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The Real Queen

N iko

I’ve lived five hundred years. I’ve fought wars and buried friends and comrades. I’ve been trained from birth to rule a kingdom built on ancient magik and older secrets.

But not one single bit of that prepared me for her.

Cassandra stands in the center of our chamber, faint light still flickering beneath her skin, and I am struck dumb by what she’s become. She is not just powerful, not just radiant. She is perfect ... and explosive.

The ancestral seals, the very heart of Runic’s royal line, bowed to her.

Before the Merging. Before a single vow.

As if they couldn’t wait for ceremony or council approval.

As if Runic itself was just as impatient as I am.

As if the magik of this realm itself had chosen her before I ever did. And I did choose her.

But this is something else.

“Say something,” she whispers.

I cross to her slowly, carefully, like I’m approaching a flame that already knows how to burn me.

“You broke every rule of this realm, of all the realms.” Awe coats every word that falls from my lips.

“Is that a good thing or a terrible one?” She looks unsure of how to proceed and so am I. But this doesn’t change a damn thing, it only proves I have made the right choice in choosing her.

I take her hand and the power flares again, softer now, like it knows me and accepts me. But it’s not just her magik anymore. There’s something else in it. Deeper. Hungrier. Older.

“I don’t know,” I admit. And I hate that answer. “But we will figure it out together, just like everything else.”

Because I’m supposed to know. I’m the one with the training, the history, the council, and the crown waiting on a golden dais. She’s the wild card. The storm. The fucking prophecy no one else ever tried to fulfill. And yet, I’m the one spinning now.

“You’re scared,” she says quietly.

“I’m cautious,” I correct.

She tilts her head, eyes searching mine. “What aren’t you telling me?”

I should lie. I should tell her everything’s fine, that the magik just jumped the gun, and the prophecy is right on track. But I remember the Oracle’s warning: Don’t lie to her. You’ll regret it. So, I tell the truth, trusting her.

“The magik that activated today, those runes, they don’t respond to bloodlines. Well, they do but not exclusively. They respond to power. And allegiance.”

She frowns. “What does that mean?”

“It means the magik thinks you’re already Queen,” I say slowly. “But not just of Runic.” Her brows pull together, and I step back, afraid of my own conclusion. “I think the realms are tethering to you. All of them.”

Her breath catches. “That’s impossible. I haven’t been to Quietus...”

“You don’t have to. If the prophecy’s true—if you’re the one it speaks of—then your soul was always meant to bind the realms. But we thought that meant peace.”

Her eyes widen. “What if it doesn’t?” she whispers. “What if it means control? What if it means collapse?”

The power humming in the room pulses once, like a heartbeat. “When the ancestral seals lit up, there was a second flare,” I say slowly.

“A second flare?” she echoed.

“Like a heartbeat layered beneath yours. Faint and echoed but still there.” I shake my head, like I’m trying to shake the memory loose. “It could’ve just been a magikal aftershock,” I murmur.

But I know it was more, I’m just not sure what it means. But a sudden realization dawns on me. We didn’t trigger the prophecy and we aren’t meant to fulfill it. We woke it up. Just like we were destined to.

“What do we do now?” she asks.

“I’m not sure,” I say with a sigh. I hate those fucking words. “But I do know we won’t have to set a trap for those that want to kill you. I don’t think they could do it now if they tried.”

I can see the relief on her face the moment I say the words, and I know it has been weighing on her more than she was saying. I take her in my arms and kiss her until we are both breathless.

“You are beautiful, Cassandra,” I say with reverence. “No, you are spectacular.”

“Flattery?” she asks with a raised brow.

“Is it flattery if it’s true?” I grin with a wink, trying to alleviate the tension.

She laughs freely for the first time in days, and I lose myself in the sound. My lips meet hers again but this time with passion. I kiss her until she is writhing against my body, my erection already begging to be set free.

I push her back onto the bed, following her. I raise on my elbows, smiling down at her.

“Before I met you, I was afraid to choose a Consort.” She frowns, so I continue. “I thought I would end up with someone I had nothing in common with, a vapid woman who was only after the crown. But now...” I kiss her hard. “Now I know my future is filled with so much more.”

She cups my cheek. “You make me feel more alive than I ever have before.”

We don’t share any more declarations of love or the future. We lose ourselves in each other. Hands, lips, skin-on-skin contact. My cock is buried deep inside her, her breasts trembling with every thrust of my hips. A blush blooms across her chest and cheeks as she crashes into an orgasm.

She moans my name loudly, scratching her nails down my back as I reach my own peak and pump her full of my seed. If I’m lucky, she will be pregnant before we even formally merge.