The words hang heavy in the air. Like smoke. Like ash.
No one speaks.
Not even Ronyn.
The fire crackles. Somewhere across the cavern, a bowl scrapes against stone. But in our circle, there is only stillness.
And now we know what’s written in the Stars.
And what we may have to break.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
KAEL
Tvira takesus to the bathing pools—humid air from the warm, bubbling pools creates a chorus of drips from the cavern’s ceiling that sounds melodic, relaxing. The pools are empty, still and serene.
Elyssara whimpers at the sight of them, and I don’t blame her. We’ve been on the road for several days, and the thought of submerging myself in warm crystalline waters is enough to make me shuck off my clothes without thought for who’s around.
“A change of clothes,” Tvira says sharply, gesturing to a neat pile of folded clothes sitting on a carved ridge in the cavern wall. “Robes to dry off,” she says in her typical clipped tone, pointing to linen robes the color of wheat that she’s flung on the stone floor. “Javi will take you to your resting place later,” Tvira spins on her heel with efficiency, leaving the hot pools with no further explanation.
I guess we’ll meet whoever Javi is later.
My leather vest is thrown to the floor already, so I pull off my tunic. Elyssara’s eyes land on my chest, and her breath hitches as if she’s mesmerized.
She closes the distance between us and runs her hand along theconstellations marking my chest. They illuminate under her touch, recognizing her as home.
“El,” I whisper, “I know I didn’t tell you about the sighing winds, but?—-”
“I know why,” she says fervently, cutting me off. “You chose me—over the Stars, over fate, over your people,” her eyes are glassy, and her throat bobs with emotion.
“And I would choose you again, every single time. I fucking refuse to be bound by what the Stars decide to write. We can write new stories for ourselves, Duskae,” I tilt up her chin and brush a kiss to her lips—she tastes like starlight incarnate. She kisses me back with hunger, opening her mouth for me in a tangle of tongues, and every brush of her fingers feels like a constellation waking beneath my skin.
She pulls back, looking up at me with wild hair and those untamed eyes, “Are you ever going to tell me what that even means?” A smile dances on her lips, but sensuous hunger laces her gaze. “Duskae, I mean. I used to think it was an insult,” she admits.
I exhale, brushing a wild strand from her face and cupping her cheek. “In old Zerynthian lore, Duskae is the Goddess of the Unfated. A beacon of free will. Of choice,” I say tenderly, pulling her in closer.
“That sounds unlike any of the other gods and goddesses,” she says softly, eyes twinkling with curiosity.
“It is. They hated her for it. They erased her from the myths because she threatened their hold on fate. She was the one thing they couldn’t predict. Couldn’t control. Never saw coming. So they destroyed her,” I hold her gaze, tightening my hold on her.
Her breathing is ragged, shaky, but her gaze is reverent. “She is the Goddess of Choice, Elyssara. Old lore says she left a shard of herself in the world, a spark that would one day awaken when the world was again on the edge of collapse,” my voice is low, intent. “You’re the one they never saw coming—the one who commands The Sky. You’re the spark, El.”
Her breathing deepens, but her eyes never leave mine. Her gaze bores into me—wide, wild, shining—and tears begin to well. “Thenwe should choose each other,” she pants. “In defiance of it all. For ourselves,” the words come out like a prayer. A promise. “Remove your clothes,” she whispers, urgent.
We undress in silence, the only noise the steady melody of the dripping ceilings.
She’s bare and breathtaking—soft in all the places I crave. Every inch of her calls to something primal in me—want, yes, but reverence too. Like touching her wrong might shatter something holy.
Her skin glimmers, the pool's reflection casting rippling shapes across her skin. The Eye of Lireal illuminates under my gaze, and I take my eyes lower to her soft breasts, rising and falling with her breath.
I drag my gaze down the curve of her hips, drinking her in like a man starving—until I land at the apex of her thighs.
She slips her hand between her thighs, drawing a finger through her center. She stalks towards me with a primal hunger that threatens to buckle my knees. She wipes the finger across my chest, the glistening evidence of her arousal painted across my Sky marking. “I’m so wet for you, Kael,” she whispers, and grabs my hand.
She tugs my hand, pulling me toward the steps into the hot pools. She leads the way, her ass and hips swaying like a fucking goddess before my eyes. My cock is already hard, and it pulses at the sight of her.
She walks down a few steps of the hot pools before turning back to me, “Sit down, my prince,” she purrs seductively.
