Page 76

Evelina

The entire palace was quiet, even though the sun was high in the sky. It would typically be bustling with life by now. But that was how each celebration before the trial went: a twenty-four-hour long party, resulting in fae sleeping the entire next day, only to wake up just in time to either take the trial or anxiously await the return of someone they knew taking it.

It was the reason Evelina was able to escape to the Radix Room tonight. She brought the painting standing guard at the entrance a crystalized rock she had found in Astern. Only those who brought a gift to her would be let into the room with the Mother Tree. Evelina had been doing it for so long that she knew just the kind of trinkets the painting would like.

“This is from beside the Syreni castle,” she whispered, holding it out.

The woman in the painting opened an eye and peeked out. The painting shifted as the woman leaned forward and plucked the rock from Evelina’s hand. She settled back into place and clutched the rock to her chest.

Slowly, the door to the Radix Room appeared behind thick, moving vines. Evelina pushed it open, breathing in the smell of the thousands of books stacked on the shelves .

The Radix Room was warm and quiet, the beauty of the Mother Tree on full display. It allowed her to feel more connected with the land, with the roots that ran to the farthest corners of the kingdom. There was a time when the roots stretched to the other end of the continent, but after the curse, she wasn’t able to feel anything beyond the Zenovia Mountains anymore.

Still, the room was bursting with magic, giving her the evening to herself. Ellerry was out prepping for the trial, along with Annora and the other Nox that helped. It made the Radix Room the emptiest place to be. Tonight, she wanted to be alone.

Evelina quickly scaled the Mother Tree, eager to rest and recharge her Essence. Once she reached the small bench that hung in the branches, she smiled.

She shivered as she settled on the bench, laying down on her back and closing her eyes. The room felt brighter than usual with the Harvest Moon streaming in through the tall windows.

She fell asleep, hoping she would see a glimpse of Daimon in her dreams, if only for a second.

Evelina blinked open her eyes, still in the Radix Room, though now it was dark. She leapt onto one of the thick branches, twisting around.

A soft, warm glow flickered on the ground through the leaves.

She descended, curious. When her feet hit the ground, she gasped. The Radix Room had shifted. The Mother Tree was the same, but the library was now smaller—more intimate.

Instead of a plain wall of books, a fireplace crackled with flames by the back window. Evelina hesitantly walked over to the pile of blankets and pillows resting in front of it. Books still lined the shelves, their leather scent wrapping around her senses.

It felt like a dream.

But she couldn’t be dreaming. The last time she was this aware in her dreams?—

A flash of light lit up the room, followed by a crackle of thunder.

She walked over to the window, watching as rain poured from the clouds. The pattering sounds of drops tapping against the glass covered her jagged breaths. Her legs began to tremble as her mind finally caught up to what was happening.

Her palm burned and she hissed, looking down at it. Her soulbond scar was glowing white.

“Eve?” a deep voice rumbled, as dark as the thunder outside.

She spun around, a flash of lightning brightening the room and illuminating the man in front of her.

“Daimon,” she breathed. He smiled, his eyes wide and as surprised as she felt. “I can hear you—I can see you.” She gasped, her feet frozen in place.

The candlelight illuminated his skin, making him glow.

His face was just like she remembered it, his eyes still the midnight blue she wanted to get lost in, his lips still curled up at the edges. His hair was still dark and falling into his eyes, but it was shorter than it had been; it didn’t curl at the nape of his neck anymore.

She could even smell the familiar scent of frost and cedar lingering around him, something she never thought she would get to smell again, wishing she could bottle it up and bring it home with her. He wore a black cotton shirt that buttoned down the middle, and black trousers that clung to his thighs.

It was him; it was well and truly him. So different from the glimpses she had caught of him during Harvest Moons past. It didn’t make sense why he was suddenly so clear.

But she didn’t care why—all she cared about was that he was here .

Her feet were still frozen in place, her body failing to catch up with her thoughts as she stared at him, her mouth agape. Her hands trembled as she took a small step toward him. She found him doing the same, both afraid that it was too good to be true.

“Have I been blessed by the Divine enough that it’s you?” he whispered. “Or are you just a mirage haunting my memories?”

Slowly, he walked toward her and stopped an arm’s length away.

“It’s me.” She swallowed.

He lifted his hands toward her—fingers trembling. He paused just before he touched her, as if afraid she wouldn’t be real. Or, perhaps, afraid she was real.

His hands slid onto her face, cupping her cheeks.

They both drew in a sharp breath. She could feel his skin against hers. He was colder than she last remembered, but it was still him. Still her Daimon.

His eyes glistened as they stared at each other in quiet disbelief.

“It feels so real,” Evelina breathed. “You can’t be real.”

“If it can’t be real,” he murmured, “then dream with me, Eve.”

She buried her nose in the side of his neck, breathing him in.

“Evelina,” he sighed against her, peppering the top of her head with kisses.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with tears.

He dropped his forehead to hers. Her pulse began to race and panic clawed its way up her throat. She had done it so long without him—had learned to be okay sitting in her constant pain. So much so that she had forgotten what it felt like to not feel it.

But now he was here, even if only in her dreams. She could still touch him, still hear his voice. It cracked her chest wide open, breaking down the walls she had built and exposing her bleeding heart .

“I’m scared we’re going to wake up.” Her voice broke. “You’re here . How can I go back to my life without you?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I’ll always be with you, Eve.” He placed his hand over her heart. “Always.”

She shuddered beneath his touch. She had forgotten what it felt like to be loved in this way, to be loved so completely and without restraint. There was so much she didn’t realize had faded from her memories through the years: the feel of his skin against hers, the smell of cedar and frost that clung to him, and even the way he looked at her—with unbridled love.

A slow smile spread across his face as he lowered his mouth to meet hers. He pressed a gentle kiss against her lips and her legs nearly gave out.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her so close she could hardly breathe. He walked them across the room, murmuring praise into her ear the entire way.

She felt something solid press against her back. Finally, she collected herself enough to pull back and look at him. His eyes were desperate—the sight of it matched the painful ache she felt in her heart.

She realized she was against the Mother Tree, the bark snagging her dress. The fire blazed behind Daimon, though his face was cast in shadow, dark enough that she could hardly see him. Her hands slid over his shoulders, pulling him closer.

“I think I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be held by you.” She stared at him, desperate to drink him in.

They were both different now. She had become the queen of Penyth, and he was the king of the dead. They weren’t the same as they were during the war. She was no longer a healer convinced she could save everyone, and he wasn’t a soldier spending his days flying with his wyvern.

She was younger then, more fragile. They both had lost a piece of themselves when she became queen and he surrendered himself to Vidaris. But they did it to save their realm .

She didn’t want to be reminded of that night, of that pain. She just wanted him.

“How are we here?” she whispered against his lips. She leaned back and cupped his cheeks, her eyes bouncing between his.

Year-round, she played the role of the perfect queen. But tonight, she allowed herself to be a woman again, to feel need and desire—to want what she wanted without needing to think of the kingdom.

“Show me that this is real,” she pleaded.

His mouth pressed against hers, causing heat to pool low in her stomach. She met every slow, torturous kiss until it became something more—something needy. She kissed him faster, as if he was going to slip through her fingers at any moment.

His hand slid to her thigh and he began to bunch the fabric of her gown. She reached down to help him pull it off, wanting him to move faster, but Daimon broke off the kiss, grabbing both her hands. He pinned them above her head, her wrists digging into the bark. She leaned forward to kiss him again, but he held her firmly against the tree.

“Stay still and leave your hands there,” he said as he held her gaze.

Her breath caught.

He released his grip on her wrists and continued to slowly peel off her dress, taking his time as he pulled it over her hips, her waist. He didn’t stop kissing her until he had to, and the moment the dress was off entirely, he brought his lips to hers again.

He stepped back and watched her with a primal gleam in his eyes. She squirmed beneath his gaze as she stood naked before him.

“As beautiful as the day I last saw you,” he whispered.

She started to lower her arms from where she still held them above her head, but the moment she moved, something wrapped around her wrists .

“I asked you to stay still,” he growled.

Her body filled with warmth and her eyes widened.

Shadows coiled around her body, slithering up her thighs and over her hips. They were cool against her skin, light and teasing. She whimpered as one grazed her nipple.

The shadows continued their ascent up her body and paused at her neck. Her breath quickened as a shadowy strand wrapped around her throat. Another strand continued upward, twisting around her arms until it stopped at her wrists.

“Daimon,” she begged.

A slow smile stretched across his face, admiring his work.

“Should I bring you paints to make a portrait,” said Evelina, huffing, “or are you actually going to touch me?”

But her words weakened as he stalked toward her.

Without a word, he slowly removed his shirt. Her eyes immediately fell to the scars that plagued his chest—they told stories of the pain he had endured. She wanted to kiss every scar until she replaced the memories with new ones.

He unbuttoned his pants and pushed them off, bringing her gaze to the knife tattooed across his hip. His shadows danced around her, caressing her skin as she struggled against the bindings still holding her hands above her head. He pulled her legs up around his waist, positioning himself against her and pushing in.

“Daimon,” she gasped. Tension built inside of her, her body drinking in the delicious feel of him inside of her. The shadow around her neck pulled tighter, and he chased every gasp that came out of her mouth. She met every kiss, every stroke of his tongue against hers with equal urgency. Every moan, every gasp, pushed them closer to the edge.

“You are mine, Evelina,” he rasped.

She screamed as the pressure between her thighs reached a tipping point, her vision blurring and body tightening. He groaned with her and gripped her waist, following her over the edge .

But she wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. She needed more.

He pulled back, silently reading her needs. Her arms suddenly dropped, and he stilled inside of her.

“This won’t be the only time you come for me tonight,” he said with a smile.

She was lifted off the tree, and he walked them over to the window, the rain still pounding against the pane. He set her feet on the ground and spun her around. Her palms met cold glass as she pressed her hands to it. Thunder splintered across the sky, so loud that it rattled the glass beneath her palms.

Desperation washed over her, needy and breathless. She wanted to remember every second spent with him, every touch of his hands and kiss of his lips. She watched as streaks of lightning spread through the clouds like a splintering web.

The moment she inhaled, he pushed into her again. Their breathing was jagged and quick, full of longing as the reminder sunk in that this was just a dream, that they might never see each other again.

As they fell over the edge together once more, he pulled her close to him, turning her back around.

They pressed their foreheads together, their breath melding. He reached for her hand, pressing his palm against hers—scar to scar.

“Even if the lands die, my love will remain for you.” It was a vow from him, a promise. “Until the stars collide and these wretched lands implode, my love will not falter.”