Page 27

K yrie

The crowd of Fae parts before us like water, their eyes bright and their smiles brighter. The music is familiar, though nothing I recognize.

Lara and Morrow sweep by us as the Sword leads me to the dance floor, laughing and dancing like they’ve spent their lives learning the steps. Caedia spins around Dario with a tinkling laugh as he tugs her into his body, then spins her back out.

Then our friends are lost as the crowd of Fae flock to the makeshift dance floor under the stars.

I close my eyes, letting the music wash over me, a melody I’ve never heard but which feels like it’s a part of the very fabric of my being.

It swells, and the Sword takes my hands in his as my eyelids flutter open.

He guides me through the steps easily, grinning at me when I stumble and helping me right myself when the dance turns more complicated than I bargained for.

Before long, we’re moving in sync with one another, and the music kicks up a notch, the fiddler picking up the pace until I’m breathless.

A grin stretches my lips, and I lose myself to the pull of the Fae music, to the steps that feel as ancient and new as the world all around me.

The Sword laughs as he spins me, a joy and light in his eyes that I’ve never seen.

It’s not guilt or shame flooding from him, weighing down our connection, but effervescent hope, a golden glow of happiness that makes me ache for all the times he could have been like this, but wasn’t.

The music ends with a long, lingering note, and his hands sweep me closer, his breath warm on my skin before we pull apart again.

Applause sounds all around us, and then the musicians start up a new song, a familiar, rollicking tune I haven’t heard since I was a teenager. My steps falter on the first few measures of music, but muscle memory and repetition have the dance pattern coming back to me faster than I would have thought possible.

Arek’s elbow loops into mine, and when he grins down at me, more of the tension in my shoulders melts away.

I’ve never seen him smile like that, carefree and happy, and he seems younger, more real.

“Let’s see if you can keep up, old man,” I yell at him over the music.

Morrow sweeps in on the other side of me, Lara opposite the Sword, and I laugh as we switch partners, the tempo speeding up even more.

Morrow’s movements aren’t nearly as fluid as the Sword’s, but he’s easy enough to partner with, and I’m still smiling ear to ear as Lara and I circle around each other in time with the fiddle, then switch partners again before the sequence repeats.

Sweat begins to glisten on my brow, and I bark out a laugh as Morrow stumbles slightly, only to knock Lara off step a bit in front of us.

The Sword catches his arm around my waist, the music and dancing reaching a frenzied pace. Dario and Caedia are behind us, and we swap with them, repeating the sequence we did with Lara and Morrow.

I’m dizzy and high on the movement, the concentration I’m forced to exert on maintaining the steps of the dance making me feel freer than I have in a very, very long time. Dario curses under his breath as he missteps, and I duck to narrowly avoid running into his shoulder.

It’s organized chaos, and I pick my way through the steps with a sure swiftness that’s as natural as it is surprising.

Caedia beams at me as we circle each other.

When the Sword’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me off my feet with the accelerated movement, she winks as I squeal.

My arm wraps around his waist too, and our steps fall in time with each other as we finish the complicated pattern, the song finally ending with the entire crowd roaring “HESKA” in unison.

The deafening applause and cheers that meet the end of this dance leave me nearly as breathless as the way Arek smiles down at me, pure joy in his gaze.

Everything in me responds to that look, and before I can think my way out of it, I rise up on my toes and plant a kiss on his lips.

It’s as easy as breathing, kissing him.

His hands tighten on my hips, and heat rushes through me as he hardens against my abdomen.

Everything about him feels right.

I slide my tongue against his lips and he groans, pulling away with a look that makes my blood run hotter.

Unable to stop myself, unable to resist him, I rock my hips slightly as I reach a thumb up, running it against his lower lip.

He pulls me tight, bending to brush his cheek against the tip of my ear.

“You’re testing my control, love,” he growls.

I shimmy my hips against his, just because I can.

And because I like the feral way his eyes light up—and I love that it’s because of me, that carefully held control slipping, right here, in front of everyone.

“Everyone, attention, please,” a familiar voice rises above the murmur of the crowd, and I drag my gaze away from Arek long enough to see Shae on the raised dais with the musicians. A heavy sapphire cloth makes a dramatic backdrop to where she has her hands spread wide, the musicians still around her.

Arek pulls me into his side, away from the heavy temptation between his hips.

“Thank you for coming tonight to celebrate the mating of Arek Hrakan, our sworn sword, and Kyrie Elieson of the golden tongue.”

A buzz builds in the crowd, and I hold my head higher, refusing to be cowed by the curious stares burning across my skin. The Sword rubs his thumb up and down over the silky material of my gown, radiating comfort.

“With Kyrie and Arek now joined together, a new season for the Fae approaches. One where we are no longer hunted to extinction by a self-styled goddess in search of power.” Shae’s voice builds, golden flecks of her truth sizzling with life in the air around her. That strange internal chime sounds, goosebumps rising across my skin in response. “A season where we no longer have to hide, but can restore Heska to her glory alongside the humans who toil under Sola’s yoke in fear.”

My throat gets tight as I grapple with fear and uncertainty.

How the hells could anyone expect me to be able to make all that happen?

“Not you alone,” Arek intones quietly, and his certainty eases me slightly. “All of us.”

“Join me in welcoming Kyrie to us, the newest of the Fae, and a harbinger of hope.”

Scattered applause begins, along with murmurs that make me force my shoulders back, all too aware they’re likely about me. The applause swells, and I force myself to stand proud, ignoring the blush that’s likely burning to the very roots of my hair.

“And now, let our guests of honor take their seats and enjoy the revelry.” She claps her hands, and for a second, I think she’s applauding too, until the rich blue fabric behind her falls, revealing two intricately carved dark wood chairs.

No, not chairs, thrones.

Arek clamps his arm around me, towing me next to him as he walks toward the dais.

Finally, my brain catches up and I steady myself, forcing in a long, low breath.

I can do this.

“We don’t have to swear vows or anything, right?” I ask him out of the side of my mouth.

His chuckle rumbles against my side. “There are no vows that could possibly be more meaningful than what we already have.”

I stiffen slightly. Right.

Because fate forced us together, and what either of us wanted had nothing to do with it.

“What if I want to swear vows?” I ask him, my stubborn streak refusing to let fate dictate shit.

My eyes narrow and I frown because I’m not sure us swearing vows teaches fate a lesson, but?—

“It’s important to me. That we choose,” I finish softly.

He squeezes my hip with gentle hands.

With one smooth motion, he plucks me off the ground, setting me on top of the wooden dais. He climbs the stairs leading up to it, and I nudge my foot against the brightly colored rug laid across the top of the platform, uncharacteristically nervous.

The crowd in front of us chatters happily, watching us but clearly simply enjoying being together.

Lara and Morrow squeeze through to the front, Caedia and Dario following them. Caedia gives an excited little wave, and I grin at her, some of my self-consciousness receding in their warmth.

The Sword’s hand finds mine, and his palm is warm and strong.

It makes me want to lean on him, to let him hold me when it’s too hard to stand alone.

“Fate has gifted me with a mate, after centuries alone, and I couldn’t ask for a more clever, beautiful, or kind woman.” The words boom out of him, a fresh quiet falling over the clearing. “It may not be our tradition to swear vows at this ceremony where we are now gathered to celebrate, since our kind has always trusted fate fully. But I want my mate, and the destiny that brought us together, to know that I would choose her, all of her, in every lifetime, for better or for worse.”

Tears prick my eyes, but for once, gods, for once—they’re happy.

The truth of that vow sings through me, ebullient, gilded, perfect.

In front of his people, the people who look at him adoringly, their attention a spotlight of heat that rivals a sunbeam.

“It’s your turn,” he says to me softly, squeezing my hand again.

I’ve never been shy, as we both know, but as I regard the beautiful, otherworldly man next to me, as well as the remaining Fae in front of us, I’m tongue-tied.

“Speak from your heart,” the dragon’s voice says in my head, and I glance upward, looking for Han.

And then, most surprisingly of all, I take his advice.

“I was raised to use my words as a weapon. Lies were my blade.” I swallow hard, a nervous sweat breaking out on my hands. “Until now. I’ve been given a second chance, one that puts me at Arek Hrakan’s side, for better or for worse.”

It feels strange to use his full name, a name I didn’t know belonged to him until the past weeks.

But the truth pours out of me, uncaring about my feelings.

“I lived in the shadows, in lies and fear, and now I am before you, a woman choosing to change. Not because of destiny, or fate, but because I choose to hope. I choose to hope that the truths spoken by the man at my side never change, and I vow to love him as best I am able.”

It’s not groundbreaking, or poetic, or even romantic—but it is true.

I can be angry with him, I can be sad and feel betrayed.

It doesn’t change the fact that I do love him.

Those feelings didn’t die when I did.

Bright light streams from my hand, and the numerous people gathered gasp as one. My heartbeat picks up, the pace rivaling that of the musicians.

A second later, the light fades to a pale glow, that of the winter sun, or a silvered moonbeam.

It’s not coming from my hand, but from the ring on my finger, the one we nearly died retrieving.

It feels like ages ago. A lifetime ago.

And in many of the ways that matter, it was.

My human lifetime ago.

“Kyrie.” The Sword murmurs my name, and it’s not for the audience of Fae strangers, or for our friends, or for fate.

No, it’s just for me.

A gentle, calloused hand cups my cheek, and he bends down, brushing a kiss across my forehead.

It’s chaste, and yet powerful enough, gentled and careful enough that it makes me weak in the knees.

I never thought I’d need careful handling, never thought I’d be rendered this fragile by my own feelings.

Brick by brick, he’s taken down the walls I’ve put up, coaxing me out since I first found him bound in that filthy prison cell.

Music swells around us, and the party continues in the clearing, revelers less interested in us than in having fun.

Which is absolutely fine with me. More than fine.

At this point, I don’t even want to be interested in me. I’m tired of thinking.

“You saved me,” he says, but I know he’s not thinking of the prison. His gaze darts between my eyes, and the raw vulnerability there leaves me breathless.

“You saved me, too,” I tell him, suddenly weary again, of all of this. Of the formality, of being on display, of the pressure of their expectations. “I’m sorry I didn’t have better vows after it was my idea to say them.” I lick my lips, my mouth dry. “Also—and yes, I realize now is not the best time to ask this—why does the ring glow?”

He grins at me, his hand dropping from my cheek to the back of my neck, possessive and hot.

“Your vows were perfect. You are perfect?—”

“I am not perfect.” I shake my head emphatically.

“For me,” he finishes, then swings me into his arms, bridal carrying me up the steps that lead to the heavy wood thrones.

“Oh, well, then you must have incredibly low standards,” I snark at him, but I can’t help my smile.

This version of him, the one who scoops me up and sets me on a throne next to him as an equal, who looks at me like I hung the moon and raised the sun… I can’t deny how I feel about him.

“I do love you,” I sigh, resigned. “For better or worse, we’re stuck together.”

He snorts, raising an eyebrow as he settles in next to me. My hand is in his again a moment later, his fingers laced through mine. “Maybe the ring glows because of the strength of that conviction. Truly inspiring words, Kyrie.” Sarcasm and amusement drip from his tongue.

“Thank you, Arek,” I say loftily, imitating his tone.

Another laugh, though when it dies on his lips, all that’s left is lingering heat between us.

“I still can’t believe it,” he finally says quietly.

I shift slightly, tilting my head in an invitation for him to continue.

“That I’m lucky enough to have earned your love, in spite of everything.”

“Well, we could blame it on my universally acknowledged poor taste,” I tell him, batting my eyelashes. “Or fate, or the fact that you’ve been bending over backwards to take care of me for months now, even when I fought you every step of the way.”

“Definitely the bad taste,” he says in a gruff voice, squeezing my fingers. “You’re too far away.”

In one swift motion, he’s stood and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me out of my chair and into his lap.

“Much better,” he rumbles, running his fingers over my bare arms.

“What has gotten into you?” I ask, truly bewildered by this public display of affection. “First, you do more than grunt. In fact, you’ve spoken to me more the last few weeks than you spoke to me the whole time we were on the road. And now you have me in your lap in front of, well, everyone.”

“ You’ve gotten into me.” He grips my hand, then presses it over his chest, where his heart is. His gaze is steady on mine. “Right here, Kyrie. I never stood a chance.”

My fingers squeeze his before I let go.

Only so I can wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him close.

“I’m not always going to be easy to live with.” My voice is muffled against the crook of his neck.

“And I am?” he asks, making me snort.

“Obviously not,” I tell him. “And I’m still upset about… the whole human sacrifice thing.”

He sighs. “I know.”

“Rationally, I understand that you had to do that to save my life, and that you had good reasons for keeping it a secret from me, but?—”

“Be upset, my love. Stay upset as long as you need to. It will be my honor to keep making it up to you, to keep showing you how sorry I am.”

I nuzzle his neck with my nose, breathing him in.

The scents of petrichor and pine meet my senses, settling an anxious piece of me, soothing and familiar.

Like home.

When did he start smelling like home?

Wide-eyed, I pull back far enough to drink in the sight of him.

A muscle in his jaw tics as we lock eyes, heat spreading through me the longer we both look.

“I’m not going to be able to sit through this party if you keep staring at me like that,” he says on a growl.

My lower body clenches at the promise in his words.

“Is that right?” I ask, trying to sound cocky as I raise an eyebrow—but it comes out in a breathy whisper that belies my attempt at nonchalance.

A smug half-grin tugs up one corner of his mouth, and his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me towards him until my back is flush with his chest.

His heartbeat is so strong I feel it through the thin material of my dress, a steady rhythm that further puts me at ease. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed in years. In spite of the fact we’re both literally on a throne, on what might as well be a stage.

Not to mention while a goddess plots our demise.

Sighing, I drop my head back onto his shoulder and close my eyes.

Warm breath skates across my neck, exposed to him, and a shiver goes down my spine as his lips meet the skin there. It lasts only a second, and then something heavy and cold drapes across my neck.

My eyes open, and I lift my head from his shoulder, looking down at the glittery necklace he’s placed at my collarbone.

His fingertips brush across the nape of my neck, pulling my hair out of the way as he fastens the clasp.

“What’s this?” A heavy red stone the size of a quail egg sits in a wreath of carefully sculpted gold leaves. Diamonds glitter throughout the gold vines, and the entire pendant is a breath-taking work of art.

And it’s shiny.

I really love shiny things.

“It’s a gift.”

“From your treasure room?” I ask, still admiring the pendant. It’s heavy, nearly absurdly so, but I don’t care. This is the kind of jewelry that would keep me up at night while I plotted to steal it from its owner’s neck, and now it’s mine.

“Yes, but I can put it back if you want to steal it from me instead.” He chuckles, but a quick look up at him tells me he’s not entirely joking. “Though it’s not exactly stealing when I’ve been collecting everything in that room for years, for my mate.”

I inhale.

“For you,” he finishes, needlessly clarifying. He cocks his head at me, and while his expression is smug, there’s vulnerability in his eyes.

“It’s stunning,” I tell him.

“There is more in the treasure room,” he says casually, and there’s a challenge in his tone and his smile. “A whole matching set. Ruby earrings, a ruby and diamond bracelet…” He pauses, sizing me up.

“Are you daring me to steal the rest of the set?” I purr, glancing back down at the huge ruby and diamond pendant. It’s nearly gaudy, but I don’t care. It’s mine .

And I sure as shit want the rest.

“Daring, challenging… inviting, even.”

My eyes narrow. “What’s the trick?” I ask. “Is this some kind of test?”

“No, my love, no test.” Warmth washes through his gaze as he holds mine. “A gift. I know you. I know you want the challenge of testing my castle’s defenses. And I fucking love the way you look when you’re proud of yourself.” His teeth nip at my ear.

I blink, trying to recover some semblance of indifference, but the smile comes in spite of my best efforts.

“The gift is not the necklace alone, but telling you that if you step foot in my treasure room, you’ll be met with all kinds of resistance. Resistance and tricks.” He nods.

I clap my hands, unable to contain my glee. “You booby-trapped your treasure room just for me.”

“I never said it was just for you.” He clears his throat and looks away.

I poke him in his armpit, then tickle him there.

I’m rewarded with a gruff laugh.

“Admit it. You booby-trapped your treasure room for me.”

“Fine,” he admits. “I did. I did it today because I knew it would make you happier than if I just gave you the jewels.”

I throw my arms around his neck and plant a kiss on his cheek, delighted.

“Did it work?” he asks, raising a brow.

“I can’t wait. Can I go now?” I ask, kicking my feet where my legs dangle from his thigh.

“Not yet,” he says, but I can tell he’s happy I’m excited.

“Fine.” I settle back on his chest, harrumphing and crossing my arms.

“What have you learned about our village here?” he asks me. One hand goes to my thigh, softly stroking his fingers back and forth.

“Not much,” I admit.

“Hmm. I suppose I have myself to blame for that,” he says thoughtfully. “I should have brought you out here before now.”

“I could have come on my own.” I try not to wince at the combativeness in my voice. “I needed time…. Alone. I enjoyed working with Mushroom and taking Fil around with me in the paddocks outside the town. Plus, I never knew when the dragon would show up.” I shrug a shoulder. It sounds silly now, my reasons for not being sociable.

I lick my lips. “I didn’t want to scare anyone.”

“Half-truth,” Han says in my head.

I roll my eyes.

“I usually didn’t want to scare anyone,” I amend. A grimace furrows my brow. “And I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.” I mumble the last part.

The Sword’s fingers catch my chin. “Nothing about you would make them uncomfortable,” he says, enunciating each word carefully.

A sad smile plays on my mouth. “I was Sola’s chosen. Sola wanted them all dead. I wouldn’t be welcome?—”

“Stop,” he says, the word harsh, but his eyes soft. “You aren’t her. You never will be. You didn’t choose that path, and you are making your own way. You cannot shoulder that burden.” His thumb caresses my cheekbone. “Her evil is not yours, no matter what claim her handmaidens told you she laid.”

I swallow the words that try to come out, and I make myself nod at him instead, not trusting myself to speak.

I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear that, to be absolved of the long shadow Sola cast over me ever since her priestesses took me. Ever since I learned what it meant to be a silver tongue.

“Silver tongue no more,” Han’s voice murmurs in my head.

I glance up on instinct, looking to the moon just in time to see the dragon’s wings silhouetted against its glow.

“It’s creepy when you butt into a private conversation like that,” I tell him out loud.

The Sword follows my gaze, going slightly stiff as he notices the dragon overhead. “He’s talking to you?”

“Maybe I like being creepy,” the dragon suggests.

“What else have you been watching, you kinky fire-breathing lizard? I had no idea you were such a voyeur, but I’m sure we can put on a show for you if that’s what you’re into?—”

The night sky lights up as Han spits out a torrent of fire, and the crowd stills, then cheers as the fire explodes into a million multicolored dancing sparks.

The Sword swears under his breath.

“That is not what I’m into,” Han says irritably.

“I would believe you more if you stopped spying on conversations that aren’t for you.”

“Excuse me if I feel the need to protect you after you sank into depression for days on end.”

Some of my amusement fades, and the dragon sends me a stream of comforting images.

“I’ll let you know if I start sliding back to that place. Otherwise, my mate and I would appreciate a bit of privacy tonight.” I squint up at the dragon, now just a mere speck against the night sky. “In about an hour, especially.”

“What happens in an hour?”

I rearrange myself on the Sword’s lap, taking my time to drape my dress just so over our legs. When I reach between his legs and find him hard, I give him a mischievous grin.

“Whatever you want to happen,” I tell him, batting my eyelashes.

Laughing, he removes my hand gently, snuggling me close. “Then you better not touch me, or that hour will be more like five minutes. Let me tell you about the people here, and the village.”

I lean my cheek against his shoulder, watching his expression relax into a smile as he does exactly that: describes all manner of shops in the village, as well as the people who live there, sprinkling in anecdotes that make me laugh.

I don’t know how the Sword was able to hide all of this natural conversation and charisma for so long, but I’ll take it.

We’re even better matched than I could have dreamed.