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FORTY-ONE

KAEL

H e hadn’t slept.

Not because nightmares came. But because they didn’t.

For the first time in years, Kael didn’t jolt awake to blood on his hands or the sound of Elara’s scream in his skull. He didn’t claw at his sheets, didn’t shift in his sleep, didn’t wake drowning in rage.

Instead, he’d watched Selene.

Her hair fanned across his chest, her cheek resting just over his heartbeat, her palm over the Mark that bound them both by choice now, not magic.

And he thought, ‘ So this is peace’. But peace didn’t mean stillness. And the dawn they fought for had come.

The great hall was full once again.

Not bloated with pompous advisors or shadowed priests whispering curses behind false smiles—but filled with them . The new heirs. Nyra. His soldiers. The people. The court.

And Selene stood beside him, radiant in twilight-colored silk, a simple diadem braided into her dark waves—no gemstones. Just the Veilstone Kael had pulled from the ruins after her return.

A crown made of what tried to break her. And failed.

He walked forward in silence until he stood before the throne. Not Ruarc’s. That had burned with the rest.

This was a new seat.

Carved from blackened oak and veinstone, the back crowned with the image of twin wolves. One howling, one watching. Balance.

Kael turned. Faced them all. And didn’t speak from a scroll.

He spoke from truth.

“For years, we’ve ruled through strength,” he said. “Through bloodlines. Through fear.”

The silence was heavy, listening.

“My father led this court with teeth bared and blood drawn. It made us survivors. It made us feared. But it also made us monsters. ”

A murmur of discomfort rippled through the crowd.

Kael didn’t flinch.

“I was meant to follow him. Meant to take the throne with a blade and a bride picked from council bidding. Meant to obey prophecy and blood magic and the ghosts of those who died screaming for peace they were never given.”

He looked to the heirs now—Calder with his arms crossed, Seraphine watching with interest, Nyssa perched like she was born of starlight, and Lucien lounging like a shadow bored into skin.

“I rejected that fate.”

His voice didn’t rise. But it sharpened.

“I chose something different.”

He reached behind him. Held out his hand. And Selene stepped forward.

“I chose her. ” His voice rang now. “Not because of her bloodline. Not because a stone told me to. Because she saw every broken part of me and didn’t flinch.

You all heard her speech yesterday. It’s true.

She speaks for this kingdom, this court.

For me. And if none of you believed her yesterday, then believe her now.

Believe us. She fought beside me. Bled with me. Died for me.”

Selene didn’t look away. Her eyes were steady—storm gray and full of knowing.

“So today,” Kael continued, “I crown her not as consort. Not as queen.”

The crowd leaned in.

“But as my mate. My sovereign. And the first ruler of this Dominion not born of blood—but born of choice. ”

He turned to her. Lifted the crown Nyra had forged from Veilstone and ironwood and set it gently on her brow.

It wasn’t heavy. Because Selene was already carrying more than any crown ever could.

“Long may she rise,” Kael said.

And the court? They knelt. Every last one.

Later, when the hall had emptied and dusk had begun bleeding over the horizon, Kael found her again in the gardens—barefoot, as always, a thin cloak draped over her shoulders, fingers brushing over the night blossoms that only bloomed beneath the moons.

He watched her for a while.

Watched the woman who had rewritten his whole fucking world by daring to believe it could be different.

He stepped behind her. Wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Just so you know, this time, Kael Fenrir, you don’t get to push me away.”

“I won’t,” he whispered.

“Not even for duty.”

“Not even for prophecy.”

“Not even if the Veil rises again.”

He kissed her—slow and full of promise. “No more running,” he said.

She smiled against his mouth. “Good. Because I’m tired of chasing you.”

The moon rose high.

The crown glinted faintly in the distance on its stone perch.

And Kael didn’t dream of blood anymore.

Only of her.