55. The King
55
THE KING
" I t’s time."
King Vale shot Tharen a charged look, willing the mage to give him some peace.
A heavy sigh left Vale’s lungs as he bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling the unshaven stubble on his jaw. He was a mess. He needed it all to stop.
But a reprieve would not be granted to someone like him—or any of them.
Their chance for a quiet existence was robbed when the Fates called the five of them to their lair, revealing their futures with esoteric words and prophesied ramblings.
"You know I’m right, Vale," Tharen continued. "She’ll wake soon. And when she does, we need to be prepared."
Vale argued, "It’s been nearly six nights, and the Princess still sleeps."
They both looked to Luella. The heirus sleeping in her bed…
Her hands were folded neatly on her stomach, the sheets tucked around her waist, and her head rested primly on a soft pillow. Golden curls fell in soft tumbles around her face, making her pale skin all the more pronounced. Dark lashes cast shadows on her cheeks.
Vale found himself missing the soft gold of her eyes.
It had nearly been a week since the battle, a week of her unmoving in this bed, and Vale struggled to recall the exact shade of her eyes. They were like jewels, shining and vibrant. He willed her to awaken, just so he might be able to see the glimmer of hatred shining within. It would be better than this nothingness he was faced with.
As a dragon, Vale was attracted to shiny, pretty things, but nothing was as alluring as her .
He was fascinated with every bit of the fae Princess. The softness of her hair, the flecks of luminescent gold in her eyes, the way her nose upturned slightly at the tip, and the ever-present rosy hue that colored her cheeks.
The possessively insane urge to keep her trapped in his room and never let her go gnawed at him. He wanted to shower her with jewels and the finest dresses and parade her around to show everyone what they could never have. Or better yet, keep her tucked away and safe, something only for his eyes to behold.
Oh, and he would. Vale yearned to discover her all over, peel back her clothes, and trace patterns on her thighs and over her hips with his tongue. He wanted to make her his unequivocally.
But no, he had to share.
Fuck . He hated sharing.
Vale’s dragon clawed within him, desperate to be released.
I want her. Let me have her. She looks like she would taste so, so good.
Smoke curled from Vale’s nostrils, and he tugged at his hair at the mass of thoughts his dragon spewed at him.
Take, take, take.
Keep her safe.
Lock her up.
Mine, seethed the dragon.
His fingers shook as he smoothed the lapels of his coat.
" Ours ," Vale snarled in reply.
Tharen raised a brow, the sharpness of his jaw prominent as he cocked his head. "Trouble?"
Vale stamped down the urge to flee. To shift. To let his dragon win and take Luella somewhere safe, dark, and warm. They loved safe and dark and warm. And she would look so good wearing nothing but a fur blanket, wrapped up safe on a pallet, firelight flickering over her bare skin, and no one around but them.
Gods.
He needed to get out of here. He was going crazy. She was making him crazy.
Vale pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut as he ignored the pulsing tug. "No," he growled. "Everything is fine." But his words were gruff, and the scent of crackling embers filled the room.
They both knew it wasn’t fine .
He was a dragon, for fuck’s sake. Carnal desires called to him, and he could only ignore his basal instincts for so long.
But Vale did not get where he was today without forcing himself into a semblance of control. By pretending to be something he was not. Instead, he was chomping at the bit to shift into a dragon and never return, raze buildings to the ground, and fly free. Take her with him. Coat his snout with blood from those who dared to stand in his way.
He wanted to just… give in.
But Vale had never given in. Never been allowed the opportunity to exist as their kind should—unfettered by rules and niceties.
Shifters were ruled by their animalistic instincts. To feed, fight, and fuck. And every day was a battle to resist the urge to give in, to ensure he ruled his kingdom with fearsome, controlled might.
Tharen gave him a knowing look. "You sure?"
"Yes," Vale replied, a growl laced underneath the word.
Tharen merely nodded, used to Vale’s internal battle with his dragon.
The room grew quiet as the mage gave Vale time to calm himself. Or try to, at least.
Vale found himself focusing on Luella. The way her lips were slightly parted as she lay there, the tiniest puffs of air blowing from her mouth as she breathed, the soft rise and fall of her chest—evidence that she wasn’t dead yet.
That they could still win.
Still own her.
Strangely, the Princess calmed him. His dragon’s impatience was quelled the longer he watched her. The tempestuous roiling within him, the pacing and clawing. It all… stopped.
Mine , the dragon hissed—less a snarled claim and more a softly said cry.
And this time, Vale didn’t recant the claim.
She was his. Both of theirs. All of theirs.
Touch .
And Vale did.
He found himself standing. Slowly. Tharen watched him from the corner of his eye, unmoving and unspeaking, curious.
Vale brushed the back of his hand along the Princess’s face, barely touching her. Coolness radiated from her skin. He held his palm in front of her mouth, feeling chilled air hit his hand as she exhaled.
"Wake up," Vale murmured over her.
Something rustled behind him, and Tharen came to stand at his back.
"Soon," the mage proclaimed.
"How soon?" Vale nearly growled. But he didn’t turn. He kept his focus on Luella as she slumbered. He felt that if he removed his attention from her softness, he would break. That his dragon would win, and he would burn it all down.
"The Fates are never wrong." Tharen clasped a heavy hand on Vale’s shoulder, and his dragon roiled, seething at the unwelcomed touch. "If she were to die here, nothing would have meaning. She will awaken, and when she does, we must be ready."
Vale bit back a growl, knuckles growing white from how hard he stopped himself from attacking. Though the King was riled, his touch was gentle with his captive, a warm hand smoothing over her cold cheek. His hand shook in his effort to keep his touch soft. Even when he wanted to rip her from this bed and take her far away.
Tharen seemed to sense Vale was at a breaking point, but he didn’t back away. The mage loved to flirt with death, nearly as much as he loved to flirt and toy with females.
Vale could hear the smile in Tharen’s voice as he said, " The Vincire will be bound, and the queen will be crowned. "
The words made Vale’s shoulders tense even further, and he could nearly feel his dragon flick the end of his long, onyx tale as he wildly proclaimed, My bonded. My queen.
"The Fates are never wrong," Tharen repeated emphatically. His fingers bit into Vale’s shoulder. "We have not completed the bond, and she has not yet been crowned. Do not fret, my King." The title was a rarity—the mage was never one to give credence to hierarchies, but just this once, Vale knew it was Tharen’s strange way to show he cared.
Tharen stepped closer then, brushing against Vale’s side as the pair stared down at Luella. The mage’s tanned, scarred hand gripped her wrist, lifting her pale, dainty arm up to his face. Tharen hummed at the touch, a shaky breath filling the room as his features twitched like he was holding himself back, too. Undone from her touch.
"She will awaken. Her power is here, can’t you feel it? She’s fighting."
Vale felt it. He had sensed it ever since her eyes had fallen closed in Terra. A powerful pulse radiating from her, more than just the tug of their bond, but a call of her magic. Wild and untamed and unique.
He gave a soft nod, his dragon oddly quiet while he watched Tharen stroke over Luella’s forearm. "It is unlike anything I’ve ever felt."
"She will rule everything." Tharen shivered, but not with fear. Desire.
Vale’s mouth was dry as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over Luella’s cheekbone, a soft spark racing from her skin to his—a promising jolt.
"Everything," Vale echoed. "But us."
Tharen smirked, lifting Luella’s hand to rub it against his cheek. The action was strangely animal, and so Tharen that Vale snorted.
"But us."
One of Tharen’s white braids tickled against the back of Luella’s pale hand as he held it to his face. The color fit her, strangely enough. With her peculiar complexion, the white seemed more fitting than her current muted gold strands.
"I’m glad we got to her before the Tenebrae," Tharen murmured.
And just like that, calmness left him.
Vale locked his jaw at the mention of the Tenebrae. The mysterious male who had usurped the crown of Luna after killing the past King and Queen.
Vale chuckled under his breath. Not just a mystery male but someone he had once known.
Grown up with, played with, loved .
But that love had turned into a sour hatred as the years passed. As the soft male Vale had called brother, turned to something evil before his eyes.
His half-brother, Caliban.
His dragon hissed at the thought, and Vale kept his glinting green eyes trained on the steady moving of Luella’s stomach as she breathed.
Vale couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it had started.
It had been slow and steady. Caliban had grown distant, sneaking out at odd hours as his behavior grew more and more erratic. Before long, Vale would go stretches of time without seeing his half-brother, and then one day, when he did see him again, everything had been different, and Vale realized the one he had called brother could be treated as such no more.
Perhaps it was the fault of their late father. Vale was his father’s only full-blooded spawn, and Caliban was a bastard.
An accident, they all whispered; but Vale rejected that hushed gossip as bullshit.
Like it’s an accident to fuck someone until they grew pregnant.
Vale never did come to know the true lineage of Caliban’s mother. He had no idea what kind of female she was. Vale only knew his half-brother definitely didn’t take after their father’s looks. Vale had his father’s green eyes, golden hair, strong jaw, and ill temper; but his mother’s light curls and medium skin tone, a shade that shifted between deeply tanned and wintery pale depending upon the season.
Caliban had none of these, save the familiar green eyes of their shared father…
"Fuck! Vale !"
Vale was jolted from his thoughts at Tharen’s sharp words.
He blinked and looked around, only to see his hands gripping the silken sheets on the bed, embers crackling against the ends, sparking off of his fingers, and burning charred holes into the pristine white. It turned black and tainted from his touch.
Ash fell on the top of Luella’s arms, and he quickly brushed it off, furious at himself for losing control like that.
Fuck.
Protect, his dragon hissed.
"Godsdammit!" Vale cursed. " You protect. That wasn’t protecting her!" He ran a shaking hand through his hair.
He knew he looked mad, talking to himself like this. Only the other four knew of the internal battles he waged with his dragon. If he gave in, it wouldn’t be so bad. But he could not.
Shaking his hands out to dispel the fire burning at his fingertips, Vale stood, unable to stomach being near her like this.
What if Tharen hadn’t been there?
What if Vale had been alone, with no one to stop him?
What would have happened then?
"I can’t," Vale breathed, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. He could still feel her on his fingertips, smell her on his skin.
Mine .
"I have to go—" Vale wasted no time, words cutting off as he felt his dragon give a valiant roar within him. He burned.
Vale barely noticed Tharen’s pinched features or the way he sat almost gingerly on the edge of the bed, fingers trailing through Luella’s soft hair.
Take her. Now . The dragon’s demands echoed throughout his head.
And Vale did the only thing he knew to stave off the beast: relent.
He stumbled to the double glass doors of the balcony, bracing a hand on the wall to keep himself from falling over with his unsteady gate. The cool night air nipped at his heated skin, and Vale tipped his head back, relishing in the feel of it, but it did nothing to abate the prowling beast rattling the bars of his ribcage.
Out .
A demand he could agree with…
Without any more thought, Vale hauled himself over the railing, rocking in the wind as he stood on shaking legs, nothing keeping him from tumbling right over the side.
The wind whipped through his hair and ruffled the silk of his already-wrinkled shirt. The side of the palace overlooked the cliffs, a steep face of rocks that fell right into the roaring sea below.
Waves crashed against the rockface, and the salty air tickled against his senses.
A strong urge to look back licked at him—called to him. That damnable call, Vale didn’t know how he had resisted it before.
Vale steeled himself against it with a gritted jaw.
And then, he jumped.
The wind howled around him, and he fell down, down; his dragon let out a long sigh, pleased.
Good , his dragon grumbled.
In mid-air, Vale’s skin tore, bones cracking, and flesh turning into something larger.
His wings snapped into being, onyx scales overtaking flesh as he shifted.
Warm puffs of air blew from his snout as his wings flapped, lifting him upwards into the night sky. He passed through wispy clouds and winked at the stars, strong wingbeats taking him somewhere further. Safer.
Warmer.
His den.
As the dragon flew through the night sky, he was called back, a tug in his soul that, this time, he could not quite resist.
His large head turned, looking back to the imposing castle perched upon the edge of the cliffs.
Right to the opened balcony doors and what he knew lay inside them.
Mine .
Vale’s feet moved without his permission, taking him down the corridors of the castle.
It was like a dream, almost.
Everything felt disoriented, fuzzy, and just out of his reach. Like that strange space between wake and sleep.
The candlelight flickered in the scones along the walls. The flames swayed to the side as he passed by, reaching out to him.
He knew where he was going, where he was being called.
It was time.
Mine , his dragon hissed.
"Ours," Vale murmured under his breath.
It was night, and the moon filtered through the thin windows along the halls, casting elongated strips of white illumination on the dark floors. The amber flames mingled with the brightness of the moon, gold and silver intertwining.
A portent of the something more that was coming. A sign it was all changing, and no one could stop it.
The marriage of light and dark, shadows and brightness, was all around.
And as Vale came to a jarring stop at the door leading to Luella’s chambers, he felt it deep within his soul: the call of irresistible magic, the tether that kept their fates closely entwined.
Vale pushed open the door.
They were already there. All four gathered around Luella as she lay motionless on the bed.
The King stumbled inside, eyes locking on the Princess and never leaving, even as the others looked curiously at him. His rumpled clothes, shirt half-buttoned, and feet bare. Vale had woken from his bed as if dragged from a dream—as if he was still dreaming. His hair was mussed with sleep, and his eyes half-lidded.
He finally tore his eyes from her and cast a cursory glance around the room.
Vale looked a mess, he knew. But at least they all did.
Tharen was shirtless—no surprise there—and looked as hazily riled as Vale felt. Graves wore no gloves, but his shirt was laced to his collarbones, and he wore thick breeches with heavy boots on his feet. The male hadn’t been asleep, then? Out collecting secrets, no doubt…
The laces on Bastian’s pants were untied, and a silken robe fluttered open around his bare chest. The silky strands of his dark hair stood up around the crown of his head, and Vale gave a half-smile. The vampire was always put together, just as Vale was. It was a rare sight to see him so ruffled.
And Azgorath, Vale took him in. The demon looked wild and rawly untamed as he sat on the edge of Luella’s bed, tanned, shaking hands gripping her pale, still ones. His bare chest was scarred; Vale knew the sources of many of the old, white marks that lined his skin. Battles fought together. And even the small cut on his lower stomach when Vale had accidentally nicked him with a sword when they were training. From before . When Vale hadn’t driven him away.
Vale was the first to break the silence. "It is time. Her power…" He was without words.
"I’ve never—" Bastian cleared his throat. His voice was gruff with disuse and sleep. "I’ve never felt anything like it. Like her."
Vale agreed. Even now, with her, he felt it. The call.
The room was teeming with power, something they had never seen the likes of before, even as old as they all were. Centuries, they had all lived, and Vale had never felt power so deep, so visceral and raw.
"Fate always prevails." Tharen stroked a hand along the silken sheets of Luella’s bed.
Vale noted the scorch marks were gone, even though it was just yesterday he had been in here and almost burned her silk linens to ash. Graves or Bastian most likely had switched out the blankets. Vale looked to the pair, regarding how still they stood. Waiting for this indubitable change to occur, breaths still, as if in fear any move would set it off.
"You feel it?" Azgorath muttered, entranced as he held Luella’s hands. He didn’t look up, didn’t look away from her like he couldn’t, utterly trapped.
Vale knew the feeling well. It was taking all of his willpower to keep his feet firmly planted on the floor and not charge forward and scoop her up like he so desperately desired.
"Power," Graves conceded. "Mountains of it."
No one replied, afraid to break the wondrous heaviness of the room.
The air was thick and heady with tension, one little move would cause it all to snap and break.
A secret part of Vale wanted to see that deeply. He wanted to see her change, wanted to see her wake up and feel the call in her own gut, just as he had for the past centuries. Maybe then she would understand they were destined.
She could run, but she could not hide from this. From him.
Make her mine, take her, keep her safe, his dragon chanted in his head, overwhelmed by the power in the room.
Azgorath looked up but didn’t take his hands off Luella as he asked, "What do we do now?"
"We wait," Graves uttered.
And wait, they would.
Vale rounded the side of the bed, heading to the balcony doors. They were cracked open, letting in faint gusts of night air, and Vale placed his hand on the curved handles and pushed the doors open fully.
It was loud. Or maybe he had been in the quiet for too long.
Either way, everything was extraordinarily vibrant.
The waves crashed harshly against the rocks below, swirls of darkness and seafoam curling against the blanket of thick blue sea. The ocean was nearly black at night, a mirror that reflected the speckle of stars above. The sky was cloudless, and the moon was full, a perfectly round face of pure white shining high in the sky.
Even the moon did not hide this night, forever watching above.
Wind rustled against his hair, blowing the tousled strands into further disarray. And for once, Vale didn’t care. Just this once, he would allow himself to be as wild and untamed as the sky and the ocean. Just this once, he would give into his carnal desires and animalistic nature.
A wide smile curled upon Vale’s lips as he let his head tilt back, basking in the beauties of the earth.
The roaring outside silenced the sound of the talking inside, and Vale was glad. He did not want to hear any more talk of the Tenebrae or war. He just wanted to be . If only for a little while.
The King stood still and silent, the call within him always tugging him back, urging him to turn and look.
And this time, Vale did not ignore it; his dragon pushed him to turn. Already, he felt possessiveness well up from the beast.
Look, look, look.
Mine. Keep her safe.
Vale turned his head, looking into the safe cocoon of the room. Golden light from the candles flickered, and there she lay, cast in moonlight and flame.
His heart clenched with something unfamiliar.
Protect .
Go to her.
Vale answered the plea of his dragon. He turned fully, stepping out of the cover of night and into the dim warmth of Luella’s room.
Just as he stepped over the threshold, it happened.
The moon crested toward the highest point of the sky, and the earth trembled under his feet.
The very walls of the castle shook with the force of something grander than he could ever imagine.
Her power.
As if in a trance, Vale moved forward. Everything was fuzzy; the room rocked around him, and his hands shook as he steadied himself with a palm braced against the trembling wall.
He tilted to the side but did not fall—a strange feeling of vertigo. His head spun, and his shoulders caved forward with the weight of buzzing power. It emanated from her in droves, making his throat thick and his heart stutter in his chest.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine…
His dragon paced in the bars of the cage within Vale’s soul, seething as he demanded to be let out and?—
Vale’s head hurt.
Too much. It was too much.
Graves steadied Vale with a hand against his shoulder, holding eye contact for the briefest of moments, but it was enough to remind the King he was not in this alone. Eyes of the deepest of blues burned with some weighty, unnamed emotion as Graves gave a subtle nod, pulling Vale closer to his side.
A sigh fell from him, but in the quiet loudness of the room, Vale could scarcely hear it—only feel it as it escaped his lips.
He looked to the others, all standing tall and firm, not cowed by the pressing weight of heavy power, even if they all wanted to clap their hands over their ears and curl into a ball to make it all stop. They didn’t. They couldn’t.
For her, they would be vigilant.
Moonlight fell in soft, long beams against the floors, and Vale looked out toward the balcony. The moon was now at its peak. Midnight.
And under the cover of a cloudless, midnight sky in winter, everything changed.
So slowly, Vale might’ve missed if not for Azgorath’s sharp intake of air.
Luella’s hair… changed .
From the roots of her hair, curls of golden blonde turned to a soft, silky, startling white. As if her entire being was becoming leeched of all color, her skin grew slightly paler. It had already been close to sickly in appearance, but the faintest dots of freckles along her nose disappeared before their very eyes. As if a paintbrush was taken to her, changing things so subtly and slowly that you didn’t even realize it until you stepped back and saw the entire picture.
Her hair was wholly white, and her skin was soft and pure and pale as if lit from within by a moonlit glow. Many things were the same—her softened cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, those luscious lips that Vale wanted to eat up, the fan of dark lashes that cast shadows under her eyes, and the soft curve of her brow, a dark grey shade that framed her features perfectly.
Gods, she was resplendent.
The demon’s hand gripped Luella’s so fiercely Vale feared her bones would break under his unnatural strength.
Vale could only watch with rapturous awe as it all fell into place.
A glamor. They had been right.
The Princess was not a Solis fae…
He itched to touch, to feel her skin and see if that had been changed, too. Did it still have the same softness?
"White hair," Tharen breathed. The mage looked on the verge of passing out.
Bastian genuflected, palms resting on the surface of the bed. The tips of his fingers skimmed Luella’s elbows like he was afraid to touch. "Pale skin." His voice was barely audible.
Vale knew what manner of fae she was—they all did.
She just had to open those beautiful eyes to cement it.
"She’s magnificent." Vale couldn’t stop staring at her.
The light of the moon grew thinner, slipping down to the other side of the castle as it dipped past its peak. Slowly, it disappeared, then grew hidden from their view, leaving only the faintest light from the golden, flickering flames and the many stars that speckled the inky night sky.
The air was still, and it was quiet.
And they all crowded around her, waiting.
Vale sat heavily on the edge of the bed, taking her in as he swallowed. "Look at her. Feel her. You feel it?" The call in his soul was ever-present but stronger as if a blanket draped atop it had been removed. "Will she feel us, too?"
Graves kept a hand on Vale’s shoulder, staring down at Luella. "I hope," he mumbled. "And I hope it drives her mad."
"Madder than she drove us," Tharen teased softly.
A smirk played upon the King’s lips. Yes, madder than that call drove them. He hoped it would gnaw at her, not let her get any sleep. Then, she would see what sort of agony they had lived in for the past centuries as they waited for her.
Azgorath’s head suddenly shot up. "Her fingers twitched." His voice was awed; he hadn’t let her hand go the entire time.
Vale was jealous at the show of intimate weakness—to rely on someone like that, he couldn’t imagine it.
He studied Luella’s face, waiting for any sign she would awaken.
"Open your eyes," Vale murmured.
Graves’s fingers dug into Vale’s shoulder, but he did not say another word as they all waited.
Bastian inhaled sharply, fingers moving across the bed to rest on her stomach, right over the space below her breasts. His palm flattened, and his eyes closed, following that tether between them.
Touch .
Vale startled. His dragon had been silent since the change. But now, he felt only a sharp desire to touch her. A need unlike any other.
His hands shook as he reached out, placing a hesitant palm against the side of her neck. She felt cool, similar to Bastian. Not as cold as the vampire’s skin, of course, but still with a chill that was different from before. His hand skimmed up before he finally caressed her soft cheek.
Still soft.
She felt the same. She was still soft and enticing.
Like his touch went past the barrier of her skin and burrowed deep into her mind, Vale watched Luella’s brows furrow, a tiny line between them as her features scrunched up. The corner of her mouth twitched. Her eyes moved behind her lids.
And then, she opened her eyes.
Irises of deep, vibrant blue sleepily took him in.
Vale’s face was the first that Luella saw, and he was indescribably pleased by that.
She blinked slowly, features pinching in what looked like discomfort as she shifted.
"What—" Luella croaked. It was barely a sound, scratchy and low. Her pretty, pink tongue ran along her lips, wetting them as she tried again. "What happened?"
Azgorath lifted her hand to his lips and pressed tiny butterfly kisses along the back of it. "Lu," he breathed.
Luella looked at him, head lazily twisting on the pillow as he met his gaze. "Az?" she quietly asked. "What happened?"
It was then that she took them all in, beautiful, big, and vibrant eyes of blue meeting each and every gaze in the room, regarding how they all stood around her. With every passing moment, her features grew more concerned.
She lifted a shaky hand to her head, fingers skimming over the strands of pure white—just out of her sight.
Tharen watched her unflinchingly, eyes burning with heat; she could only hold his piercing blue gaze for so long before she looked away. Graves gave her a promising half-smile, the scar on his lip tugging, and she lifted her other hand to settle on the one Bastian had pressed to her stomach, holding him to her.
Lastly, she met Vale’s eyes, and he made himself stay still at the sight of the unfamiliar blue. It would take time to get used to that.
And while Luella looked at Vale, his palm still cupping her cheek as they took each other in, he could only utter one damning proclamation that spoke of the change that had befallen her: "You’re a Luna fae."