Chapter Forty-Five
Aelia
“After all this time, who knew you were a real prince?” I smirked up at Reign from the silky sheets of our bed, allowing the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek soothe the turmoil of the past few weeks.
Pale moonlight cast through his dark hair, streaking it in strands of shimmering silver as he glanced down at me.
He snorted on a laugh, leisurely running his fingers through my locks as if we had all the time in the world.
“I’m no prince, starlight. As it turns out, I’m the forgotten heir of a usurped throne. ”
Clucking my tongue, I moved on top of him, meeting him square in the eyes and trying my damnedest to ignore the way his naked body reacted to my own.
“A throne that rightly belonged to your grandfather and that Helroth stole.” I shrugged.
“Besides, I’ve got two already, I’m more than happy to give you one. ”
A deep chuckle, warm and true—something I’d gone far too long without hearing—rumbled through his chest, vibrating against my own. “How kind of you to offer me the key to one of our kingdoms.”
“It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.” I grinned before pressing my lips to his parted ones. “My love, my cuoré.”
“You know,” he mumbled against my mouth, “that my desire to kill Helroth has nothing to do with claiming the Court of Infernal Night’s throne, right?”
I pulled back with a frustrated sigh, my entire body humming from the faint brush of our lips. “Of course I do.”
“Good.” His arms encircled my waist, pressing me flush against the length of his unyielding frame.
Once more trying to focus on something other than the firm, muscled body beneath me, I asked, “How do you feel about all of it? In all the commotion, the preparations for battle, we haven’t had a moment to discuss the revelations.”
Reign hissed out a slow breath between his teeth. “I’m afraid it’s more than I care to handle at the moment. Right now, my main concern is you, then ridding the realm of Helroth. Everything else can wait.”
A heavy silence descended between us for a long moment. The weight of the realms, of our choices, sometimes seemed too much to bear.
“I love you,” I finally breathed before claiming his lips once more. There was so much more to discuss—the Moirai Shard, the elephant in the room that both of us refused to speak of. Breaking the blood vow would come at too steep of a price, I was certain of it.
And where would that leave us?
Still at the merciless hands of Tenebris.
But I decided now wasn’t the time to fixate on that. Tonight, I was the one in need of forgetting, because in two short days, we’d go to war, and I feared nothing would ever be the same.
“Make love to me,” I whispered.
His breath hitched. It was a quiet sound, but I felt it everywhere. In the tightening of his arms, in the stillness of his body beneath mine, in the soft tremor of the cuorem echoing against my own heart.
“Aelia…” My name left his lips like a prayer and a curse all at once, reverent and raw.
“I need to feel something that isn’t war,” I murmured, fingers trailing down his chest. “Something that isn’t death or prophecy or gods’ damned sacrifice.”
His hands slid up my back, slow and reverent, like he was trying to memorize every curve, every piece of me he’d fought so hard to keep. “You are everything I feel,” he said, voice rough and thick with emotion. “You are the only thing that’s ever felt real.”
The tears that stung my eyes weren’t from sadness, but from the unbearable weight of love. Of hope. Of the fragile, precious thing we held between us.
He rolled us gently, reversing our positions until he hovered over me, dark hair falling in a silken veil around our faces. The stars watched in silence through the tall windows, and for a moment, it felt as if the whole realm had paused just for us.
“I will never let anything take you from me,” he whispered, brushing his lips against my brow, then down to the hollow of my throat. “Not Helroth. Not Tenebris. Not fate.”
My fingers gripped his shoulders, anchoring myself to the only certainty I had left. “Then show me,” I breathed. “Show me we’re still us. That no one can steal this away despite all we must still overcome.”
And he did.
His hips fit perfectly between my thighs as he lined himself up against my entrance.
A gasp parted my lips at the heady sensations.
I burned for him, every inch of my body begging to be closer, to be one.
He thrust into me with a desperate grace, like he’d been searching his whole life for the place he belonged, and he’d found it…
in me. As we moved against each other, we were two halves finally made whole once again, destined to fit in the spaces only we could fill.
With every touch, every whispered word, he unraveled me. It was both tender and fierce at the same time. Shadows danced across our skin, not as weapons, but as worship, wrapping us in a cocoon of moonlit midnight.
There was no prophecy in that moment. No vow. No war.
Only love. Only us.
And when we finally shattered, together, trembling and breathless in each other’s arms, I clung to the hope that it would be enough.
Enough to survive the storm still coming. Enough to bring us back whole when it was all over.
Even if the Moirai demanded everything.
I woke before Reign began to stir, the ache of goodbye still echoing in my bones. Last night with my cuoré had been everything, simultaneously healing and grounding, but even love couldn’t stop the war from creeping in.
A restless energy surged through the barracks before training exercises began, Light and Shadow students and soldiers milling about, awaiting orders from the generals.
It had been decided that only a small force would accompany us to track down the Night King with the Ebonshard Compass.
We hoped, somehow, we could end this war before it began.
Perhaps, we were foolish.
Perhaps, we were already too late.
The tension in the air was a living, breathing thing, pressing into every conversation, sharpening every glance.
I weaved between groups of warriors gathering their weapons and armor, giving encouraging smiles and words to both Light and Shadow, all while my thoughts drifted toward the Ebonshard Compass pulsing quietly in the war room.
If it worked and led us to Helroth without him seeing us coming, we might end this before it truly began. But that was a mighty if.
I turned a corner, almost walking into Liora who spun on her heel with a start at my approach, her vibrant green eyes just a bit too wide before she smoothed her expression.
She stood with Rue and Symon, the unlikely threesome whispering together, off to the side.
Something unreadable flashed across my best friend’s expression as she gave me a quick smile, but I couldn’t decipher it before Liora spoke, drawing my attention.
“Aelia,” she purred. “There you are. I was just asking if it’s true, are you really going after Helroth tomorrow?”
I blinked at the question, thrown by her sudden boldness. “Yes…” I replied slowly, watching the way her fingers twisted in the folds of her tunic. “Ruhl and the generals have agreed. We leave at dawn.”
Symon whistled low under his breath, arms crossed as he leaned back against a carved obsidian column. “About damn time.”
“I thought the goal was to train the Light and Shadow forces to fight together,” Liora said.
My brows drew together. “It still is. But we can’t delay any longer. Why?”
Her lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Just worried for you, that’s all. Facing Helroth sounds like a death sentence with such a small force, even with Reign by your side.
” Her voice held a strange undercurrent, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if it was concern or veiled mockery.
Before I could respond, Rue stepped forward and looped her arm through mine, a too-bright smile on her face. “Actually, I’m glad we ran into you. I was about to visit Heaton. He’s still not himself, but I thought maybe a friendly face might help.”
At the mention of Heaton, my stomach tightened. Guilt still clawed at me. I’d been so wrapped in war councils and Reign’s unraveling heritage that I hadn’t checked on him often since his return.
“Yes,” I blurted. “I would love to see him.”
Rue led us down the spiraling hall to the lower wing of the infirmary, where the air was thick with warding runes and the tang of herbs. The scent of blood and burn salves lingered beneath it all.
She gently pushed open the door, with Sy and, unfortunately, Liora, following behind as I stepped into the dim chamber.
Heaton lay on a narrow cot, his wrists bound loosely with lightwoven thread to prevent him from harming himself.
And others. His skin was pale, clammy, and a sheen of sweat coated his brow.
His lips moved faintly, whispering words I couldn’t hear.
“Still like this?” I whispered, my heart aching for my best friend and her brother.
Rue nodded. “He has good days and bad. Mostly bad. He doesn’t sleep. He talks about darkness, about voices in his head. The Night Court broke something in him.”
Symon moved to the other side of Heaton’s bed and crouched down, murmuring something low and comforting.
Liora, however, lingered by the door with her arms folded, and her gaze oddly blank.
Heaton stirred, his head shifting toward the sound of our voices. For a moment, I thought he’d drift back into unconsciousness. Instead, his eyes snapped open. The moment his gaze landed on Liora, the wild flicker in his eyes went cold. Deadly cold and, for the first time in a long time, lucid.
Everyone froze.
“Heaton?” I murmured, inching closer, scared to frighten him after our last encounter.
His whispers halted, cut off by a silence so thick I could hear my own pulse.
Then, in a voice clearer than I’d heard in weeks, Heaton muttered, “She doesn’t belong here.”
All eyes turned in his direction. But his gaze was locked on Liora. “She walks in light, but she was born in darkness. A child of moonless blood. A liar. A traitor.”
The words hit like a thunderclap.
Rue gasped, and the blood iced over in my veins.
Liora’s face didn’t change. Not even a twitch. “That’s enough,” she said lightly, stepping closer. “Poor Heaton. He gets worse by the day, doesn’t he?”
“He sees truth,” Heaton hissed, straining against his bonds. “She carries shade in her veins. Night Fae. She’s one of them.”
My thoughts flickered back to Heaton’s last outburst weeks ago, when he’d lunged at me. He’d called me infantum od twilit. He may have been confused and frantic, but he hadn’t been wrong. I was the child of twilight. I was everything he’d claimed.
“Stop it,” Liora said, with a laugh that sounded far too forced. “He’s clearly not in his right mind.”
Symon turned slowly to face her, his usual easy-going smile absent. “You’re not denying it.”
She blinked. “Of course, I am. Gods, Symon. Are we really going to take the word of a broken soldier?”
But there was a faint tremble in her hands.
I stepped forward, heart pounding. “Liora,” I said carefully, “is there something you want to tell us?”
She gave me a tight smile. “Only that your enemies are getting cleverer. They know how to twist even the most loyal minds into saying exactly what will tear you apart.” And with that, she turned on her heel and swept from the room.
Could Helroth or some other Night Fae have skulked into Heaton’s mind to sow the seeds of doubt and break us from within?
I stared after her, unease coiling in my chest like a snake.
Was Heaton delusional? Or had he just seen something the rest of us had missed?
Rue touched my arm, drawing my attention. “I told you. There’s always been something off about her…”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, unable to take my eyes from the spot the female had just vacated. “But I intend to find out.”
Because if Liora truly was one of them, and she’d been in our midst all this time, then Helroth wasn’t just watching from afar.
He’d been here all along.