My quarters have never felt soempty.
I lay Tamsin on the bed—my bed, which has never held another person in all the centuries I’ve slept here—and study her in the morning light. She’s pale. Too pale. The blood has been cleaned from her face, but the shadows beneath her eyes speak to how close she came to death.
The Crown rests dormant against her chest, that crystallized sphere that nearly killed her. I want to rip it away, throw it into the deepest vault, never see it again. But it’s part of her now. Part of her inheritance, her responsibility, her power.
I hate it. And I’m proud of her for wielding it.
She stirs as I pull the blankets over her. Her eyes flutter open—amber meeting gold, fire meeting ice—and her lips curve into a smile that makes my chest ache.
“We made it home.”
“We did.” I sit on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in mine. Her skin is warm against my cold fingers, and I marvel at how natural the contact feels. How essential. “How do you feel?”
“Like I fought a war and won.” She squeezes my hand weakly. “Tired. But good. Really good.”
“You should rest.”
“I should.” But she doesn’t close her eyes. Just looks at me with an expression I’m learning to read—love, yes, but also something else. Decision. Certainty. “Later. After.”
“After what?”
Her free hand rises to cup my cheek. Warm fingers tracing the line of my jaw, the shape of my mouth, mapping features she’s memorized. “You know what.”
I do know. Have known since she told me she loved me in that throne room. Have been waiting, planning, wanting with an intensity that should terrify me but doesn’t.
“Tonight.” I turn my head to press a kiss against her palm. “Rest now. Recover. Tonight, when you’re stronger?—”
“Tonight.” She smiles, and her eyes finally close. “I’ll hold you to that.”
I watch her sleep. Watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way the morning light catches the copper highlights in her dark hair. Watch this woman who crashed into my life and refused to leave, who shattered every wall I built and made me grateful for the destruction.
Six centuries of control. Decades of ice. And she melted through all of it without even trying.
Tonight, I’ll claim her. Make her mine in every way that matters. And she’ll claim me in return—not just as her dragon, but as her mate, her partner, her equal.
It feels like coming home.
FORTY
AUREN
The day passes in a blur of activity.
War councils to assess our victory. Reports from scouts confirming the Shadow Clan’s retreat. Celebrations among the Brotherhood that I excuse myself from as quickly as politeness allows. Drayke catches my eye as I leave the great hall, and I see understanding in his expression. He knows what tonight means. They all do.
Rurik slaps me on the shoulder as I pass. “About damn time, brother.”
I don’t dignify that with a response. But I don’t freeze him for touching me, either. Progress.
Tamsin spends the afternoon with the Fire-Bringer women—Selene, Aisling, and Nasyra gathering around her in the quarters they’ve claimed as their own. I don’t know what they discuss. Don’t need to. When Tamsin emerges in the early evening, she’s smiling in a way that speaks of sisterhood, of belonging, of finally having a place.
Four Fire-Bringers now. Four claimed mates for four brothers. The symmetry would please me if I had room for anything besides anticipation.
Night falls. The fortress settles into quiet. And I find Tamsin on the ramparts, exactly where I knew she would be.
She stands at the edge of the walkway, her face tilted toward the stars. Stone benches worn smooth by centuries of use line the path behind her, but she’s chosen to stand, her hands resting on the ancient parapet. The view is worth the climb—the mountains stretching endlessly before us, the sky blazing with more stars than I’ve ever noticed.
The Crown rests dormant against her chest, its crystallized form catching starlight. She looks tired. At peace. Complete in a way she hasn’t been since she collapsed at our gates.
