This wasn’t about a political alliance anymore. It wasn’t even about the bond that had formed when we said our vows. This was something deeper and more profound than I’d expected to find when I’d agreed to marry the vampire king.
“I do wish it,” I said. “To stay.”
He pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair. “Good. Because I’m not ready to let you go.”
We lay together as twilight deepened into true night, the room gradually filling with shadows. Neither of us moved to light a torch. The darkness felt intimate, a cocoon around our newfound connection.
His hand continued its gentle exploration, tracing the curve of my hip, the dip of my waist, the sweep of my shoulder. Each touch felt both possessive.
“Tell me something,” I said.
“Anything.”
“What happened after the festival, when you had to leave?”
His hand stilled before resuming its path. “My father’s steward found me at the festival grounds. He told me there had been a magical attack. By the time I returned to the castle, both my parents were gone.”
Pain edged his voice. I pressed closer, offering what comfort I could.
“I had to take the throne immediately. There was no transition period, no time to grieve. The kingdom needed a strong leader, especially with rumors that the attack had been orchestrated by a neighboring realm.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“The first few months are a blur now. Council meetings, funeral arrangements, diplomatic crises. But through it all, I kept thinking of you.” His voice softened. “The joy witch who made me laugh. I sent people to find you, but all they could discover was that you were visiting from a village to the north.”
“I waited for you. Every day for months, I went back to the spot where we’d said goodbye.”
His arms tightened around me. “If I could have?—”
“I know.” I kissed his chest, right over his heart. “I understand now.”
“I never forgot you, Cyrene. Not for a single day.”
The raw honesty in his voice cracked me wide open, letting in light I’d kept shuttered for years.
“I never forgot you either.”
His eyes glinted in the darkness. “Tomorrow we’ll continue your dance lessons.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” I teased, gesturing to our naked bodies.
His laugh came low and warm. “An essential part of diplomatic relations, I assure you.”
I snuggled against him, drowsiness overtaking me. His steady heartbeat lulled me toward sleep, and his arms were a haven I hadn’t known I was seeking.
He rested his chin on the top of my head.
“Sleep well, my queen,” he whispered, his voice a caress in the darkness. “Tomorrow we face them together.”
The word followed me into dreams, wrapping around me like a promise.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
KIERAN
Morning sun streamed through the high windows of the council chamber a few days later, and dust motes danced like stars in the beam of light. I found myself watching them rather than focusing on Lady Aragorn’s droning report about grain allocations. My thoughts kept drifting to Cyrene.
We’d spent all of yesterday practicing the dance, our bodies moving in sync, hands clasping, parting, and finding each other again. Those practice sessions had frequently ended with us tangled in bed, her golden magic spiraling around us as we lost ourselves in each other. This morning had been no different. Dance, desire, completion.
