The Blood Crown (The Blood Folk #2)

54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

B one-tired, Aurelia pulled herself from the stone tub, the water cold now.

Her nerves had been frayed raw, and even the stolen moments with Ven were not enough to keep her mind from straying to what awaited them.

It was the calm before the storm, and she didn’t trust a second of it.

She’d trained on the Ledge until sweat drenched her shadowskin, her fingers blistered and raw—until she couldn’t stand. She’d focused her power, sharpening every weapon at her disposal—but still it didn’t feel like enough.

Toweling off her damp hair, she threw on the nearest pair of pants and a thick sweater.

Following the heavy, ringing blows beating out a primal rhythm through the fortress, Aurelia wound through the corridors.

Her pulse seemed to beat in time with every strike as she neared her destination. The scent alone would have led her here; hot steel and the tang of sweat.

She was no commander; she’d sat in on enough of Ven’s council meetings that she was beginning to understand battle strategy—but it wouldn’t make up for the centuries that the others had been pouring over maps and maneuvering armies. She’d strived to find her place in the midst of the organized chaos that was a kingdom readying for battle, but she couldn’t quite rid herself of this useless, restless feeling . . .

And so she’d found herself here—not bothering to tell any of the others what she was attempting. She couldn’t bear to admit failure if this glimmer of an idea proved unsuccessful.

Hot air kissed her face as she searched for the Mastersmith. The fire from the furnace illuminated the space, but every dark head bent over an anvil looked much the same in the forge.

A smith nearby turned, spotting her with a small look of shock as he dropped the red-hot blade onto his anvil with a heavy clink. “Your Grace,” he bowed low, a fist over his heart.

“I’m looking for the Master Smith,” she shouted over the screams of blades being quenched.

A silhouette roughly the size of a mountain headed toward them.

“My Queen,” a booming voice rumbled over the din of the forge. Hathos wiped his broad hands on his leather apron, then looked down, seeming disappointed with the result.

“Hathos,” she smiled, gripping his black stained hand. “I’m here to ask for a favor.”

The tone around the fortress had grown frenzied, humming with purpose. She knew the cost of adding another task to the smith’s endless list, but the male only offered her an indulgent smile.

“I see your claimed has given all of my secrets away,” he replied with a wink. “He knows I’m hopeless against a beautiful female.”

Leaving the heat of the forges once more, Aurelia continued up to the level above.

The path to the library was quiet tonight, save for the flutter of Cog’s wings as he glided beside her.

The ravens had descended on the fortress after their return from Eisenea, occupying every roof line and buttress at Ravenstone. And she had to admit their presence was a welcome one.

Cog had become her constant companion since his return, and she suspected the raven sensed the anxiety rolling off her, following her steps like a shadow.

The beast was just as demanding as he’d always been, softly clacking his beak in impatience if she stopped stroking his feathers for too long. Always threatening to get them reprimanded by an Allokin librarian with his croaking. Though the grey-skinned males and females never shushed him , the cowards. They were much too intimidated by the large bird to look at him directly, but even being a queen wasn’t enough to set her above the sacred silence of the library, it seemed.

Cog gave a loud chirrup, black talons gripping her shoulder as she glanced up at the lone figure standing at the end of the hall.

Valea’s silver-white hair was braided intricately across her head, trailing down her back as she craned her slender neck toward the massive library doors.

They’d been opened for the night, spilling golden light from the torches and the floating candles into the hall beyond the threshold.

The awed look on the female's face—so full of wonder—made her nearly unrecognizable for a moment. Her chin dropped, red eyes flicking to where Aurelia stood, the hard exterior she usually wore slipping back into place.

“The library is open to anyone,” Aurelia said by way of greeting, feeling certain that the female had no use for small talk.

“What is it?” Valea asked.

“A—” she stumbled over her words, searching for ones that wouldn’t come off as condescending. “A collection of books.”

“I’ve never seen so many . . . in one place.”

“The library here is quite beautiful,” Aurelia replied, relieved that she had something else to say. “Do you—” she silently cursed herself, searching for the words that wouldn’t send her reeling five steps back after the small progress they seemed to be making. “If you need someone to teach you to read, I’d be more than happy—”

Fire blazed in Valea’s bright red eyes, cutting her words short. The air between them growing frigid.

Well, fuck me, she thought, the Wraith’s crude tongues rubbing off on her.

Valea finally put Aurelia out of her misery, venom dripping from her words, “I’m a bastard—but I’m still the daughter of a king.”

“Of course,” Aurelia answered, realizing she should cut her losses and just leave.

She turned away, seeking the warm glow of the library when Valea spoke again.

“Things like this—” The female gestured a moon white hand toward the library, “would have been considered frivolous in my father’s kingdom,”she said softly.

Aurelia studied the female for a moment.

A warrior. A killer. The daughter of a ruthless king.

But there was something that Aurelia recognized in her. Something that whispered of a kindred spirit dwelling beneath that cold, icy exterior.

She’d been put in a cage as well, and she knew what it was to fight her way out—not quite knowing what was on the other side of freedom.

“They are essential.” Aurelia looked through the library’s towering doors. To the rows of desks and bookshelves, the warm, glowing fires. The floating candles. The predictability of the place. “Knowledge is a weapon like any other,” she added, echoing Ven’s words to her when she’d first come here.

Valea opened her mouth, shut it. Her hesitancy almost making her seem . . . human for a moment.

“You aren’t—” Valea waved a slender hand to encompass the fortress around them, “like them.” She let out a breath through clenched teeth, as if she were trying—actually trying to make herself approachable for a moment. “And yet you’ve carved out a place for yourself here.” Her carnelian eyes flicked up to Aurelia’s.

She held the female’s stare, knowing her next words might be the difference between Ven’s half-sister forever hiding in the bowels of the fortress—or making a home for herself here.

“I’ve found they care much less about where you came from—and much more about who you choose to be.”

The female seemed to consider her words for a moment, booted feet still rooted to the shadows just beyond the library doors. But she didn’t say anything more as Aurelia turned to step into the warmth of the books.

The night was quiet, calm—but there was a thread of tension that strung every conversation, every action now. The floating candles had doused themselves, only a few flickering above where she and Ven still sat on the second floor.

Her eyes scanned the stacks around them, surprised when they landed on Karro’s broad back, pulling books from the shelves.

She couldn’t think of the last time she’d seen him here—he and Asher were similar in that way, preferring the physicality of training over nearly anything else.

From where she sat, she could barely make out the title of the book he clasped between his large hands, but it seemed to be a collection of spells. Odd, but they’d all taken to reading anything that might give them an advantage in these final hours.

She glanced back to Ven, a book propped open in his palm as he raised a mug to his lips, taking a swallow of his black coffee.

An act so completely and utterly ordinary and yet she couldn’t have said how happy it made her. To be sitting across from him again. Drinking coffee. Reading books in front of the crackling fire.

But how much longer would it last? The normalcy. The peace.

She swept away the spark of fear before it had a chance to ignite.

It didn’t matter. For as long as they had together, like this, she would savor every second.

She snapped her book shut, setting it down on the table between them and standing up. Ven’s black brows raised at the sudden intensity in her eyes, but as she slid into his lap, the concern melted away into desire, his low rumble of approval licking fire through her.

His crimson eyes darkened as he scanned the shelves, taking note of the dozens of Allokin librarians and Wraiths scattered nearby. “Shall I tell them to leave?”

Her mouth went dry at the insinuation, and she nearly shook her head—but this was a moment too perfect.

So instead, she gave a small dip of her chin, placing a hand against Ven’s hard chest, the beat of his heart matching her own racing rhythm.

“Out.”

The command was spoken with such quiet authority that the large library emptied in a matter of moments.

A smile tugged at her lips, the thrill of it only making her blood thrum in answer as they were left entirely alone.

Even the floating candles went out one by one, as if politely excusing themselves, until only the flickering amber light from the roaring fire remained, gilding the sharp angle of Ven’s jaw, the black strands of his hair.

She clicked her tongue. “Abusing your power already?”

A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “For you—” His grip tightened on her waist, sending a flood of heat through her body. “Always.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “about earlier . . .”

“So am I,” he rasped. “It’s not easy—its not easy for me to think about you . . .” He didn’t finish the thought, but she knew what he meant. How he felt.

She hated the thought of him fighting . . . Not when they’d finally found some semblance of peace. Of safety.

But she didn’t want to consider what was next—not in this moment. Not with the way he felt beneath her.

“Does it ever get easier?” she whispered against his mouth, grinding her hips into his and drinking down the groan of pleasure that escaped him. “Will I ever stop craving you?”

His desire was hard and unrelenting even through the clothing that still separated them.

“Fucking Fate—I hope not,” he growled.

Ven tore open the shirt she wore, one of his, sending the buttons scattering to the floor with tiny protesting plinks as he palmed her breast. His fingers threaded through her hair as his fangs traced the column of her throat. And she tilted her head back in invitation, goosebumps breaking out across her skin at the delicious sting that followed.

Desire blazed through her—both her own, and what transpired from Ven as he took her vein. She nearly came undone as he pulled away, licking at the small hurt along her neck, her breasts heavy and aching for his touch.

His eyes were nearly swallowed with black as he untied the laces at her pants, sliding them down her hips until she was bared to him. And she reached for his shirt, taking her time as she undid every button—seeing the torture she was putting him through with every ragged rise and fall of his chest. As if it took every ounce of his control to remain still while her fingers did their work.

She slid from his lap and something primal flashing behind his eyes as he reached out, grasping her with preternatural speed.

“Do you wish for me to stop?” he rasped, clarity returning to his gaze.

“Never,” she answered breathlessly.

Her fingers pulled the laces at his pants, his eyes half-lidded once more as she palmed the length of him. He gripped her waist, hauling her on top of him once more, nothing between them now except for their shared breath as her hips hovered over his.

His hands traced the new curves of muscle she’d put on since returning to Ravenstone, the added weight of the nourishing food and the relentless training.

“This—” he said, digging his fingertips into her thighs, “is how you were meant to be.” His eyes blazed with something akin to devotion. “Strong. Capable. Alive ,” he murmured. “When I brought you here . . .” His words trailed off, but she already knew the version that he remembered. Wasting away, and not only because of the illness that had hounded her before she’d gone into stasis—dwindling away to nothing in the life she’d had before. “I truly wondered if I was the monster you claimed,” he whispered. “It was to keep you safe, to see you well—but deep down I’m a selfish fucking prick,” his voice was ragged around the edges, “and I wanted to steal every chance to be near you.”

She gripped his face between her hands, her lips against his as she murmured, “And you let me return, even knowing what I was going back to—you let me go because it was the choice I made.” She shook her head, regret thick in her voice. “Just as I chose you,” she added, fingers tangling in the thick, black strands of his hair. “As I would choose you across every lifetime.”

He bared his throat to her, the strong cords of muscle shifting where the black ink of his tattoos wound up his neck to meet the deep red of their blood oath.

This seemingly invincible male, feared across kingdoms—completely at her mercy.

He let out a low growl as her lips found his pulse, her teeth sinking into his smooth skin and the flavor of him filling her mouth. She was ravenous for what he offered, and she took it all.

Their joining was drawn out, both of them desperate for the small escape they offered each other.

But as dusk fell, they reluctantly pulled themselves from their cocoon, entering the great hall.

Dinner had long been underway, and at the front of the room sat their friends—their family.

Seth was seated at the end of the table, laughing at something Asher had said, both of the males grinning with such unrestrained joy that she hoped to etch the moment into her memory. Embra sat between Karro and Nira. Nira tilting her head toward her claimed, affection glittering in her scarlet eyes. Karro wore his usual amiable expression as he listened to the conversations around him, but his eyes scanned the room distractedly.

Aurelia straightened the fresh shirt she’d tugged on, raking fingers through her hair, attempting to hide any evidence of what she and Ven had just done. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway with the self-satisfied look on Ven’s face. His broad hand spanned the small of her back, gaze softening as it snagged on hers.

Karro elbowed Ven in the ribs as he pulled out an empty chair. And no sooner had she sat down, Nira slid a plate mounded with food towards her.

“I’m guessing you worked up an appetite.” The female gave her a wink as Embra snorted into her cup.

Blood rushed into her face as she took the plate.

Heathens—the lot of them.