Page 51 of His Dark Delights
“We can have a barn built for them on the palace grounds. Or you can continue letting them roam the garden. Whatever makes you happy. As for the farm, we can return whenever you like.” Ren leaned in, smelling freshly washed. “Anything for my Queen Lilliana.”
I smoothed my hand over his shoulder and rose onto the tips of my toes. “I’m not your queen. Not yet, at least.”
“Soon. You’ll be mine and all the world will know the beauty of my Queen of Flowers.” Ren cupped my waist, pulling my body flush with his. “In the meantime, let me hear you say it again.”
I curled my fingers in the back of his hair, toying with the dark curls. “Say what?”
He pursed his lips. “Lilliana, you are a dangerous woman.”
I hummed, nuzzling my face into his neck. “And you love me.”
“Gods, more than anything,” he whispered. “You know I love you.”
When I kissed him, there was an unspoken promise for more. I’d kiss him for the rest of our lives. “And I love you, Ren. So much, and with all my heart.”
A half-fae girl born on a farm. I hadn’t grown up with grand ideals of being anything more than what I was.
As an outcast in my village, I never dreamed of such excitement or passion.
But hope found me, as did love. Any dream I might have had was paltry beneath the shining light of the destiny before me.
Whatever our future held, I would meet it head on with Ren’s hand in mine.
As we approached Elleslan, my heart swelled with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.
The city sprawled before us, its towers reaching skyward like sentinels of sapphire stone and complicated history.
Once we entered the city gates, a cheer rose from the crowd, a sound that resonated in my very soul.
Townsfolk lined the roads, their faces a combination of curiosity and optimism, a reflection of the rumors that had spread like wildfire across the realm when the first waves of soldiers returned.
A chorus of voices, a song of acceptance and possibility, welcomed us into the heart of the kingdom.
The people reached out, their hands brushing against mine as we passed, their smiles a balm to my spirit .
The air was alive with the scent of celebration, a blend of freshly baked bread, and the sweet aroma of blossoms that adorned the streets.
Banners fluttered in the breeze, their vibrant colors a testament to the joy that awaited us.
It was a scene of unity, a vision of what could be—a kingdom hovering on the threshold of peace.
Ren rode beside me, his presence a reassuring constant amidst the chaos. His eyes, once shadowed by the burdens of revenge, now shone with a newfound light—a certainty awakened by the promise of our union. He glanced at me, his expression softening, a silent promise of the future we would forge.
At that moment, I felt a sense of belonging that I had never known before.
These were Ren’s people, now mine, and their acceptance filled me with a warmth that banished shadows of doubt, and the pain of my forlorn past. The journey that had led us there, fraught with trials and revelations, had been worth every step.
The streets of Elleslan unfolded before us, a vision of vibrant life and history.
Children ran alongside our procession, their laughter a melody that mingled with the music of the city.
I grew varied bouquets of flowers out of thin air, thrilling the children with colorful offerings.
A kaleidoscope of colored petals erupted overhead, filling the sky and streets with a trail of blooms.
As we approached the palace, the grandeur of its architecture rose to meet us, a symbol of the strength and stability that Soren had vowed to uphold. I took a deep breath, the weight of responsibility settling over me, yet curbed by the support that enveloped us.
We dismounted, our feet touching the cobblestones with a sense of purpose.
Rhydan smiled broadly alongside us and hadn’t stopped since we emerged from the Fae Wild.
Soren reached for my hand, his grip firm and reassuring, a reminder that we were a united front.
We ascended the steps of the palace, flowers growing behind my path.
Inside, the council awaited, their expressions a mix of anticipation and suspicion.
Soren addressed them with the confidence of a king, his voice carrying the conviction that had guided us.
Grand Duchess Cecily turned her pointed nose up, until my title of “princess” came to light, and her unwilling delight unfolded.
As we stood before the council of Elleslan, I knew that this was only the beginning.
Our journey had brought us to the heart of the kingdom, but it was the promise of peace and unification that would carry us forward.
Together, we would build a future where acceptance and sympathy eclipsed the boundaries of realm and race, a future guided by the light of hope and understanding.
The celebrations continued through the week, filling the palace and capital with music and laughter.
I felt a profound sense of gratitude. To Ren, for the people who had embraced us, and for the opportunity to shape a world where harmony governed.
With Ren by my side, I was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
The whispering leaves of the ethereal forest embraced me, their soft rustle a background melody as I watched Ren from a distance.
He stood at the edge of a fae village, his presence proof of change—an acceptance of the world he once loathed.
Morning sun filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the ground, a reflection of the shift within him.
For the past month, we’d periodically returned to the Fae Wild.
I observed Ren as he ventured into the fae realm, his steps cautious yet determined.
At first, the fae regarded him with suspicion, their memories of conflict a seemingly insurmountable obstacle.
Undeterred, Ren persisted, his actions speaking louder than words.
I waited as he approached a group of fae children, their laughter echoing through the trees like a tune of innocence.
They eyed him warily, their wings fluttering with uncertainty.
But Ren knelt before them, his gaze gentle as he extended a hand, offering small trinkets he had crafted—wooden carvings of creatures designed after my farm animals that spoke of his dedication.
The children’s hesitation thawed, replaced by curiosity and glee. They accepted his gifts, their eyes wide with wonder. It was a beginning gesture, one that carried the weight of a promise—recognition of the past and a pledge for a better future.
In the weeks that followed, Ren’s presence became a familiar and accepted one within the fae community.
He worked alongside the builders and carpenters, his hands steady and skilled as he contributed to restoring homes and storefronts.
The fae regarded him as he learned their ways, his humility and willingness to adapt a balm to the wounds of history.
One afternoon, as I gathered herbs in the meadow, I caught sight of him assisting an elderly fae woman.
Her wings were fragile, her movements slow with age, yet Ren treated her with the utmost respect.
He helped her weave a garland of wildflowers, his fingers deft as he listened to her tales of old.
It was a scene that filled my heart with warmth—confirmation of the man he had become. Ren was no longer the butcher king, a figure of fear and power. He was a companion, a friend, and in his actions, the seeds of amnesty took root.
As the seasons turned, a gradual meadow of solidarity blossomed between our worlds.
Ren’s efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the fae viewed him not as an antagonist, but as an ally.
It was a transformation that culminated in a grand celebration—a feast held beneath the stars, where fae and humans mingled in joyous harmony.
Queen Ellaria and King Soren breached the distance of the high table above the celebration and clasped hands, visual proof to all subjects in attendance that peace was always possible.
I stood beside Ren, my heart swelling with pride as I watched the festivities unfold.
The night was alive with music and mirth, the air fragrant with the scent of roasted meats, sweet pastries, and my favorite honey cakes.
Fae dancers twirled amidst the crowd, their movements fluid and ethereal, and Ren joined them, his steps hesitant but filled with genuine joy.
Gods knew Lunaric would tease him relentlessly for it later that night.
Though they’d tried to kill one another a time or two, a slow web of reluctant respect wove between my brother and my intended.
Lune appreciated Ren’s efforts toward redemption, and Ren begrudgingly admired my brother’s sense of humor.
Rhydan danced with a water nymph, his movements confident and smooth. His hands wandered to the nymph’s curvaceous rear. I rolled my eyes, smirking teasingly at him when he caught my eye.
As I watched Ren laugh and dance, the barricades between us dissolved, replaced by a living canvas of shared experiences and dreams. In that moment, I recognized that atonement was not a destination, but a journey—one that I’d guide Ren through, hand in hand.
In the silent hours of dawn’s early embrace, the realm slumbered under a veil of mist and shadows. Ren and I stood at the cusp of the Fae Wild, looking over the aftermath of the night’s revelry. The horizon blinked awake, promising a bright new day, a canvas of possibilities waiting to be painted.