Page 52

By the time wingbeats overpowered the sound of several bickering arguments, Maia had managed to talk herself into a meltdown. Her hands shook. Her whole body ached. But it was nerves that overruled even her pain when a drake almost as big as her new friend—Velius, who would absolutely not accept a nickname or shortened version of his name, only ever Velius—swooped through the air and circled towards the ground.

Maia struggled to make out the figures on Velius’s mate’s back, but she counted them quickly. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—

“Az!” she screamed, already running towards the drake making a careful landing. “Jaro!” There were two figures that, even distant, were as familiar to Maia as her own mates. It wasn’t only Isak who’d flown into the clearing. Zamanya and Evrille were with them too. All her pain, every injury, every weakness and fear, swept away as Maia ran.

The figures disembarked by awkwardly sliding down the drake’s back. Aphra—Velius’s mate—let out what sounded like a war cry, but judging by the way Maia’s new friend fluttered his ivory wings, it was akin to a love letter. The fluttering matched both the ripple in her stomach and her chest. Velius told her everything Isak had done since they left him at the saints' circle. He told her that he’d crossed kingdoms to find a way to save them, that he’d fought thieves and murderers during his travels, that he’d crossed the Silver Sea into Sainsa, all in search of a way to end the dark saints and free Maia and her mates.

She chewed her lip as she ran the rest of the way, Azrail managing to race ahead of her despite his many injuries. He was still bleeding, but Ark promised he’d heal him the moment he was strong enough. Jaro was right alongside her, too, panting and running lopsidedly, harbouring an injury she hadn’t felt through the bond.

Zamanya was the first to slam her boots into the grass and come running towards them. She dropped to her knees, armour creaking, and threw her arms around Jaro. Evrille propelled herself across the clearing and slammed into her brother so hard they both groaned, and panic made Maia pause, but then Isak was sliding down Aphra’s side and landing—er, falling to the ground.

He slumped into the grass with a cross between a whine and a growl, his walking stick rolling through the grass to rest at Maia’s feet when she paused, her heart slamming hard against her chest. He had two swords—one strapped to his back, one gripped in a white-knuckled hand.

“Very graceful,” she teased, unable to resist.

He just groaned again and flopped onto his back. “Don’t let alone land on top of me.”

Maia scooped up his stick and used the wooden end to prod his forehead, the one place she was certain wasn’t injured. “This is new.”

He peered up at her, going cross-eyed as he looked at the stick. “Stole it from a dead librarian. A lying bastard, it turns out.”

Maia shifted the stick into her other hand and held one out to him. “Come on, you can’t stay in the grass forever.”

Isak gripped her hand and pushed off the ground, getting unsteadily to his feet. “You’re being nice to me.”

“I would say don’t get used to it, but did you just spend weeks looking for a way to save us?”

“I might have done,” he agreed, accepting his stick and leaning heavily on it. “Don’t think too highly of me, I royally fucked it up in the end. Apparently, this thing was supposed to stay broken forever.” He held up the sword.

“I know,” she murmured. “A drake told me. That one.” She pointed across the clearing where Velius and his mate were brushing up against each other like affectionate housecats. “He’s the only reason we got out.”

“Of where?”

“Long story,” she sighed. “How sturdy are you on that leg?”

“Depends.” Humour rippled through his eyes. “Do you mean the good one or the fucked one?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” He gave her a suspicious look. “Why?”

“I’m hugging you now.”

Shock slackened his face, making him look much younger in the moment before Maia threw her arms around him. “I know what it’s like to do everything right and still have everything go to shit. You tried to save us. Velius told me you’ve been trying to get us freedom all this time, since the moment we were shoved through the broken stone.”

He was going to be flippant; she could sense it. But then he sighed and deflated, one arm coming around her, holding the sword away from her body. “I couldn’t let them torture my family. But I was too late, wasn’t I?” He drew back to look at her, to look at Jaro where he, Zamanya, Ev, and Az had made a cuddle pile in the grass, everyone else milling around them. “I can feel the darkness in the air. Who did they get to?”

Maia swallowed and dropped her head, letting it rest on Isak’s shoulder. Her mate, who was kind of a dick but who’d risked his life to save her, who hadn’t stopped fighting for their freedom this whole time. “Az and Vawn for sure. I’m not sure about the others, but I can feel it—the poison oozing in their soul.”

Isak sighed heavily. “I can help them. I can’t cure them, I don’t think that’s even possible, but…I can help.”

“Who the fuck is that guy?” Vawn muttered, not nearly quietly enough to stop his voice carrying.

“Isak,” Bryon replied at the same volume. “Entitled, moody little prick. Jaro’s brother. Maia’s mate.”

“Hey, I didn’t tell you that,” Maia called across to him.

He gave her an annoying smirk. “I told you. I pay attention.”

Isak snorted, his breath ruffling hair at the back of her neck, and it hit her. They were all here, all together. Only Siofra was missing. But Maia’s mates were finally together, her soul bursting with relief and light and… power. Huh. There was a certain power in them all being in one place, finally united.

“And who are those lot?” Vawn asked her, as if Maia had any clue who the three men and one very surly woman were. Two were in uniform, either soldiers or guards, one was silver-haired and in full military regalia—ranked higher than the others—and the final man was older, with a hardened face, fierce eyes, and a stance that told Maia he was ready for war. He didn’t wear military clothes, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a warrior.

“Isak,” she said, her voice frosting over, her whole body stiffening. “Explain yourself, honey.”

“I thought I was dickhead?” he asked genuinely.

“Explain yourself, dickhead,” she snapped, giving him a hard look.

He sighed, ruffling his hair and looking sheepish. “I didn’t know who else would help me. Are you angry?”

Was she angry? Her stomach had plummeted, and she wanted to throw up. Violently. Kaladeir Nysavion stood only a few feet away, his stare fixed in her direction. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her since he dismounted the drake. Her father. The bastard who’d created her, abandoned her, and allowed her to be shipped off to Ismene’s court. Her father. Maia swallowed hard.

“I think,” she said, pitching her voice lower, “I’d like to run away, maybe forever.”

“Oh, excellent choice,” Isak praised. “I myself am a big fan of a run away.”

She snorted. “Come on, let’s go join the cuddle pile. Fuck my father.”

“He’s not my type. Can I pass?”

Maia groaned, grabbing his arm—avoiding the sword—and tugging him over to where her family knelt in the grass. Her real family, who had never once giving her up like an insignificant piece of trash.

“Wait, you should meet Harth,” Isak blurted. “He’s not a dick like your father. He’s noble and actually good, and entirely too serious, but he’s a good guy. He’s given the dick consort hell more than once on your behalf.”

A furrow formed between her brow and she paused a few feet from the cuddle pile. “Harth…?”

“Your brother,” Isak said very gently.

Brother. Her brother. Harth. Right. Okay.

“I don’t have the mental space for that right now,” she confessed to Isak, then caught her brother watching her. “Hey,” she said with a little wave.

He glanced down, a smile dimpling his cheeks and curving his eyes. Golden eyes, like hers. “Hey,” he said back. “Go spend time with your mates. We can talk later.”

Maia was glad for both his kindness and perceptiveness. It was awkward. Maia didn’t know what to say. She was glad to be spared, at least for a few hours.

“You’ll come back to Saintsgarde with us while we assess the damage the saints have caused,” Harth said. Her brother said. She was still reeling from the fight against the dark saints, let alone this. She didn’t want to go to Saintsgarde, she wanted to go home, but home was a sensation, not a place, and she’d rather her toenails pulled out than go anywhere near Vassalaer. So Maia just shrugged. It didn’t sound up for debate anyway, judging by his steely tone.

“Fine,” she agreed, accepting the offer for all her mates. Because it was an offer. A promise of safety and protection, for however long it lasted. From her brother. A whole fucking brother.

“Is your mind exploding?” Isak asked, nudging her shoulder with his. “Should I be worried?”

Her mind was unsettlingly quiet and weightless. No Sephanae. No drakes. Only a hollow, light sort of quiet. Maybe she was in shock. She was glad to finally reach her family, to collapse into the grass and let herself be pulled into too-strong, squeezing arms (Zamanya) and a careful, warm hug (Evrille.)

Isak slumped to the ground at her back, as graceful as ever, and Bryon and Vawn were there too, all of them huddled together—Maia, Azrail, Jaro, Isak, Ark, Kheir, Bryon, Vawn, Ev, and Zamanya.

That power she’d felt earlier rippled through her, like there was magic in their unity, and Maia let the tension fall from her shoulders, let the sigh leave her lungs, the tears leave her eyes. It didn’t matter that they were going to a city she couldn’t remember, or that her blood family would be there. Her real family would be too. And as long as they were all around her, she would be home.

“Not to ruin the moment,” Vawn said, glancing around at everyone, “but what the fuck do we do next?”

Behind her, Isak sighed, one arm slung over Jaro’s furry back. “Now we plan for war. And hope we win.”

Thank you SO MUCH for patiently, or impatiently, waiting for this book. I hope it was everything you dreamed of. Everyone will be together for the entire next book, not separated by different cells and storylines, and there will be plenty of spice to look forward to—and a happily ever after!

Book six will land on preorder late 2025/early 2026, but I can tell you the title will be QUEEN OF THE CHASM.

See you in the next book,

Leigh x