Page 78 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)

The breath hissed out of her lungs as she bared her fangs at the darkness.

The need to snap her hips back against his, to take him to the hilt in one fell thrust, consumed her.

She held out and held on, her other hand reaching down between her thighs to feel his invasion.

She shuddered at the burn of his shaft beneath her fingertips, how he was already coated in slick with more gushing between them to ease his way.

Ravenna teetered on the edge, her need cutting deep. There was only a shiver of relief when she felt his root push flush against her cunt. She pulsed around him, stuffed full, pinned there in agony and ecstasy both.

Vallek trembled against her back, his big body beginning to move.

At first his thrusts were gentle, introductory.

The slide and withdrawal were as delicious as they were maddening, each making her want to claw and pull at his mane.

He drew her knee further up and back, creating more room for his rolling hips.

The muffled, wet slap of their bodies echoed dully in the tent, the darkness filled with the scents and sounds of their lovemaking.

He held her still, just where he wanted her.

His cock drove up inside her in a relentless rhythm, his thrusts gaining power and speed.

Unable to bear it, she rolled her hips, meeting his every upstroke with her own downstroke.

They groaned together at the new layer of friction and sensation, and soon, they were nothing but mindless motion, chasing down their orgasm.

She gasped and moaned sweet things, nonsensical things. She wept his name and begged for his mercy. Rumbles and whispers teased her ear, but he had no mercy. Even as his hands trembled, even as she pleaded, he was ruthless, keeping them both at that knife’s edge for as long as he could.

There were some things even a king had to bend to, though.

Hurrying to cover her hand with his, he used both their fingers to pinch her clitoris to his thrusting shaft. The unbearable pleasure seared her from the inside out, and Ravenna took flight. With a gasp, she came apart, giving him his prize.

Vallek soared with her, hips pumping in a brutal claiming. His spend lashed and overfilled her, spilling across their fingers.

Even as she came apart at the seams, the tension snapping inside her, Ravenna could feel their bond weaving another thread between them.

Strong. Unbreakable. It glowed golden in the dark of the tent, visible in the breath they shared and their harmonized heartbeats.

As tangible as it was ethereal, Ravenna held onto it and her mate, heart fuller than it had ever been.

An azai . A future. More than a dream and beyond wildest hopes.

They were hers—and she would never let go.

After and later, with Vallek feeling strong enough to dress and meet with Mattias to discuss the aftermath of the battle, Ravenna found herself surveying the damage with Leita.

With the loyal, watchful Thalia trailing behind, they made their way to the ruined citadel, not straying much past the doors.

A room of broken floors and windows, it couldn’t even be called a shell. It was just…ruined.

“Perhaps fitting,” Leita mused.

“Will you rebuild it?”

The new Fae Queen shook her head absently. “I don’t know. There’s so much…”

Ravenna understood. As they passed from one part of the palace to another, all they found were things that needed fixing.

Not every room was empty or ruined. Some were merely abandoned.

Some were stuffed full of furniture and other artefacts from when the palace had once been a home.

A whole room of paintings. Another of statuary.

Just one after the other of the unused, forgotten detritus of another life.

Leita regarded it with a sort of detached sadness. The woman said little, her arms almost always folded across her narrow chest.

Although she’d been proclaimed Queen, she looked no different from the homespun-clad wildling woman by the stream.

Ravenna had no familiarity in what the natural course of power passing from one royal fae to the next looked like, but it didn’t surprise her to know that after centuries of corrosion, the magic of the faelands wasn’t immediately taking to Leita.

Although caring for Vallek meant that Ravenna had missed much of the formal process of anointing the new Queen, she did witness Leita’s brief address to her stunned people.

Many fae had long since fled Fallorian, wishing to be out from under the suspicious eye of Amaranthe. Those who remained gathered in the palace grounds, astounded to learn that not only had a royal heir survived, but that she was here to claim the queenship.

“My aunt was a sickness. A blight. It will take time to heal what she has wrought,” Leita had said. “It starts with returning to the old ways. The magic must be allowed to renew and heal, and so the fae must learn to live as we used to.”

Ravenna hadn’t been able to tell which the fae found most surprising—a new Queen or being told they would have to eat and drink again.

There was no denying that Amaranthe had disrupted the order of the world, but the fae would now have to contend with a far more difficult truth.

Individually and together as a people, they had all become too reliant on magic.

It hadn’t started with Amaranthe, but it’d only made her usurpation more complete and more devastating.

Every fae would have to bear the consequences of that.

Most of all Leita, the one who now would lead them through it.

The faelands and the fae themselves were at a reckoning.

Ravenna didn’t envy her at all. Destruction was painful, horrible, but it was also easy. Surviving, rebuilding, healing, that was the difficult bit.

There was so much to do, so many places to start, it wasn’t surprising, either, that Leita found herself paralyzed with the enormity of it all.

Seeing her unsmiling face, Ravenna harbored a niggle of shame.

They had their bargain, yes, and one day Leita would have her azai and family, but that didn’t make any of this easier now.

It was a heavy mantle to lay upon Leita’s shoulders.

All Ravenna could do now was offer her support and friendship. Vallek agreed that the orcs would aid the faelands in their recovery. Leita wouldn’t be alone—but Ravenna had no doubt that she certainly felt alone now. A throne could be a very lonely place.

“It’s yours by rights, you know,” Leita said softly.

Ravenna’s nerves clenched tightly in her chest. “What do you mean?”

“There were times, very long ago, when sisters and cousins would fight for the throne. Whoever could best the others and defeat the old Queen became the new one. It’s how the unicorns decide who will lead, and many other beasts, too. By rights, you could be the Queen.”

Ravenna snorted. “No, thank you. I already have a precarious throne. I’ve no use for another.

Besides, the fae would never accept a halfling Queen.

” And there was the important fact that, with her more unruly grip on magic beyond that which was inherent to her, she’d make a poor conduit.

No, what the faelands needed was a young, strong Queen, one of full blood able to manage and command the magic.

Leita herself was all raw power, it was true, but with a little honing, she’d be a fearsome Queen. Ravenna held onto hope that Allarion and those fae like him who’d opposed Amaranthe would be able to aid and guide Leita until she was ready in her own right.

Their walk had brought them to one of the outer pavilions. Decorated in black sand and obsidian flagstones, manicured junipers formed something of a waist-high maze. The path winding through them led out onto a magnificent veranda, shaded by a trellis thick with established wisteria vines.

As they gazed out upon the harbor and the sea beyond, Leita sighed. An autumnal breeze floated up from the water, catching their hair. Ravenna tucked hers behind her ears, but Leita made no move, letting the long white strands dance on the wind.

Eyes hard, Leita told the horizon, “I still have no desire to be Queen.”

“I told Vallek much the same thing,” Ravenna mused. “I’ll tell you what he told me: that it likely means you’ll be a good queen. So long as you try.”

Leita turned her head, her indigo eyes dark in her pale face. Ravenna realized—she was scared.

“I’ve no one to teach me. All the other Queens did. Even my aunt.”

“You won’t make her mistakes.”

“No, but I’ll make my own.”

“That’s to be expected. I’m sure every Queen has.”

Leita looked away, her lips thinning. Ravenna could feel it, too, how the words weren’t nearly enough. Neither were good intentions. It would take a fierce force of will to lead the faelands forward—a will Leita had yet to find.

Her guilt only growing, Ravenna tried to do something she’d little practice with—comforting. Drawing closer, she laid a gentle hand on Leita’s shoulder.

“You will succeed, Leita. You will restore the faelands and make your foremothers proud.”

“Did you see that in a vision?”

“No.” She hadn’t had any since Amaranthe’s death. But, “I don’t need one to know. You will succeed. But it will take time. It will be difficult. There will be days you hate it, resent it even.” She squeezed Leita’s shoulder. “And that’s all right.”

A tear escaped Leita’s right eye as she gravely met Ravenna’s gaze. “I already do.”

Ravenna winced. “I can’t pretend to understand—but I promise you, you have an ally in Balmirra. And…a friend in me, should you want it.”

“I haven’t had friends before. Thalia has been the only one.”

“For a long time, I didn’t, either. But from one orphan girl to another, I promise, friends are worth having.”

A long moment passed before Leita slowly nodded. “I suppose…another friend couldn’t hurt.”