. Too late for her to help me and Torridaig as I always intended her to. Too late for her to decide if she even wants to.
The chasm in the pit of my stomach widens. It’s going to swallow me whole soon.
The Were King steeples his fingers, listening to the Vampire King complain. This week, we’ve already negotiated updated prices for the metals, fabrics, and wood products coming out of Torridaig, increased efforts on the Were King’s part to control the kidnapping fanatics in his kingdom, harsher penalties on any fae caught using their glamour magic on people instead of paying for what they need, and sharing of the southern lake waters near Glarraden via new aqueducts. The increasingly dry agricultural plains of northern Ruthinock will receive irrigation and, in return, Torridaig will receive first pick of the human sorcerers willing to leave home. It’s a better deal for Ruthinock. They’ll still have water, even as magic fades.
What’s left is the fucking Vampire King and his completely illegal blood raids. Rannigan tries to paint everything as my fault, inventing utter bullshit left and right in a way he’s never dared before. No one feels even a shiver of Cealastra’s light, which just spurs him on. After hours of this, the Human Queen barely listens to his tirades anymore. The Were King already knows his vote—it’s always the same because he’s more scared of Rannigan than he is of me. The little Fae Queen tries to make herself as small as possible in her great, big chair. The fierce dispute barely concerns her. She’s got my whole kingdom between her and Rannigan.
“My people are in his dungeon.” Rannigan jabs a sharp-nailed, permanently bloodstained finger at me. “I demand justice.”
“And what would your justice look like?” I ask, seething.
“Blood debt,” he immediately answers.
I laugh in his face. I’m not giving him people to eat. Not mine or anyone else’s. “I do have vampires in my dungeon. Because his raiders”—I jab a finger back at him—“were stealing my people straight from my towns.”
“And mine,” the Human Queen launches from across the table in a hard voice. Her eyes narrow. Isabella Varlo is my kind of ally. Quiet and still until she can punch someone in the throat with only a few words. “I demand justice for all the humans you’ve dragged into your blood markets and sold to your vampire horde.”
Rannigan stands, slamming both hands on the table. The Fae Queen squeaks and makes herself even smaller. The Were King leans back. Isabella holds her ground. “My justice is a life for a life,” Rannigan grinds out, ignoring us both like we never even spoke. “Between you, you’ve killed a hundred vampires in the last weeks. I want a hundred of yours now. And I want dragon shifters, not weakling humans.” Rannigan swings a blistering look at Isabella.
She stares back at him with a lifetime of hatred in her eyes.
“So, you admit to sending at least a hundred raiders into our sovereign territories in the last weeks?” I say smoothly.
His shoulders stiffen. “You crossed the border and took prisoners. I have witnesses.”
“Where are your witnesses?” I ask with lethal impatience. “Oh wait, I have mine.”
I stride to the door and open it. I gave orders to bring up the Bloodwold prisoners earlier. They’re lined up against the wall outside, and I pull the first one from the guards holding his chains and shut the door.
Shoving him in front of me to show him to the Council, I demand, “Where did I capture you?”
