Page 122 of Night Fae

Zev considered the question. His family lay dead by his hand. The Court that had shaped and tormented him held no more power over him. Freedom stretched before him—and beside him knelt a human who had risked everything to save him, twice.

"I'm more than all right," he answered, surprised to find he meant it.

Prince Ashelon approached, his presence bringing Zev's awareness back to their surroundings. His muscles tensed out of habit, preparing for a fight despite his exhaustion.

"The Night Court acknowledges your deeds," Ashelon declared.

Zev met the Prince's silver-pupiled eyes without flinching. "I want nothing more to do with your Court."

Something flickered across Ashelon's perfect features. "Consider yourself severed from all obligations, Zevran vel Nacht. Or whatever name you choose to claim now."

The impact of those words hit Zev with unexpected force. No longer vel Nacht. No longer bound by blood or oath to the Night Court.

He was tempted to spit in the prince's face for good measure.

Sadly, Ashelon moved away before Zev could give in to that urge.

Around them, the temple had begun to settle. The violent quaking subsided to mere tremors, then to stillness. The tears in reality slowly mended themselves, edges knitting together like healing wounds. Where the deity had manifested, a complex geometric pattern now pulsed with steady light, embedded in the stone floor.

Leon approached, looking drained but resolute. "The binding is stable," he confirmed. "The deity's consciousness is properly distributed across the barriers again."

"And the shadow paths?" Daniel asked, leaning heavily against Caelen.

"They're doing what they should," Leon replied. "They need to be stable for the barriers to function."

Knox helped Adrian to his feet, both looking exhausted but unharmed. "So we can return home? Travel between worlds?"

Leon shrugged a little helplessly. "That remains to be seen."

Zev listened to their conversation with only mild interest. A strange sensation had settled over him. The ever-present weight he'd carried since escaping the Court years ago had vanished. That constant vigilance, the knowledge that they were out there and would never truly let him go—it was gone.

Malik's hand found his. "You did it," he said quietly.

"We did it," Zev corrected.

Malik studied his face. "What are you thinking?"

Zev considered the question. "I thought I'd freed myself years ago when I left the Court. But part of me was always looking overmy shoulder, waiting for them to find me." His gaze drifted to the bodies of his father and grandmother. "I never truly believed they would let me go."

"And now?"

"Now they have no choice." A grim satisfaction colored his voice.

Prince Ashelon approached again, this time with several of his remaining guards. "The Night Court will withdraw from Shadow Kingdom territory," he announced to Caelen, ignoring Zev completely. "We have much to rebuild."

"As do we all," Caelen replied coldly.

As the Night Court contingent prepared to depart, Zev felt a peculiar urge. He rose to his feet, steadier than he expected, and called out, "Ashelon."

The Prince paused, turning with a raised eyebrow.

"If you ever come near Malik or me again, I'll finish what I started today. The Night Court will need a new prince."

Ashelon's perfect features remained impassive, but something flickered in his silver-pupiled eyes. He nodded once before turning away.

Zev felt Malik's surprise through their bond. "Was that necessary?" Malik asked as he stood beside him.

"Yes," Zev said simply. "They respect only power and threats. It's the only language they understand."