48. CHAPTER 48
“ZANE!”
Six figures broke from the far archway, their footsteps echoing on the stone as they moved closer. Aeliana reached him first, her golden-blonde hair whipping loose from her braid as she slammed into him with enough force to jostle me back a step.
“Finally!” She laughed, breathless. “Do you know how boring this place has been without you?”
Zane actually staggered, catching her with a grunt, smiling faintly. “Aeliana…” His eyes flicked toward me, steady, proud. “Meet Auri.”
Aeliana’s gaze cut sharply to me, and for a heartbeat, the world stilled. Her eyes were so much like Zane’s—they narrowed, then widened. The realization hit her who I was.
“It’s her.”
My mouth went dry. “Hi.”
Aeliana stepped closer, studying my face like she’d known me all her life. “You found her before you turned old and crusty. And she’s just as beautiful as Auntie said.”
I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks—thankfully, they were already red from the cold. Before I could find words, the others piled in.
Theodora, tall and poised in her haste, folded her arms but smiled warmly. “So, you finally brought her home. About time.”
Arkin, broad-shouldered and grinning, elbowed Zane hard enough to make me wince. “She’s real. Gods, I thought you and Auntie were bullshitting us.”
“Arkin,” Zane warned, though his mouth twitched .
Helena, all sharp eyes and restless energy, circled me like she was already sizing me for sparring lessons. “She doesn’t look like she’d put up with your brooding.”
“I don’t,” I said before I could stop myself. Helena barked out a laugh.
Adrian, gangly but quick with a boyish grin, gave me a dramatic bow. “Welcome to the madhouse.”
Elizabeth, the smallest, peeked around her siblings, wide-eyed and clutching the hem of Theodora’s coat. “She’s pretty,” she whispered, shy as a bird.
My face burned. I had no idea what to say to any of them, their energy sweeping me up before I could catch my balance. And then the crowd shifted.
The air seemed to change—sharper, heavier—as the duke and duchess stepped into the courtyard.
The duke of the Veil of Vultures, Zane’s father, was as imposing as the palace itself, his black cloak edged in silver, his pale eyes cutting through the chaos with a single sweep.
Beside him, the Duchess moved with quiet grace, her dark hair streaked with silver, her expression softer but no less commanding.
Zane definitely favored his father, while his mother had been beautiful beyond words, but I could see where Zane got his attractive stoic features.
The siblings all turned toward him, their smiles dimming a little, like they were also unsure of how this would go.
Zane’s hand pressed against the small of my back. “He’s really amazing, past his eyes of death,” he murmured down the bond.
My heart was racing, knees weak—as the duke’s gaze settled right on me.
Every fear and worry ran through my mind like a toddler on sugar.
How would he react to my name? Would he know who I was?
Would blame be given instantly? Zane’s anger was triggered when the pieces finally fell into place.
Gods, this could end so fucking poorly. I felt my panic rising, the weight of his gaze pressing like stone.
For half a heartbeat, my breath was lost .
“Breathe, Auri… your anxiety is overwhelming me, and I am not close,” Esme said.
Suddenly, training—and instinct—took over.
I stepped forward, dipping low into a bow, my braid sliding over my shoulder. “Duke Braegon. Duchess.” My voice steady though my knees trembled.
Silence stretched.
When I dared to lift my eyes, the duke of the Veil of Vultures had been studying me with that pale, merciless stare I’d come to dread at the college. But there was something different now—not cold calculation, but something quieter.
“Rise, young lady,” he said. His voice had been deep, commanding, but there had been no edge to it. “No need for formality here. You are welcome.”
The knot in my chest loosened just a fraction. I straightened slowly, my pulse hammering in my ears.
The Duchess stepped forward, her presence softer but no less powerful. She reached out, taking my hand between hers, her eyes warm in a way that startled me.
“Zane’s Anam Cara,” she said, the words carrying like a blessing. “We have waited for you far longer than you realize. This is your home as much as his.”
Heat pricked the back of my eyes, unexpected and sharp. Gods, I hadn’t known how much I needed to hear that until the words wrapped around me. Zane’s hand brushed mine again, grounding, steady. The bond thrummed with quiet pride, with relief.
“Father. Mother. This is Auri—Auriella Blackcreek.”
I braced myself—for questions, for narrowed eyes, for disbelief.
But none of that came.
The duke inclined his head, expression as implacable as stone. “Hello, Auri.”
I blinked, waiting for the other foot to drop. “Hi!” It was all I could get out .
The siblings shifted behind us, grinning like this had been the most ordinary thing in the world, as though bringing home a soulmate had been no more remarkable than bringing home a friend. My pulse was still a storm, but for the first time, I hadn’t been sure if I was afraid—or simply overwhelmed.
The courtyard was still buzzing with the siblings’ chatter—Helena already asking if I could spar, Arkin trying to convince me that he and Zane once flew off the roof of the armory on a bet, Elizabeth tugging at my sleeve like she wanted me to follow her.
The duke lifted his hand, and the noise died instantly.
“You all overwhelm her,” he said, his voice low but leaving no room for argument. His pale eyes swept the six of them. “Go. Give your brother space.”
They hesitated—only for a breath—then scattered like a flock of birds, some throwing quick smiles back at me as they went.
When the last of their footsteps faded, the Duchess turned to Zane, her hand still warm on mine. “Show her around, give her the ins and outs like it’s hers too.” Her gaze flicked toward me, kind and steady. “And see her settled in her chamber.”
Zane hadn’t flinched. His hand was still holding mine tightly. “She’ll be with me, in my room.”
The words hung heavy in the winter air.
The Duchess’s brows lifted, and for a heartbeat, I thought she might object. The duke’s pale eyes narrowed slightly, weighing the words, the bond, the meaning.
But neither spoke against it.
At last, the duke inclined his head. “So be it.”
The Duchess’s mouth curved into the faintest smile. “It seems the choice is already made.”
Heat flushed up my neck, and I dropped my gaze, my pulse roaring. I wanted to vanish into the stones themselves. But Zane’s bond pulsed warm and steady, an anchor against the storm.
He guided me forward, past the guards and through the marble French doors, his hand firmly holding mine, like he never wanted to let go.
Inside the palace, the air felt thicker, every hall echoing with weight and history.
I wasn’t just stepping into Zane’s world anymore. I was stepping into his life.
The palace swallowed us as soon as we went through the doors, its vaulted ceilings rising higher than I expected, the corridors echoing with every footstep. Zane walked steadily at my side, his voice low and calm as he pointed things out.
“That hall leads to the old armory. Still in use, though mostly for drills now. The eastern wing holds the archives—endless shelves of dust and secrets. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the temple where the statue of the seven Gods are.
It’s carved from a single block of obsidian, older than the palace itself. ”
I swallowed, overwhelmed by the scale, by the history pressing in from every wall. “That sounds… terrifying and beautiful.”
“You’ll see,” he promised, his mouth curving faintly.
We turned another corner, climbing a staircase lined with heavy tapestries. He led me down a quieter hall, away from the bustle of maids and guards, until we reached a set of carved double doors.
His chambers.
When he pushed them open, I froze.
It hadn’t been the size that stopped me—though the room was vast, lined with shelves and maps, a hearth already lit with a low fire. It was what hung over the mantel.
The painting.
My own face looked back at me from the canvas—softer, but undeniably me. My long blond braid, the tilt of my emerald eyes, the set of my jaw—every detail captured by a hand that didn't know me.
My chest tightened, my breath catching in my throat. Although Zane told me it existed, seeing it was different. Seeing me in this room, painted years before I’d ever stepped inside, was like standing on the edge of something endless .
“I told you,” he said softly. “It is undeniably you, and like you, it is a beauty.”
I couldn’t speak. I could only stare at the girl in the painting, at the ghost of myself that lived in his world long before I arrived.
I tore my eyes from the painting at last, my chest still tight, my throat aching with things I didn’t know how to say.
Zane drew me closer, his hand warm at the small of my back. “I know it’s all overwhelming,” he murmured. “Just… be here. With me.”
The fire crackled low, throwing soft light across the chamber. The weight of the day pressed down all at once—the flight, the mountains, Landon’s death, the palace, his family, that painting. My body felt heavy, like the stone walls themselves seeped into my bones.
“I don’t think I am ready to mingle,” I admitted, my voice small.
“You don’t have to,” Zane said. “Not yet.”
He led me toward the wide bed draped in dark furs, the smell of cedar clinging to the heavy blankets. I hadn’t protested when he pulled me down beside him, his arms wrapping firm around me, anchoring me in the storm.
My back pressed to his chest, just as it had every night I’d fallen asleep in his arms, his breath steady against my hair. The bond between us hummed, warm and sure, tugging the knots loose in my chest.