While Pherin returned to my shoulder, Trew scanned the hall, his gaze seeking mine and remaining. Like a cord drawing taut between us, the sadness in his eyes sucked all the air from my lungs.
He walked up onto the dais and sat, waving at his trencher, staring at it as it magically filled with food. He picked at his meal, not appearing to notice Kira speaking to him. He only seemed to see me.
I didn’t touch my plate. Didn’t chat with my friends. I got up and strode between the tables. Benches scraped behind me, heads turning, voices tittering, rising.
The dais loomed ahead, Trew sitting tall despite the weight in his eyes. Kira kept chattering, her death adder coiled around her arm, its red scales glinting like fresh blood.
Her gaze narrowed as I climbed the steps, and she started to rise. “You’re not?—”
Trew lifted his hand, cutting her off.
I ignored her and stopped beside him. “Are you finished eating?”
He glanced down at his trencher and gave a half-shrug. “I cannot imagine eating much right now.”
“Then come with me.” I took his cold hand in mine, linking our fingers.
He clung, tightening his grip to the point of pain.
My magic stirred in response to his touch, not wild or chaotic like it usually was, but warm and steady, as if it recognized its home. The air around us shimmered, charged with more than attraction.
With destiny.
Choice. Loyalty freely given instead of demanded by blood or crown. For the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to pick your family.
Conversation died in the hall.
Truce between our courts?Kerralyn had said, but this felt like so much more.
Everyone watched the new warrior who’d bonded with a minxpip, of all things, take the hand of the rebel king like she was claiming her throne.
Let them stare. Let them whisper. Let Kira’s jealousy burn bright enough to light the entire castle.
This was my choice. My king. My future.
I led him off the dais and through the room, murmurs swelling around us. Gavelle swooped ahead of us with Pherin fluttering by his side. Kira’s gaze gouged between my shoulder blades, but I didn’t look back.
I caught Lexie’s eye as we passed. Her smile showed pure satisfaction. Derren nodded once. Kerralyn clutched her journal, probably already composing the entry she’d write about this moment.
My chosen family. Watching their future queen claim her king.
The hall’s noise faded with each corridor we took, replaced by the muted hum of the torches. When Trew’s chambers came into view, its double doors carved with the curling shapes of cinderhawks, he dismissed the guard and pushed the doors open without a word.
Inside, the air hung still and warm. No clatter of dishes, no voices. Just the faint hiss of the fire in the hearth and the whisper of Gavelle and Pherin swooping in and landing on a perch standing on the opposite side of the open sitting area.
As the door banged closed, I turned to face him.
Silence wrapped around us, shutting out the world and its expectations. Here, there were no crowns or courts or ancient feuds. Just him and me and the truth we could no longer deny.
He looked… Tired wasn’t the right word. This was something deeper, as if someone had carved out pieces of him and tossed them aside.
I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my cheek against his chest. Holding him.
For a second, he didn’t move. Then his breath left him in a rush, and his arms came around me hard, as if I was the only thing holding him upright.
I felt the full weight of what he carried. Every decision, every loss, every impossible choice that came with the crown. Then I feltthe exact moment he let himself be vulnerable, let himself be just a man who needed comfort.
This was trust in its purest form.
