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26

HARMONY

T he night sky bleeds dusky purple as I make my way along the riverbank. My steps are heavy with exhaustion, yet my mind races like the swirling currents below. Two hours ago, I watched Adellum kill a man—not just any man, but Sior, his mentor. The memory sits like a stone in my chest, both terrible and somehow liberating, because it had been for me.

I knew that I needed to talk to Adellum so I asked Tamsin and Holt to keep Brooke for the night. The look they gave me was painfully understanding. And then I went in the direction he disappeared when he left me with too many revelations and an aching heart.

I spot him before he sees me—a dark silhouette against the silver-blue water, broad shoulders hunched forward, wings folded tight against his back. Moonlight catches on the curves of his feathers, turning them ghostly. He sits motionless, staring into the river's depths as if searching for answers there.

My footsteps falter. What am I doing here? What can I possibly say after everything? Five years of bitter hatred dissolved in less than a month. Five years of convincing myself he was the villain in my story, only to discover I'd been wrong all along.

He doesn't move when I approach, though I know he hears me. The fine edge of his jaw tightens—the only indication he's aware of my presence. Up close, I can see his knuckles, still raw and crusted with dried blood. Sior's blood. My stomach lurches, but I force the feeling down.

I sit beside him, leaving a sliver of space between us. The night air smells of river moss and distant rain. Neither of us speaks. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring.

Adellum's eyes remain fixed on the water, silver irises reflecting moonlight like twin mirrors. His face is a perfect mask, but I can feel the storm raging beneath it. He closes his eyes finally, lashes dark against his bronze skin, and the gesture breaks something in me. He looks like a man awaiting execution.

My hand moves before my courage can fail me.

I reach across the space between us, my fingers trembling slightly as they find the sharp angle of his jaw. His skin burns hot beneath my touch—it always has, like he carries a furnace inside him. Gently, I turn his face toward mine until I can see the raw pain etched into every line.

"Harmony," he whispers, my name a prayer and a plea.

I don't answer with words. Instead, I lean forward and press my lips to his.

The kiss is gentle at first—tentative, questioning. A relearning of something once known by heart. His body goes rigid with shock, and for a heartbeat, I think he'll pull away. But then something breaks in him. His hands come up to cradle my face with a reverence that steals my breath, his touch so careful, as if I might dissolve beneath his fingers.

"Little bird," he murmurs against my mouth, voice breaking.

The familiar endearment unravels me. I press closer, one hand sliding around his neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath my fingertips. The kiss deepens, turning desperate, hungry. His wings unfurl partially, instinctively creating a shelter around us.

"I don't think you are a monster," I whisper, but he swallows the words with another kiss.

"But I am," he says, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against mine. "I'll always be whatever you need me to be.

The river babbles beside us, a constant whisper that takes me back to stolen moments in New Solas—nights when we'd slip away from Lord Arkan's estate to the secluded bank where the trees dipped their leaves into the water. How many times had we lain there, learning each other's bodies by moonlight, making promises neither of us knew if we could keep?

"We were right here once," I whisper, fingers threading through his cropped hair. "Different river, same us."

A broken sound escapes him, something between a laugh and a sob. "No. Not the same." His hands tighten on my waist. "I'm not the same man who let you slip away. That man was a fool."

"And I'm not the same woman who ran." I trace the sharp line of his cheekbone with my thumb, feeling the slight dampness there. "That woman was afraid."

"Are you still afraid?" His question hangs between us, weighted with all our history.

I kiss him again in answer, tasting the salt of tears—his or mine, I can't tell anymore.

My breath catches as Adellum rises to his knees, moonlight casting silver shadows across his face. The intensity in his eyes makes me tremble—not with fear, but with a longing so deep it hurts. His powerful hands slide beneath my thighs, and before I can draw another breath, he lifts me effortlessly into his arms.

"I need to see all of you," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "No more hiding. No more running."

He carries me a few steps away from the riverbank, to where soft grass forms a natural bed beneath a canopy of stars. The weight of five years hangs between us as he lowers me onto the ground, his movements careful, deliberate. His wings extend slightly, creating a shelter that blocks the night breeze, enclosing us in our own private world.

I watch, mesmerized, as his fingers work the laces of my dress. Each movement is unhurried, reverent. He unwraps me like something precious, something sacred.

"I dreamed of this," he confesses, his gaze never leaving mine as he slides the fabric down my shoulders. "Every night for five years. I dreamed of finding you again."

The cool night air kisses my skin as he peels away each layer. I should feel exposed, vulnerable, but under his gaze, I feel worshipped. His eyes track each inch of revealed skin with a hunger that makes my heart race.

"You're more beautiful than I remembered." He lowers his head, pressing his lips to the hollow of my throat. "And I remembered everything."

His mouth traces a burning path down my body—across my collarbone, between my breasts, over the soft curve of my stomach. Each kiss is a declaration, each touch a promise. When his lips brush across the stretch marks left by carrying Brooke, I tense slightly.

"Beautiful," he murmurs against my skin. "Every mark, every change. All beautiful."

My fingers find his hair, gripping tightly as emotion threatens to overwhelm me. "Adellum..."

He rises up, hovering above me, his massive wings creating a cocoon around us. Slowly, deliberately, he begins to shed his own clothing. First his shirt, revealing the dusky bronze expanse of his chest, the lean muscle that speaks of power carefully contained. I reach up, tracing the familiar patterns of scars across his torso—evidence of a childhood harsher than he ever fully explained.

"I thought I knew your body by heart," I whisper, fingers mapping the new marks I don't recognize. "These are new."

His jaw tightens. "A lot happened in five years, little bird."

When he's fully undressed, he lowers himself over me, skin against skin, and the familiar heat of him makes me gasp. He's always burned hotter than a human, his xaphan blood a furnace beneath bronze skin.

"I want to remember every inch of you," he says, his voice breaking slightly as he aligns our bodies. "Slow enough that neither of us forgets again."

When he enters me, the world narrows to this moment, this sensation. He moves with exquisite slowness, each thrust deep and purposeful. Our bodies remember this dance even as our minds struggle to reconcile past and present.

"Look at me," he commands softly when my eyes flutter closed. "Stay with me."

I obey, meeting his silver gaze, seeing the raw vulnerability there. This isn't the frantic coupling of before—driven by anger and desperation. This is something else entirely. Each movement is a confession, each gasp a forgiveness.

"I thought of this every night," I admit, my voice breaking as he shifts his angle, sending sparks of pleasure racing through me. "Even when I thought I shouldn't. I missed you more than I ever wanted to admit."

"I thought of you every second," he says, his rhythm never faltering. "You are my reason for existing."

His wings tremble as he moves within me, the moonlight catching on the feathers, creating a canopy of silver and shadow above us. One of his hands slides beneath me, lifting me closer to him, changing the angle until I cry out.

"There," he murmurs, satisfaction deepening his voice. "I remember what you need."

The pressure builds inside me with each deep, deliberate thrust. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging into bronze skin, feeling the powerful muscles work beneath my fingertips. The stars wheel overhead, witnesses to our reunion.

"I was wrong," I gasp as pleasure coils tighter within me. "So wrong about everything."

"Shh." He captures my confession with his mouth, kissing me deeply as he continues his relentless pace. "The past is dead. We're here now."

My release builds like a wave, higher and higher until I'm trembling beneath him, poised on the edge of something vast and overwhelming. When it breaks over me, I cry out his name like a prayer, my body arching against his. He holds me through it, his movements never ceasing, drawing out each pulse of pleasure until tears leak from the corners of my eyes.

"That's it, little bird," he whispers, his own voice strained with the effort of his control. "Let go. I've got you. Always had you."

Under the infinite expanse of stars, with the river's song as our witness, I know with absolute certainty that this man would tear apart worlds for me. That he already has.

I wrap my legs around Adellum's waist, pulling him deeper inside me as he rocks against me. The familiar rhythm of our bodies feels like coming home after being lost for so long. Time stretches and compresses around us—five years of separation dissolving into this perfect moment where nothing exists but his skin against mine and the stars wheeling overhead.

"You're perfect," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. His silver eyes never leave mine, holding me captive in his gaze as his hips drive forward. "So perfect, little bird. Made for me."

My breath catches at his words, at the reverence in his tone. For years I convinced myself that what we had wasn't real, that he had never truly wanted me. But the truth is written in every line of his face, in the trembling of his wings above us, in the desperate grip of his hands on my hips.

"Nothing was right without you," I confess, the words torn from somewhere deep within me. My fingers dig into the powerful muscles of his shoulders as he fills me completely. "No matter what I told myself, I was incomplete."

The admission costs me something—some final piece of armor I've been holding onto. But watching his expression crack open with raw emotion makes it worth it. His rhythm falters for just a moment, then resumes with renewed intensity.

"Say it again," he demands, his voice breaking. His wings create a silvery cocoon around us, shutting out the world.

"Nothing was ever right without you," I repeat, my voice stronger this time. I reach up to cradle his face, feeling the sharp edge of his jaw against my palm. "Not one single day in five years."

He groans, deep and primal, the sound vibrating through my body where we're joined. His movements become more urgent, more desperate, as if he could somehow make up for all our lost time with the force of his passion. The pressure builds inside me again, a coiling heat that threatens to consume everything.

"Harmony," he gasps, and I feel him swell within me. His wings snap fully open, magnificent and trembling in the moonlight as he drives deep one final time and spills inside me with a broken cry.

The sensation of his release triggers my own, waves of pleasure washing over me as I cling to him. For a moment, we're suspended in perfect synchrony, our bodies remembering what our minds had tried to forget.

Slowly, carefully, Adellum lowers himself beside me on the grass, gathering me against him. His arms encircle me possessively, one wing draping over us like a blanket of silver feathers. I nestle against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heart as it gradually slows. The night air should be cool against my damp skin, but I feel only warmth.

I recognize the sensation immediately—the gentle hum of his magic wrapping around me like an embrace. It's a subtle thing, this extension of his power—a shimmering layer of heat that envelops my bare skin and keeps the chill at bay. He used to do this for me during our stolen nights in New Solas, when we'd lie beneath the stars and pretend the world outside didn't exist.

"I missed this," I murmur, tracing idle patterns across his chest. "Your magic always felt like a second embrace."

He tightens his hold on me, pressing his lips to my temple. "It remembers you. Magic has memory—it knows what it's meant to protect."

I close my eyes, savoring the familiar sensation. His magic feels like sunshine distilled, like the warmth of a hearth after coming in from a storm. It cocoons around me, seeping into my very bones, chasing away not just the physical chill but something deeper—the cold emptiness I've carried inside me for five years.

We lie in silence for a long moment, our breathing synchronizing as we gaze up at the stars through the canopy of his wings. His fingers trace lazy circles on my shoulder, each touch reverent, as if he's still convincing himself I'm real.