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1 AELIA

The winter sun shone off Tharan’s wine-red hair, his eyes darted beneath closed lids. I studied the contours of his angular face, scar, and lush lips, letting my eyes trail down his neck to his bare chest, committing the sight to memory. How many mornings like this would we have? We returned from Ryft’s Edge weeks ago, hanging by a thread. Gideon and Erissa were in the wind, and my sister was safe. I should be happy. I had the love of a good man, my family and friends were safe, and I had a home once more. My heart was full, and yet, could I trust this happiness?

The smell of coffee and baking bread wafted up from the kitchens below. Despite Tharan being crowned the Alder King, he still preferred his chambers to the king’s. I pulled the blanket tight around myself and snuggled close to him, breathing in the scent of pine lingering on his skin—a muscled arm wrapped around my waist.

“You’re up early,” he said sleepily.

“I haven’t slept since I was fifteen. No amount of valerian root is going to change that.”

He ran a hand down my back, making my skin tingle.

Inching closer, I kissed his neck, pulling a quiet moan from his lips.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, King Killer.”

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

“I haven’t killed any kings… yet.”

He pushed himself on top of me, and I sucked in a breath. Spreading my legs, I let him fill the space between us.

“I won’t let this go too far,” he murmured, every word shivering hot in the shell of my ear. “I promised I’d show you I wasn’t the playboy, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun.”

I let out a laugh.

“Well, it’s not like we’re virgins.”

I ran a hand down his bare chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his skin. I hadn’t seen Tharan’s golden tattoo since the night at the inn. Chalking it up to my medicated delusion, I didn’t bring it up.

“I know, but I want it to be special.”

I cupped his face in my hand.

“Every day is special with you.”

For a moment, Tharan just stared at me, lips parted, cheeks glowing. His eyes did not leave mine.

I studied the flecks of gold in his one green eye.

“What?” I asked.

Pushing a piece of hair behind my ear, he dipped his head and ran his tongue up my neck before nibbling my lobe playfully. “Sometimes you just like to stare at a piece of art.”

“Tharan…” I said, trying to hide my blush.

“I won’t apologize for thinking you’re beautiful.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on my waiting lips.

Like two pieces of a puzzle, Tharan and I fit together. Our mouths were made for the other’s. Soft and supple, he anticipated my needs before I did, slipping his tongue between my lips. A heat grew between us, a yearning begging to be released.

I sucked in a breath at the weight of his growing erection at the juncture of my thighs.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” his sultry voice purred in my ear, making me wet.

His hand roamed to the fasteners of my nightgown. Gently undoing the buttons, he released my breasts. The cool morning air pricked my nipples. Since coming to the Alder Palace, I’d regained my womanly figure.

Tharan leaned down, taking one of my nipples into his mouth.

I let out a groan of pleasure as his tongue teased me.

His hand wandered over my stomach.

I arched my back at his touch.

Slipping his fingers through the loops in my panties, he yanked them off in one fluid motion before turning me onto my stomach.

I lifted my ass into the air. The anticipation of what was to come made me wet with need.

Tharan’s fingers traced their way up my legs to where my needy cunt waited for him.

A knock at the door interrupted us.

Tharan growled, “We’re busy.”

“Your Majesty, I wouldn’t normally interrupt, but…”

He sighed, rolling off the bed and wrapping a fur-lined robe around his chiseled body. Running a hand through his hair, he did his best to collect himself.

I pulled the blanket over my exposed body. Being born royal myself, I was accustomed to attendants seeing me in various states of undress, but it didn’t mean I wanted them to see me in such a compromising position.

“Yes?” Tharan said, opening the door.

“The Phantom sent word this morning.” The satyr slipped a piece of parchment through the crack before shutting the door tightly.

Tharan unfolded the beige note, knitting his brows in concern.

“What is it?” I asked, slipping on a robe of my own, reveling in the feeling of the soft fur against my naked skin.

Tharan slumped into the carved chair at his desk. “Gideon and Erissa have seemingly disappeared.”

“Maybe they fled across the sea?” I cinched the belt around my waist before sliding into Tharan’s lap.

“They want the Trinity Wells. Erissa is power-hungry. Gideon is her mouthpiece. They wouldn’t leave the continent. They’ll look for other original blood.”

“We have to warn the others… Are there others?”

“I have been thinking I need to pay my grandfather a visit…” He rubbed his chin nervously. “And you should probably visit your mother.”

My heart wrenched in my chest. “I know you’re right, but I’m not sure I’m ready to face her. It has been so long.”

Snuggling his head into my breasts, he said, “You’re stronger than you ever were.”

“Because I have you.” I kissed his head, taking in his distinct scent of pine and clove.

He squeezed me tight. “And you always will.”

A breeze blew in through the open window, pebbling my skin with goosebumps. Spring would not come for ages. Snow still covered the burnt remains where the fire tore through the forest. Despite the cold, I loved winter—loved the snow, the solace, the feel of the frigid air burning in my lungs when outdoors. Summer meant sweat and bugs, but winter—things healed in winter. Maybe I would heal, too.

“Let’s have breakfast and then discuss our plan of action with others.”

“Fine,” he huffed. “But first, let’s finish what we started.”

He lifted me off his lap and got to his feet, then set me back in the chair. Kneeling, he slid down between my legs, his lips gently caressing the inside of my thighs.

A fire roared through my veins. I lay back, gripping the chair’s arm with one hand and softly playing with my nipple with the other.

“Are you ready, my darling?” he purred. Just the sound of his voice made me slick with need.

I bit my lip, trying to keep my lust at bay.

A coy smile brightened his face as he stared up at me.

“Are you sure?” He thumbed my clit, bringing a moan to the back of my throat.

“Yes,” I whimpered.

“Good.” Tharan dug his teeth hard into my clit, stealing the breath from my chest. A groan grew deep in my core, begging to be released.

He slid his fingers inside me, first one, then two, thrusting back and forth while his mouth on my little bead sent shock waves through my body.

I cried out with pleasure, fingers fisting his silken hair.

Wrapping his arm around my bottom, he pulled me in closer. My nipples pricked, and wetness flooded the chair. I couldn’t get away. I was his captive, and my body yearned for more.

Bucking my hips, I moved with the rhythm of his fingers.

Tharan pulled away, giving me a devilish smile. “You’re so close. Are you going to come for me?”

I nodded, my breath heavy with the whimper of desire. My orgasm clawed at my senses. I stared down at Tharan, my eyes catching on my perked nipples. I hadn’t felt this good in a long time. No guilt accompanied this pleasure. It was all mine and all his. I couldn’t help but let out a moan, watching his fingers slip in and out of me. My wetness glistened on his stubbled chin, marking him as mine.

The sound of my slickness grew louder, and I groaned with pleasure as his tongue replaced his fingers, driving deep into my core. I was a goddess, and he was my acolyte, worshiping me with every stroke of his tongue. My body quaked harder and harder. My toes curled, and my hand spasmed. An orgasm built inside of me, and I cried out, “Oh, Trinity!”

Tharan paused, kissing my thighs. “Not yet, my darling. You can’t come yet.”

“Tease,” I gasped through ragged breaths.

Tharan rose to his feet. His erection protruded through his robe, throbbing with need.

“I want us to come together. I want to see you as you orgasm.” Spitting on his hand, he stroked his girthy cock. “Touch yourself like you want me to touch you.”

I gently rubbed my aching clit—soft at first, then harder and harder until the need became unbearable.

Tharan stroked himself feverishly. His eyes burned with passion.

I tried to focus on him, but my climax demanded to be released, ripping through me like lightning. I cried out loud and hot.

“Yes. Oh, Trinity, yes, Aelia.” Tharan’s orgasm shook the room. Magic filled the air, and the taste of metal fizzled on my tongue. He was the master of this land, and the land responded to his emotions. Teacups shattered on the floor as he spilled his seed onto my stomach, hot and sticky.

I stared at the ceiling, trying to collect myself. “Trinity. You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I thought you wanted to take it slow,” he said, gasping for air.

“You’re making it hard for me to do that, Tharan.” I ran my hand through my hair, thankful for the cool breeze.

Tharan chuckled as he leaned forward, touching our foreheads together, skin flushed with heat.

“I love the way you say my name,” he purred, pulling me for another kiss. “And I’ll love it even more the day I hear you scream it.”

I bathed in eucalyptus and spearmint, washing the scent of the morning’s activities away with their fragrant leaves. Since showing Tharan my scars, I had not replaced the earring, preferring to wear them as a badge of honor rather than hide behind a glamour.

Pulse still racing, I sunk low in the tub. Tharan was everything I dreamed of and more, but still, my heart ached a little thinking of how we met. I could never tell him about the night I dipped into his mind and planted the seed, leading us here. Truth be told, part of me wondered if he only loved me because I fiddled around in his mind. Then again, he was the Alder King; he knew of my powers and hadn’t questioned my affection.

The sting of losing Caiden still bit at my heart. Seeing him in Ryft’s Edge and then again in the palace when we returned ripped my healing wounds anew. I thought I’d have more time to forget him, and frankly, I hoped never to see him again—another test from the Trinity.

The water chilled, and my stomach grumbled with hunger, reminding me I now had duties beyond lounging about all day. Being the Hand of the King meant an onslaught of daily meetings on everything from military restocking to rebuilding what the fire took to foreign alliances.

Pulling myself from the water, my skin glistened in the bright morning light reflecting off the fresh snow. Despite recently using my life force to call upon the Morrigan’s army, I felt normal, invigorated even. I braided my hair into loose pleats, donned a simple wool gown, and headed to the morning room, where Tharan and his advisors took their breakfast.

Pale light streamed in through stained-glass windows, filling the room with colorful designs. Vines crept up the wood walls, reminding us we were in a living tree. A small fire burned in the hearth, heating the room. Tharan sat at the head of a long table; hair pulled back with a leather tie. He thumbed through the daily reports. A cup of coffee steamed beside him. He smiled at me, and my heart skipped a beat. “Good morning, Aelia,” he said as if we hadn’t spent the morning wrapped around one another.

“Good morning, your Highness.” I took a seat to his right. The smell of fresh coffee and crispy bacon filled the room.

Across from me, Sumac, Tharan’s best friend and leader of the Wild Hunt sat, feasting on porridge and looking through her own morning reports. She wore a high-necked sweater the color of the forest after a rain, complementing her verdant eyes. Next to her sat Hopper, a green-skinned sylph with high cheekbones and gaunt features. His shoulder-length hair was tied back behind his ears. Hopper, Sumac, and Tharan grew up together, and when Tharan became king, they became heads of their respective units—Hopper, the diplomat, and Sumac, the head of the Wild Hunt.

Around the table sat the Master of Coin, Master of Forestry, and Master of Culture. I had no idea where the other advisors were, but it was nice to be in a small group. Savoring the momentary respite from sharing Tharan with his entire kingdom, I ran the tip of my slipper up his leg.

Beneath the table, Tharan’s hand found my knee, and with a little squeeze, he let me know he was thinking of me.

“Where is everyone this morning?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

A satyr set a pile of parchment in front of me. I huffed, reaching around it to fill my plate with bacon and eggs. Once satiated, I glanced at the stack while munching on a piece of bacon. “It looks like half of your advisors are busy running your kingdom.”

“I guess that’s a good thing,” Tharan said, turning to Wren, the Master of Forestry. “How is the forest healing?”

The sylph woman who smelled of lilac and elderberry and whose hair matched, lifted her head from her work, purple eyes sparkling in the soft light. Her pale skin reminded me of Lucius’s. “Healing takes a long time, my King, but it is mending at a tremendous rate. Thanks to the renewed magic that comes with crowning a new Alder King.”

“Very good.” He turned to the Master of Coin. An elderly sylph with a long black beard and a shaved head. “And how about our finances?”

The man cleared his throat, and the teacup in his hand shook uncontrollably, an unfortunate side effect of extended life. Even Illya’s gift could not stop the body from fraying. “We have enough coin to fund a war, should we need to.”

“Let’s hope we do not, but try to fill our coffers as much as possible. With the way things are going, we never know when we might need it.” The elder nodded, and Tharan leaned back in his chair, muscles pushing through the thin linen of his shirt, and I wished the room was empty so I could throw my legs over him and finish what we’d started this morning. My pussy yearned to feel the girth of his cock inside me. Even now, my muscles clenched as I imagined him thrusting deeper and deeper.

“Any word from my sister, Hopper?” Tharan asked.

Hopper’s mouth flattened into a straight line.

“No. We have not heard from her. I suspect she went to live with her mother’s people in the ghost isles.”

“I will send word to the Ghost Lord.”

Seeing Tharan rule over his kingdom, with his power shown through his relaxed shoulders radiating casual confidence, filled me with want. My thoughts drifted to the vision of him between my legs, and my mouth went dry with desire.

“There’s something else.” Hopper patted his mouth with a napkin. “The Court of Sorrows needs a new ruler. Nysemia had no heir, and with most of her court dead, it is up to you to choose who will rule.”

Tharan rubbed his jaw in thought, and I couldn’t help but think of earlier when he smiled at me from between my legs, face covered in my wetness.

“Who do you suggest? I would give it to my sister if I can find her.”

Hopper nodded.

“That would be wise, but she will need a husband.”

A sigh escaped Tharan’s lips.

“I suppose I’ll have to make that match as well.”

“Indeed, my King.”

“Alright. Let’s find my sister, and then we’ll find her a worthy suitor.”

“Very good, my Lord. I will work on finding her right away. In the meantime, I suggest sending one of your diplomats to run the Court of Sorrows. Perhaps my second, Mythra?”

“Very well,” Tharan sighed.

Hopper nodded before grabbing a doughnut from the assortment of sweet treats adorning the table.

Tharan turned to me, a gleam in his eyes. “And what about my Hand? Do you have anything to report?”

His fingers mindlessly flipped through the papers in front of him, and I couldn’t help but imagine the way they slid in and out of me earlier in the morning, glistening with my arousal. A quake ran through my core, and I crossed my legs to keep from feeling anything else.

“Aelia?” Tharan asked.

I snapped out of my fantasy, sitting up straight in my chair. “Um, yes.”

Tharan gave me a devilish wink.

I shuffled through the papers in front of me, hiding my flaming blush. I couldn’t read a word on them—too busy shoving the image of Tharan’s head between my legs out of my mind—but they bought me time to gather my thoughts.

“It seems there’s been some cases of root rot in the south. They’re requesting a healer.”

“Send one. Send two. What else?”

I shuffled through the correspondence. My heart leapt into my throat at the sight of an indigo-hued letter adorned with the silver seal of the Court of Storms: Lightning striking a tree.

“You have a letter from the Court of Storms.” I slid my fingernail under the seal, cracking it in two. Scanning the contents, I let out a sigh of relief. “It’s a letter of thanks for your support.”

Hopper swallowed his mouthful of food.

“Ha! Looks as though we’ve got ourselves an ally.”

Tharan’s hand found mine underneath the table. The feeling of his soft skin on mine sent shock waves through my veins.

“It is all thanks to Aelia.”

“Yes.” Hopper excused himself as did the Masters of Coin and Culture.

“Our ranks are not what they need to be to handle a full-scale war. I’ll need your help to make more Hunters,” Sumac said.

I knitted my brow, my chest tightening.

“What does that entail?”

Tharan squeezed my hand.

“It is a ceremony. I will have to pull them from a sacred tree deep in the forest. It has not been done for an age.”

My eyes flitted between Sumac and Tharan.

“But isn’t Sumac part of the Hunt?”

“She is. Sumac is one of the very few Hunters who were born naturally. It’s rare, but it does happen. Sylph mature around the age of fifty. That’s when her abilities became visible. She had a natural talent for battle that only a member of the Hunt could possess.”

Sumac’s cheeks flushed.

“It is an honor to serve alongside such fearsome warriors.”

Tharan sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Have the priestesses prepare for the ceremony and make sure Elrida is able to travel.”

Sumac nodded, pushing herself away from the table.

The room quieted.

Tharan leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “Finally. I’ve been thinking about you since we parted ways this morning.”

I pushed a stray hair behind my ear. “I thought we were going to be professional while in public.”

Hooking his hand under my chair, he pulled me close. The sound of wood scraping against wood screeched through the room.

“It’s just us now,” he said, kissing my neck, sending my pulse racing.