Chapter 13 #2

“We should arrive mid-morning at the city’s southern gate.

You revealed yourself as fae, but all our witnesses are dead now.

So, we still have that card up our sleeve.

We’ll disguise ourselves as commoners and meet with Lord Kendan’s loyal guards who are watching for us at the southern gate.

They’ll get us into Hekkelveld Castle safely.

Once we’re crowned, we’ll make a formal announcement.

With you as my wife, no one will be able to arrest you for treason.

As queen, you’ll have royal protection.”

I turn my hands over, study the lines in my palm. Caked now with dirt from grooming Myst. “When do I show them what I am?”

He digs in his bag for a hunk of bread, which he tears in half for me.

He pauses, considering this. “We’ll tell Folke first. That old bastard has seen it all—nothing flusters him.

Which means telling it to Ferra, too, as long as they aren’t on the outs again.

Then, we’ll reveal the truth to Lord Kendan, privately, and see how he reacts.

We’ll figure out how to get the populace to welcome the fae when they arrive on the Blood Moon. ”

I yawn, my eyelids so heavy they sit like bricks.

“Don’t worry about what happens when we reach Old Coros,” he says more tenderly. “Right now, you’re depleted. You can barely hold your head up.” He rolls back his sleeve. “You need to drink.”

I shake my head, Vale’s warning stabbing into me again. “I’m fine.”

“Little violet, I can hear your stomach louder than the crickets.”

I flick a piece of ash off my dress. True, the hunk of bread did almost nothing for my hunger. A few sips of pine needle tea aren’t going to slake the thirst inside me, either.

The last thing I want to do now is take from him, but I have no choice.

I kneel next to him, unbuttoning his tattered shirt, stained with soot and soil, and peel it off his body. My breath hitches at the sight of him in the moonlight—his body bare to the waist, skin damp with sweat and smeared with ash.

As I settle beside him, he reaches up with a tenderness that steals my breath, brushing a dirty strand of hair from my brow with the back of his fingers.

“Take it,” he murmurs, voice still rasping.

I lean in. My hand loosely circles his wrist as I bring his forearm to my lips and plant a soft kiss on the skin. His breath hitches—he’d expected the bite of pain. I run a line of tender kisses down his scarred forearm before finally easing my incisors into the flesh above his vein.

His warm blood floods my mouth. I swallow the iron taste, eyes fluttering as heat rolls through me.

My own silver blood responds to his like answering a song. My heartbeat quickens. The base of my belly roars.

Gods—has it always been this good?

I drink and drink, giving myself over to the flood of pleasure, the never-ending hunger.

Basten groans—a deep rumble that vibrates from his chest to mine. I can feel his gaze on me, heavy-lidded and dark, drinking in the sight of me as I suck at his wrist.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he says, almost to himself. “Hungry. Dangerous. Mine.”

His words jolt me out of my trance, and I pull back sharply, licking the last of his blood from my lips. Immediately, my hunger seizes control, demanding I return to that beautiful fountain of blood rolling down his wrist.

My hands shake—I can barely force myself to let go of his wrist.

Keep drinking keep drinking keep drinking.

“Sabine?” he asks, unsure.

I let him go, breathing hard, though it takes every ounce of my strength.

The wound on his wrist closes up seamlessly—except for that scar he’ll wear forever, the one that reads my name.

We stare at each other in the broken moonlight. Traces of soot line his face, but the bones beneath are strong. A king’s build. You didn’t hurt him, I reassure myself.

“It’s…getting harder to stop,” I admit, voice breaking.

He stares at me.

He pulls in a deep breath, tilting his head to draw in my scent, just like I did with Myst. Searching beyond the facade of brimfire smoke for something sweeter, more familiar.

Then, he kisses me. The rasp of his stubble rubs my jaw, anchoring me in the here and now—this moment. I slide my arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. His hand finds the small of my back, and I shift my hips until I’m in his lap, straddling him.

His thumb slides my sleeve off my shoulder, and he lays kisses on the curve of my skin.

I lean into his touch like a cat, not realizing how starved I was for this connection between us.

For days, there’s been a…distance. His other hand fumbles on my skirt, bunching it up around my waist. As he undoes his pants, I coil my fingers in the hair at his nape and press kisses on that throbbing vein in his corded neck.

His skin still holds the sun’s earlier warmth. I only realize now how much I’ve missed that, too. Warmth in the veins. I’ve felt so cold for weeks.

He takes me slowly tonight. Rocking his hips in measured, steady thrusts. I hold onto his shoulders and move with him, letting my head fall back and my eyes sink closed. Like we’re on a boat together, rocking in the Panopis Sea.

Our desire builds and breaks together—at least in this, we are in sync. After the climax, Basten holds me in his strong arms, his head resting on my shoulder.

There’s so much to say.

About the changes happening inside my body. My mind, too. Woudix’s words keep circling my head, about how I’m only play-acting at being human.

We have Rian to find and bring to justice—whether at the end of a sword or in a cell.

We have his ruined Lunden Valley to heal.

We have fae to tame.

We have humans to lead.

We have a fragile peace to maintain before the kingdom shatters into war.

But right now, all I want in the world is to stay in Basten’s arms, in this old sheep barn in a forgotten corner of the world, where no one cares what sparks at my fingers, whose blood flows in his veins.

Eventually, I pull back, running my fingers over his face.

“I worship at your feet, too, you know,” I speak as quietly as a prayer.

“You say that you’d burn the world for me.

For you, I’d gather the ashes, shape them into something beautiful.

Remake the world anew—just for you. One where your shoulder never aches, your hands never bruise, and you’re honored as the king I know you are. ”

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