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CHAPTER

FORTY-SEVEN

Oralia

The Aetheran soldiers who had not yet surrendered lay down their swords at the sight of Caston removing his helm, gold hair gleaming in the dying light.

“Your king is dead!” he cried from across the battlefield. “Lay down your arms before you give up your lives!”

Asteria was cradled in the arms of Kahliya, who spoke in soft whispers, apologies not meant for our ears. Ren and I pushed through the throng, each black-clad soldier stopping to drop to one knee, spear their sword into the earth, and bow their head. The Aetheran soldiers gazed among each other before the first hesitantly dropped, followed by the second, third, on and on until all bowed before Caston, Ren, and me.

“Your king is dead,” Ren echoed, louder than ever before, hand hovering over Caston’s shoulder before it gently dropped onto it. “Long live your king!”

There was a tentative cry of “Long live the king” among the Aetheran soldiers before it quieted into a hush as Caston turned to Ren, dropping to a knee to press his forehead to my mate’s knuckles.

“Forgive me for my father’s crimes, King Renwick. Forgive me for the cruelty my kingdom has wrought upon you and your queen.”

My heart twisted, and I blinked back the haze as Ren cupped Caston’s cheek and bent to press a kiss to his brow.

“Peace between us, Nephew.” Ren assisted Caston to his feet and drew him into an embrace.

The soldiers of Infernis banged their fists against their breastplates, the tumult ringing in my ears as I breathed a sigh of relief. It was a word I had not truly understood until this moment, with Typhon’s gleaming sword removed from our necks.

Peace.

Caston turned to me next, and I gave him a watery smile as he gathered me up into his arms. I pressed my cheek to his, sighing as he put me down.

“There is much to be done to rebuild Aethera,” he murmured. “Promise me you will visit often, that you and Ren both will help guide me.”

Ren’s arm wrapped around my waist, his hand closing over Caston’s shoulder as I nodded.

“We promise.”

But we did not part from the new king, not right away. Instead, we made our way through the throng of soldiers, speaking with the wounded and offering them my gift of healing. Some did not take it, preferring for Caston to deliver the killing blow so they might begin anew within Infernis, to atone for the horrors they had acted out for their Golden King . Most, however, refused or lifted their weapons to fight us, but as we fought each outcry of loyalty to Typhon, I knew we would welcome their souls into our fold when they made the journey home.

The ones who accepted our help tended to observe Ren with uncertainty as he moved through the dead, wings tucked tight to his sides. He would pause over one form or another to release their soul into the afterlife or a demigod’s magic back into the world with a gentleness bordering on reverence. Ren picked his way through the crowd but stopped before a crumpled body, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he reached out with a trembling hand.

Slowly, I pushed to my feet to join him and then froze as the body of Mecrucio—mangled and twisted—came into view. Ren was speaking softly, though it was clear Mecrucio’s magic had already been released back into the world. And I knew he was releasing whatever lingering hold his soul might have kept upon this life. Within the act, Ren offered his forgiveness and acceptance of the betrayal Mecrucio had wrought.

Ren joined me as I knelt at one soldier’s side, the wound on his stomach gaping, hands scrambling to keep his intestines from spilling out.

“Breathe,” I murmured as the human man grit his teeth from the pain, light brown skin paling further.

Ren’s face fell as he looked at the man before falling to his knees beside him. “What is your name?”

The soldier froze in shock, his body trembling, but he stammered out his name clearly enough, “Firo Grayson, Y-your Grace.”

I closed my eyes as they spoke, the song trickling up my throat, a warm light of healing magic settling around my shoulders like my shadows. The man sighed in relief, his body relaxing toward the ground.

“Had you a brother? Or a son?” Ren asked.

The man cleared his throat and grief filled his reply. “A b-brother, Jesper. But he was killed months ago.”

Guilt trickled through the bond, and I opened my eyes to see Ren’s face stricken, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The magic pulsing with each beat of my heart was working on Firo, knitting the ruined pieces of his stomach back together, the color returning to his cheeks.

“I am sorry.” Ren’s words were soft.

Firo’s throat worked with a swallow as he nodded.

But Ren shook his head, running a hand back through his hair in a way that told me even more than the bond and the nervousness he had. The guilt weighing on his heart.

“Would…would you like to visit him?” Ren offered, glancing over his shoulder toward Rathyra.

The man’s eyes widened, and he nodded mutely before his attention flicked back to me. I managed a small smile at him as one of Ren’s warriors approached.

“You will be fine,” I murmured as Ren instructed the soul to escort Firo to Pyralis so he might see his brother.

The soul assisted the man to his feet before he bowed his head toward me, pressing three fingers to his brow. “Thank you, my lad…Your Grace.”

I extended a hand to Ren to draw me up when the man was out of sight. “That was a kind thing you did.”

He frowned down at our hands, squeezing mine. “His brother begged for death, to be released from the guilt of his life in Typhon’s army…”

“Just like so many here.”

Ren wiped his face with his sleeve and sighed before tugging me into his embrace. I went willingly, breathing in his scent as he tucked me beneath his chin. This was home, here in his arms, where everything made sense and the world was right. Even now, his magic—our magic—was working on me, filling in the cracks of what the resurrection had taken from me.

“How are you?” I asked into the leather of his baldric as he slid a hand through my tangled hair.

“I am…tired,” he answered, drawing back to look at me. Slowly, he leaned down until our foreheads touched, taking a deep breath. “And desperate for a moment alone with my wife.”

A grin pulled at the corner of my mouth, reflected on his face. His mouth covered mine, and it was another relief to have him draw me tighter into his arms, to have the darkness slither around us and swallow us whole.

Our bedroom came into view, though I paid it little attention as he walked us back into the bathing chamber. The tub was filled with steaming water, the clean scent cutting through the acrid smoke and blood clinging to us from the battlefield. Weapons and straps and boots fell to the floor with a clatter as we stripped each other of our fighting leathers. Ren touched me softly, reverently, tracing the line of my collarbones, the curve of my jaw, the hollow of my throat. And then, his hand pressed to the space between my breasts, my heart pounding into his palm.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “My beautiful eshara .”

He guided us into the tub, tucking his wings in tight, and I shivered at the warmth as we sank into the water. Immediately, Ren tugged me onto his lap, my knees resting on either side of his hips, before he threaded his fingers through my hair and drew my mouth back to his. Teeth grazed my lower lip, his tongue pressing forward to steal my breath. I whimpered as his mouth moved to my cheek, down to my jaw, before he kissed the space below my ear.

It was overwhelming to be touched by him after so long apart. The hollow cold in my chest had lasted weeks, but it had felt more like centuries. I could not begin to imagine how it had been for him to be without a body for that time, to be stuck within a realm that time and space had no hold on. Perhaps it had been longer for him—millennia trapped in that place.

“Are you hurt?” he murmured as he pulled back, hands sliding over each inch of my skin.

I shook my head, tracing a line down the white scar on his chest, the twin of the one on my own. He pressed a kiss to my scar.

“I have your heart.” It was not a question, but he raised his brows all the same.

I nodded. “A piece of it, yes.”

He hummed. The ends of his wet hair dragged across his shoulders as he tilted his head. “And you have mine.”

My eyes burned. “Yes.”

Ren’s smile was blinding as his thumbs stroked my face, and he leaned forward to cover my mouth with his. His presence here in these rooms was like breaking from the surface after drowning, like the first deep breath of unencumbered air.

“I am yours,” he vowed, pressing his brow to mine.

“And I am yours.”

* * *

For once, the prospect of lying down to sleep did not fill me with dread. Not when Ren cradled me in his arms, tugged back the sheets, and arranged me beneath. Especially not when he followed, frowning as he arranged his wings a bit awkwardly.

“Is it strange?”

He shifted again, rolling a little more onto his side to face me fully and resting his head on his hand. “Stranger than I hoped it would be.”

Tenderly, I brushed the furrowed space between his brow with my thumb. He caught my hand, flipping it over to press a kiss to my palm. “Rest, eshara .”

Though I shook my head, hands hungrily roaming the planes of his chest, my lids drooped with exhaustion. His fingertips skimmed the length of my jaw, over my brow, before guiding my eyes closed.

“I will be here when you wake,” he promised.

* * *

It felt like only moments later I opened my eyes, but the pale morning light was sliding through the window, whose drapes had not been shut. Hands skimmed across my belly, over my hips. A whimper slipped through my lips as a hard length slid against my backside.

“Ren,” I moaned as one of his hands slid between my thighs, and I arched my back. His answering groan was hot against my neck, mouth nipping at my shoulder. “I need you. Do not make me wait.”

But when he did not take what was his, I turned in his arms. His brows were furrowed once more, and though his cock jutted between us, the head already shining with the evidence of his need, his hands were gentle on my waist.

“I do not want to hurt you,” he breathed, thumb skimming the underside of my breast.

I brushed my hand across his face, rising up to press my lips to his. “The only way you could hurt me now is if you stop.”

His eyes fluttered shut, and as I pressed another kiss to his jaw, I traced the line across his heart, down the hard ridges of his stomach, before wrapping my hand around his scorching length. My name was a prayer on his lips as I ran my thumb across his slit, midnight gaze snapping open as I brought it to my lips, licking his taste off my skin.

“Is that what you want, eshara?” he all but growled. “Because once I start, I will fuck you, fill you, claim you, until you are dripping with my spend and screaming out my name. Once I start, I will not be able to stop.”

With those words, he rolled me onto my back, sliding my knees apart and settling between them. His wings flared out behind him, and I could not help but marvel at the sight of him—the power of him fully restored. And then his mouth was on me before I could answer, diving between my thighs and devouring me until I was screaming out his name.

Every kiss, every touch, every roll of his hips was another spark of power between us, another strengthening of our bond until our magic danced between us. Sunlight and shadows and flames, the power of the universe echoing throughout our room.

Later when our bodies stilled and we exchanged languid kisses, for the first time in my entire existence, I found I understood the meaning of freedom, of peace, of forever.

“I love you.”

Ren touched a knuckle beneath my chin, eyes glittering.

“And I love you, unendingly.”