Page 50 of Hunger in His Blood (Brides of the Kylorr #3)

EPILOGUE

ERINA

S ix weeks later, our daughter was born. A perfect girl with light gray skin and blue eyes, which I hoped one day might turn silver like her father’s.

She had no wings, but she had budding horns that Kaldur would run the pad of his finger over in awe, ever careful with his claws.

We named her Alysara. In the Kylorr tongue, it meant beautiful dawn . After a full day of labor, the name was fitting, considering she’d been born just as the sun had crested over the forests of Vyaan. And that morning, when I’d held her in my arms for the first time, with tears streaming down my cheeks, as hair had clung to my damp forehead, all the pain had been forgotten and I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life than our daughter.

It was the first time I’d seen Kaldur cry.

Perhaps in sheer relief, considering the delivery had been difficult. He’d stayed at my side every moment, a pillar of strength seeing me through. But there had been times when I’d caught the stray edge of fear he couldn’t hide, as if confronted again with the possibility of losing his mate .

But then I’d watched my husband, my mate fall in love with our daughter, with glassy eyes and a quiet expression, his hands hovering over her like he could conjure a shield around her, to keep her forever safe.

He’d pressed his lips to her forehead as she’d wailed with life, flaring his wings over us so that Ekor and the handful of midwives he’d had at the ready couldn’t see our very private moment. They’d filed out of the room, leaving us alone so that we could coo over our child, admiring every little part.

And in the days that followed, we tucked ourselves away in the keep. Mostly for me to recover my strength and for Kaldur to watch over me. He didn’t let anyone disturb us, only Ekor to check on me and Maudoric, who he would never say no to. I would wake sometimes to find Kaldur holding Alysara by the window, rocking her back to sleep, the tiny bundle of blankets in his arms laughably small against the bulk of his body. I’d never known such peace, such joy and love as I did in those moments. If she was awake, however, he’d bring her to come feed. I’d feel the pinch of her latching onto my breast, contentment and relief flowing through me, as Kaldur watched.

And in the weeks that followed, once I could leave the bed and we got a better handle on our new routine and life with our daughter, we welcomed his family to meet their newest member of House Kaalium. Azur and Gemma, who had a wonderful calm about her that immediately made me feel at ease, though I’d been nervous about meeting them. Kythel and Millie, the stoic and quiet Kylorr male a complete contrast to the warm openness of his wife. Thaine and Lucen.

Kalia, Kaldur’s only sister, pressed her lips to my cheeks when she met me, embracing me tightly. “Welcome, sister,” she whispered so no one else could hear. And I sunk into her, a feeling of belonging finally hitting me with the words. They made me feel like I belonged in this family, like I wasn’t out of place. For one the oldest legacies in all the Kaalium, they made an orphan girl feel like she’d finally found a permanent place to call home.

Kalia had much to say about how we’d wed without inviting the family, however. Kaldur and I hadn’t wanted to wait to be married, though it was certainly out of the ordinary for a Kyzaire ’s wedding to be so rushed. Though Azur and Gemma had married off-planet, in a quick and cold ceremony at a Nulaxy courthouse, so they came to our defense.

In the end, Kaldur merely said he couldn’t wait to be married to me, and it seemed to please Kalia enough that she let it drop. With the promise, however, that she would throw us a celebration ball when we were next in Laras. Only when we agreed did she let it go.

They all doted on Alysara, naturally—especially and surprisingly Thaine.

But inevitably they needed to return to their respective territories, though Kalia lingered in Vyaan a week longer than the rest. Which I thought relieved Kaldur because he had someone he trusted to watch over me—with the exception of Braanelle—when he had to be away in the villages.

Eventually she too left, murmuring about an obligation in Laras she couldn’t put off. And while the keep certainly felt quieter after her departure, having my husband and my daughter all to myself again was a relief.

The first night the keep was quiet again, Kaldur put Alysara to sleep in our bed, her little face scrunched against his bare chest, his wide palm over her back. He’d dozed on and off, his tiredness a combination of helping with her late night feedings and Vyaan business, and I found I could watch them forever. Instead of reaching for my sketchbook, one of which I always kept near, I simply enjoyed the moment, tracing over the lines of their bodies, the quietness of their expressions, the movements of Kaldur’s chest which made Alysara lift and fall.

In that moment, and in many more, I knew true happiness and love. And it was more beautiful and awe-inspiring than I could’ve ever dreamed up.

“There’s someone here for you,” Kaldur whispered into my ear after he came into my studio. He glanced over at Alysara, napping in the little bassinet we’d set up for her near my drafting table. His gaze went soft, as it always did when he looked at his daughter. He reached down to smooth his finger across her cheek, as if he couldn’t help himself.

“Who?” I whispered back, feeling a swell of pride and affection fill me when I looked down at Aly. Perfection, I thought.

“A surprise,” Kaldur said, meeting my eyes again. “Out on the garden terrace. I’ll watch her. You go.”

I looked down at the last of my drawings for Kavelyn’s book. The final one before I could send everything to the printer to be bound and distributed. A hundred copies would go to each territory to start. I was so close, I could taste it. A dream finally coming true.

Curiosity drove me out of the room after one last lingering kiss on Alysara’s cheek. I navigated the keep until I found the door of the garden terrace in the East Wing, Braanelle waiting just beyond it, always on duty. But I didn’t think that was who Kaldur had meant.

Instead I spied a familiar head of dark hair through the glass door. I gasped, pulling it open, my heart thudding.

The hybrid Kylorr male turned when he heard me. Blue eyes pierced me.

“Luc,” I breathed, happy, confused, hopeful, relieved. I stood, frozen on the terrace in front of him as I tried to understand how he’d come to be here.

But then…

Kaldur .

Of course.

“Erina,” he said, his lips lifting in a half smile, uncertain as he studied me. There was a wash of emotion that entered his eyes, his gaze going over me, studying my still-recovering body from the birth, the slight rounding of my belly still apparent. “I—I’m so…”

I heard what went unspoken, the hurried words clogging up in his throat, as if he couldn’t wait another moment to get them out.

His eyes were glassy enough that he closed them, as a pinching of ache darted through my chest.

I went to him, wrapping my arms tight around him. I was glad that he didn’t feel so… transparent . It was an odd word, but it was the only one I could think of. Back in Laras, he’d looked like he’d been a moment away from fading away. So unlike the confident and brash Luc I’d once known.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whispered into his ear, up on my tiptoes. I didn’t trust my voice. I could barely see through the blurring of my eyes.

“Are you?” he asked, his voice tight with uncertainty.

I pulled back with a frown, keeping a grip on his arms as if he’d fly away. I wiped at my cheek. “Of course I am. How can you ask that?”

Luc closed his eyes again, and I heard his rough swallow. “In Laras…I… That day haunts me. The things I said. I know I just got here, but let me say this. I’ve thought of nothing else.”

I nodded.

He took a deep breath. “Seeing you again, it was startling. It made me feel ashamed, and I just wanted to leave. To disappear so you didn’t see me anymore.” His eyes fastened on me, despair in his gaze. “I’m sorry, Erina. I don’t know how I thought I could turn my back on you. I guess…I thought I was doing you a favor. Or else I feared I’d drag you down too. ”

His explanation brought a clog of emotion into my throat, one that I struggled to loosen up. “You’re my brother, Luc.”

He inhaled a deep breath at the words.

“You’ll always be,” I said. “I have seen you at your best, and I’ve seen you at your worst. If you think that one day would’ve changed my love for you…you know me better than that.”

“I do,” he said quietly. “I do. I…I got your letter.”

Hope burst in my chest as I led him over to the bench down the steps of the terrace. It would afford us more privacy, away from Braanelle, though still within a distance that would please her.

“You went back to Kyndri’s?”

He nodded. “She told me you’d left already. And I wanted to come back to Vyaan, to speak with you, to ask you to forgive me for how I treated you. But I didn’t know if you wanted to see me. Not yet.”

“I always want to see you,” I told him. “That’s never changed.”

A hesitant smile finally creeped over his features. He was so much older than I remembered, but I swore I could still spy the boy I’d grown up with underneath it all. I was pleased to note that his clothes looked new, clean. The shadows across his face weren’t quite so deep, and there wasn’t the bone-aching defeat I’d spied in his eyes in Laras.

“I was going to come see you, was saving for a ticket to Vyaan,” he told me, “because I didn’t think a mere letter would be sufficient. But then…House Kaalium’s ambassador found me.”

My lips quirked, and I hung on to his hand, squeezing. “He said you gave him quite the rough time.”

“I didn’t believe him. Not as first,” Luc said simply. “It was hard to trust again, you know? Especially a noble House.” I nodded…because I did . “But then the Kyzaire of Laras visited me himself.”

Shock made me jolt. “Azur spoke with you?”

Kaldur hadn’t told me that .

Luc nodded. “That’s when I finally realized that it was real and not some big farce. I…I had no idea you were connected to them. That you—that you would do that for me.”

A quietness dropped between us as we regarded one another.

“And now you’re a mother,” he said, his voice choking up again. “A wife. A Kylaira of the territory we grew up in. But ultimately you’re still you , Erina. I can still see you even though everything has changed. The dreamer, the romantic, the forever optimist. You never lost that. And after we spoke in Laras, it gave me hope. It made me want to be the boy you once knew because I saw the disappointment on your face when you’d realized I’d lost him somewhere.”

My brows scrunched down. “Luc?—”

“You made me realize I’d given up, and that’s not who I wanted to be. That’s not who we vowed to be all those years ago. And I came searching for you at Kyndri’s to tell you that,” he said. “Then a week later, the ambassador found me. I put up a fight at first, but…then I accepted the help. And it was all because of you. I came here because I wanted to thank you, Erina. Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for keeping me in your heart all these long years, even when I didn’t make it easy. You saved me. You really did.”

The tears that dripped down my face were both happy and sad.

“It was you who saved me, Luc,” I told him.

The confusion flashed over his features.

“I am who I am because of you,” I said. “You were a parent, a brother, and a friend. You never had to be, but you chose to be. I never forgot that. You encouraged me to be better . I allowed myself my dreams because of you. You have nothing to thank me for. I’m only happy you’re here.”

“You’ll forgive me?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” I breathed, leaning forward to wrap my arms around his neck, embracing him. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Nothing else.”

We embraced longer, a sense of relief snaking through both of us. Luc was a wound that had never quite healed since Laras. He’d always been a restless question, a worried ache in my mind. Kaldur knew that. He’d made this happen—he’d brought Luc here to make me happy.

Every day it seemed I found more reasons to love my husband a little more, and I’d already thought that an impossible feat.

“One day I want to come see the shop in Laras,” I told him. “All right?”

“You’re always welcome. When you get them printed, I’ll stock Kavelyn’s books. A big display, right in the front window, so everyone can see them. Just as you always dreamed.”

Tears stung my eyes. Happy ones. I pulled back.

“I’d love that.”

We grinned at one another.

“Come,” I said, taking his hand before standing, wiping away my tears. “It’s time for you to meet your niece.”

“Another surprise?” I asked, my laugh a little disbelieving. “I don’t know if I can take much more.”

Kaldur’s gaze practically twinkled, and I heard his unspoken thought. A naughty twist of my words that left me blushing.

“You can, my love,” he purred. Which was exactly what he’d told me the last time we’d had sex—before the birth—when I’d moaned into his ear.

While Kaldur had finally resumed his feedings from me, he still wanted to wait another week to be physically intimate again. Which made me impatient, considering we’d gotten the go-ahead from Ekor. But the last thing Kaldur wanted to do was hurt me, especially after a difficult labor, which I thought still haunted him a little. He was being cautious, and while it frustrated me, I also loved him for it.

His hand was curled around my hip, tucking me close to his body. The gardens were a wintry, quiet paradise this time of the year. Not a soul was around us, even though it was a beautiful sunset.

“I can’t tell you enough how much seeing Luc meant to me,” I said, enjoying the private moment with my mate. “Thank you.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to my temple. “He was already looking for you. Finding him was easy. A small thing.”

“But a wonderful thing,” I said. “You make me happy. So very happy.”

If I thought Kaldur could ever look shy , I saw the expression flit across his face at that exact moment.

“That’s all I want,” he said quietly, meeting my eyes. “To make you as happy as you make me.”

A bloom of warmth made me take a deep breath. Sometimes I thought my heart could pound so fast and hard it might burst out of my chest.

“But what’s this surprise, now?” I asked. He was leading me further into the garden, past the starwood bloom courtyard, the indigo flowers finally having gone dormant for the season, their crawling vines retracting. Very near to the Orchard, there was a new section that had recently been created. At the center was a large tear-shaped planter bed, which was the meeting point for multiple different pathways, all leading to different parts of the garden.

“This is your surprise,” he told me.

In the center of the planter bed was a tree. A gnarled tree with thick ropes of bark that trailed up its dark trunk. It didn’t have any leaves in winter and the trunk was rather slim, but I gasped nevertheless.

My lips parted, awe touching the edges of my mind.

“Is that…?” I breathed .

“Yes,” Kaldur said, smiling as he saw my reaction. “It is.”

“But…”

A dallia tree.

A walking tree, though it looked like it’d planted its root deep into the earth of the planter bed. It had made the alcove its home.

“It wandered off in the Orchard this morning, but it seems to like this spot,” Kaldur told me. “Though I thought we lost it a couple days ago. I found it near the starwood blooms, by the moon dial.”

Astonished, I approached the tree eagerly. “Hello there,” I greeted softly. “Pleased to meet you.”

Then I pressed my hand onto the trunk, and I felt the whole tree shiver, as if saying it was happy to make my acquaintance too.

“Where…wherever did you find one?” I asked, grinning.

“In Salaire,” Kaldur told me, regarding me with a small smile a few paces away. “Thaine often wanders the forests there. He discovered it, and he knew I’d been searching for one for you. It had been quite weak from the harsh winter. I wasn’t sure if it would survive the journey here, but…it pulled through. It’s been very active in the gardens, which is a good sign.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I promised. “I’ll bring Aly. She’ll love it, especially when she grows older.”

Kaldur’s lips quirked. “I thought you might say that.”

The bark was rough beneath my hand, its bough swaying above me.

My husband came up beside me. I beamed up at him, feeling my love for him, for how thoughtful and kind he always was radiate through me.

I’d never been wrong about him, I thought. Once, I’d lost faith that I had been. But now I knew I could trust my instincts when it came to him.

“You’re wonderful,” I whispered, going up onto my tiptoes to press a kiss to his jawline. “Thank you. ”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he murmured. His gaze went back to the dallia tree. “Maybe it will leave. Or maybe it will choose to stay. Regardless, I like to imagine it here. Wandering the garden with you, with Aly, watching over you both like a guardian. It’s young still. It’ll grow with our daughter.”

I smiled at the picture he painted. A wonderful one.

“I would like that,” I said against his skin. When I pulled back, I said, “I’ll do everything to convince our dallia to stay.”

“Just as I did to you,” he said quietly, those silver eyes capturing mine and holding them.

“Yes.” I laughed. “I suppose so.”

His arms came around me, and I sighed into his embrace, pressing my cheek into his chest, feeling the solid pump of his heartbeat. Forever comforting and reassuring.

“You’re everything,” I said, leaning back to meet his zylarr eyes, trapping me like a wandering soul. “You’re everything I had hoped you would be and more. I love you. Each day it astonishes me how much.”

Kaldur’s eyes turned fierce and molten. He leaned down to capture my lips in a hard, claiming kiss. I grinned and melted into it, clutching onto his vest when my knees threatened to tremble.

“My kyrana ,” he murmured. “I’ll choose to be by your side forever.”

“Just like the fable of the dallia tree,” I whispered. Then I grinned sheepishly. “At least, in my version.”

“Yes, you’re very good at rewriting endings, after all,” he teased. “Thank the gods for it.”

He captured my laugh with another kiss.

Beside us, the dallia tree swayed, its bare branches creaking like it was making music on the crisp winter evening.

And it was like magic. Just like stories. Just like our daughter. Just like a peaceful dawn.

Just like us .