Page 43 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

It takes a while to find our way out. How long exactly or what the route is that we take, I have no idea, but as we finally escape through a door after climbing a narrow staircase that’s so steep, my calves are burning, I’m ready to collapse and get the hell out of here.

But first we need to locate Varek.

We venture through a room, one that I think is familiar. So much has happened since we entered the citadel that, honestly, it’s difficult to recall the details. Another door and another room and Kael pauses.

“Okay?” I ask, not sure if I could speak aloud without panting heavily. Thank Christ for our ability to talk mind to mind.

“This is where we last saw them.”

It is? Though from his tone, Kael doesn’t sound convinced either.

I glance around. Nothing’s familiar. There’s definitely not a gaping hole in the floor.

I take a couple of steps, though, gaze finally landing on the off-colour tile.

It’s intact, looking innocent, and no doubt ready for its next victim. “So, what do we do?”

Kael’s jaw ticks. “Step around it. Carefully.”

“Thanks for the top-tier strategy, General.” But I obey, because that tile and I are never becoming friends.

We move slowly through the space, doubling back through the winding corridors of stone and faded glory. Eventually, we reach the chamber where we last saw all the sigils on the walls. Empty. No burnt furniture. No broken walls. No bodies, which… honestly feels like a win.

“Do you think they made it out?” I ask, my voice low. “As in, they haven’t been captured or something?”

Kael gives a short nod. “There’s no evidence of that.”

That doesn’t really answer the question, but I go with it.

We keep moving, each turn and shadow making me tenser. The air feels tighter the higher we go. And just when I think we’ve looped back again?—

Light.

Actual, blessed daylight spills in from under a door, and Kael cautiously pushes it open. We step into a small stone antechamber—one I vaguely recognise from earlier—and creep to the outer doorway that’ll take us outside.

Kael places a hand on the handle, halts. “Stay behind me.”

He eases the door open a sliver. A shaft of sunlight slips through, and he leans forwards, peering through the gap. His breath catches.

I shove closer, careful not to make a sound. And when I finally see what he’s seeing, my stomach bottoms out.

There are people. A lot of people. Locals, soldiers. Royal guards, their armour glinting with the telltale flashes of orange, swords sheathed but visible, posture coiled like vipers ready to strike.

Kael pulls back, letting the door close softly.

“Well?” I whisper.

His expression is grave. “We can’t go out there.”

I don’t argue. “They’ll recognise you.”

He nods once. “I trained half of them.”

“Cool, cool. So walking out means instant recognition. Maybe arrest. Maybe death.” I run a hand through my hair. “Love this for us.”

Kael steps back, pacing a short line. “They’ll assume I’ve betrayed my post. That I’ve abandoned the prince.”

I want to argue that anyone with eyes could see how loyal he is, but I also know how Terrafearan politics work—not well. Plus, there’s the whole thing of the prince being AWOL.

“So, what do we do?” I ask again, louder this time. Sharper.

He looks at me. I feel the flicker of his thoughts before he speaks. “We summon the Hendroy.”

My mouth opens. “You want to call Henny?”

Kael gives me a dry look. “Do you have a better plan?”

“Yeah,” I deadpan. “Run screaming and hope I get mistaken for a street performer.”

He doesn’t laugh. Neither do I.

“But what about Varek?” I ask after a beat, glancing back towards the depth of the citadel. “What if he’s not out yet?”

Kael hesitates. “I don’t think he’s here.”

I can’t argue with him. If they weren’t waiting for us where we left them, it’s unlikely they were hiding elsewhere. Which means Varek felt the need to leave. He wouldn’t abandon us… me without cause.

“I think they made it out of here,” Kael adds. “They’ve likely gone to the warehouse where we found Pax. The guards out there aren’t on high alert. They would be if Varek had been found.”

I nod slowly, throat tight. “Then we call in Henny and hope he’s in a good mood.”

He reaches for the rune mark still glowing faintly on my arm. “You remember how?”

“I say his name and try not to shit myself?”

Kael’s lips twitch. “Something like that.”

I step back into the shadows of the room, take a breath, and press two fingers to the rune. It warms under my touch. And then, loud and clear, I whisper, “Hendroy.”

The air thickens, and then it rips. A plume of smoke and shadow swirls into existence in the centre of the chamber. The temperature drops. My skin prickles. I barely have time to breathe before he appears.

The Hendroy.

Massive. Monstrous. Otherworldly. Nothing’s changed.

His form towers, vaguely humanoid but too fluid, like a shadow made flesh. Barbed edges coil around his limbs, and that voice—a low, distorted growl that seems to crawl straight into your bones—vibrates through the room.

“We need you to?—”

“No.”

“Wait, what?” I blink. “You’re not even going to hear the request first?”

Kael reaches for me, but it’s too late. The vortex slams around us—black mist closing in from all directions. Cold and force and some kind of unrelenting pressure shoves against my skin, and then?—

Light. Noise. Alarms.

We’re not in the citadel anymore. I’m still opening my mouth to argue—to demand he take us back to find Varek—when the sound truly hits me.

Sharp. Urgent. Terrifying.

I spin, taking in the familiar room. The medical wing. “Why the fuck are we?—”

Then I see them.

Dawson. Aelith.

Chaos explodes in my chest.

Kael’s already moving, tearing towards the bed where his prince lies pale and deathly still. Iris is bent over Dawson, her hands pumping compressions against his unmoving chest, her face carved with panic.

He’s not breathing. He’s not moving.

Oh shit.

I rush forwards, my heart in my throat, bile rising. The room swims, and I barely register Kael’s hoarse shout. “Sonny?—”

I trip over my feet, scrambling to his side. I hear him before I feel him—Kael’s devastation, his pain, pouring into me like a flood. His hand is splayed on Aelith’s chest, eyes wild, jaw clenched.

Iris lifts her head as we reach her, sweat dripping down her temple, hands trembling. “He’s crashing. We’re losing them both. Do you have something? Anything?”

“We have—” I lift the satchel, the weight of scrolls and books barely registering. “We have books.” It sounds so fucking weak.

Kael’s hand finds mine. He doesn’t say anything out loud—but the pull is immediate. Urgent. I understand.

He wants me to help. To connect. To try.

I glance at him sharply. “We better not die doing this.”

His lips twitch, but his eyes are full of grief. “I don’t intend to.”

“If I do,” I mutter as I grab his hand, “I swear to God, I will haunt you for the rest of your afterlife. I will endlessly rearrange your weapon racks and whisper awkward sex dreams into your ear at every opportunity.”

His shoulders shake. It might be a laugh. It might be a sob. I take his hand anyway, then press my other palm flat against Dawson’s bare, unmoving chest.

Cold.

So, so cold.

Iris flinches but steps back. Her faith—or desperation—keeps her from intervening.

Kael closes his eyes. I mirror him. And then I open myself.

The bond flares to life, white-hot, rushing like a storm through every vein. Kael feeds it to me, and I send it into Dawson. Like with Kael before, I give. I pour everything.

And pray it’s enough.

My new sigils flare almost immediately. Not just a shimmer but a flash—brilliant, searing, as though something deep within me is waking up for the first time. I don’t understand it. Don’t control it. But Kael’s presence grounds me. His energy wraps around mine, his mind brushing mine.

“Stay calm.” His voice threads through my skull, velvet and steel. “Focus. Just like before. Heal—but don’t give too much.”

Easy for him to say.

The brightness behind my eyes grows. My breath shudders as something pulls from inside me. Not just energy—life force. Kael’s and mine are tangled together now, strands woven tight. I feel his love for his prince, the weight of their years, their bond—not romantic but bone deep. Loyalty. Honour.

And it pours from us, rushing out in a stream of light, wild and thrumming and alive.

I can’t see it exactly, not with my eyes squeezed shut, but I feel it. It dances over my skin like fire without heat, like electricity without pain. It’s Kael’s strength. My stubbornness. Our bond, our will, our everything?—

And then it changes.

A shift, sudden and absolute, slams through me like a shock wave.

It’s Dawson. His energy—so faint, but there—reaches up to meet ours. A gasp rips from my chest. I open my eyes. I expect to see blinding light. Some mystical glow. Instead?—

All I see is my hand, trembling, pressed to Dawson’s still, too-pale skin.

No movement. But then—a mark. Right beneath my palm, a sigil begins to form. Black first, then pulsing deep violet. It isn’t Kael’s. Not even close.

It’s Aelith’s.

My head jerks towards Kael.

He’s crouched beside his prince, hand on Aelith’s chest, eyes half closed in absolute focus. The markings across his skin pulse in waves, casting him in surreal, celestial light. He looks like a warrior from another world.

Because he is.

And fuck me, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I swallow hard and turn back, forcing every shred of energy, attention, and will into Dawson. He can’t die. Not now. Not when we’ve come this far. Not when Kael is giving everything.

Not when I finally understand how much this means.

My limbs tremble. My vision swims. But I keep going.

And then—colour. A flush blooms across Dawson’s chest. The blue fades from his lips. His breathing hitches, once, then twice.

Iris is there in a flash, checking vitals. “It’s working,” she breathes, awe and disbelief tangled in her voice.