Chapter Sixty-Nine
Reign
Breath returned to me like breaking through the surface of a dark, endless sea. It was sudden and agonizing. For a moment, all had been quiet. Peaceful.
Now, the world was too bright. Too loud. Too alive.
But she was there. My Aelia. My cuoré.
Her face hovered above mine, streaked with soot and tears, radiant even in the chaos of battle. Her hands cupped my face like she was afraid I might vanish.
“You came for me,” I whispered again, voice hoarse, like I’d swallowed smoke and ash.
She nodded, a sob catching in her throat. “Of course I did, professor. You think you get to die, not only breaking your promise but also leaving me to deal with all of this?”
I managed a raspy chuckle, lifting a shaking hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. “You could have handled it without me.”
“Reign—” Her voice cracked. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“I promise,” I murmured. “No more dying.”
Her lips crashed into mine with wild desperation, and I kissed her back like I was still fighting for my life. Because maybe I was. Because she was my life.
And somehow, against every rule of death and gods and fate, we’d won.
When we finally pulled apart, I let my head drop back against the scorched earth with a groan. “Okay, I might need a minute to recover before the next battle.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “You just severed a binding power of the gods and died. I think you’ve earned a rest. We both have.”
A shadow passed over us, and then I heard a familiar voice.
“Oh, thank the goddess you’re back,” Symon murmured. “I never could have borne the burden of consoling your grief-stricken cuoré if you’d died.”
Aelia rolled her eyes without looking up. “Really, Sy? You’re going to make this about you?”
Rue chimed in next. “Professor, I told him you were much too stubborn to ever stay dead.”
“You’re not wrong,” I muttered.
Symon released a dramatic sigh. “Next time, can we maybe not die in the middle of a war? It’s bad for morale.”
A chorus of groans and chuckles rose around us.
I cracked one eye open to see the rest of Flare Team, along with Ruhl, Gideon, and Kaelith gathering around. Every single one of them was bloodied, bruised, and exhausted, but alive. And now they were smiling. Even Kaelith looked pleased. Or, at least, less angry and brooding than usual.
And beyond our circle, the fighting had stopped.
“You lot are a mess,” I rasped, pushing myself into a sitting position. “I see I need to double your training efforts.”
Ruhl stepped forward, expression tight. But his voice was gruff with something more than relief as he squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again, Reign.”
“I wasn’t exactly trying to die, brother.”
He crossed his arms, but I could see the crack in his usual armor. “Well, next time, try harder not to. With Father gone, you can’t leave me before the Ritual of the Shadow Throne begins.”
I reached up, and he grasped my forearm in a warrior’s grip, hauling me off the ground. The rare softness in his eyes said more than words.
Then Phantom landed with a bone-shaking thud behind me, Solanthus following close behind. Their eyes locked on mine, relieved, furious and overjoyed all at once.
You scared me. Phantom snapped through our bond.
Welcome back, Night Prince. Sol dipped his head. I’m pleased you did not die. For Aelia’s sake, of course.
“I missed you both too,” I muttered aloud, grinning like a fool.
Aelia tugged my hand, pulling it to her heart. “We’re finally going to be okay now. We won.”
I looked around at our ragtag family, then at the ashes of kings and broken chains of power.
Then at our dragons, the soldiers, Light, Shadow and Night, and their torn banners waving in the wind.
Some Night Fae fled, others were too wounded to move, but the ones that were able to, turned their weary gazes to Aelia and dropped to their knees in a wave.
A ripple of gasps vibrated the air from the Light and Shadow lines.
“Princess Aelia of Inferna! Princess Aelia! Long live the future queen!”
The chants grew louder with each iteration as the Night Fae bowed down before her.
It was really over. I drew in a steadying breath before replying to Aelia. “I think, princess, for the first time in a long time, we just might be more than okay.”
The great gilded gates of the Hall of Glory creaked open with a sigh, like the very alabaster stones of the academy exhaled at our return.
Dust swirled through the shafts of late afternoon light that spilled from stained glass windows. The Conservatory was silent, eerily so. No bells, no laughter, no clattering footsteps on marble floors. Just quiet and still.
Aelia’s fingers still curled around mine as we stepped into the main hall, crossing through the Veil of Judgement, our footsteps echoing throughout the hallowed space. It was hard to believe this place had once been filled with life, with rais, with memory. With her.
“It feels smaller now, somehow,” she whispered.
I glanced around at the sweeping arches, the vaulted ceilings. “Or maybe we’ve just grown bigger.”
She smiled faintly at that, but her grip tightened. “It doesn’t feel quite like home anymore.”
I understood what she meant. The war had stripped so much from us, our innocence, certainty, peace, but this place held ghosts of who we were before all of it.
“Come on,” she said suddenly, tugging me toward the east wing.
“Where are we going?”
“My dormitory of course,” she answered over her shoulder, a mischievous lilt in her voice.
That made me blink. “Do you think I still have access?”
“Only one way to find out.” She flashed a grin. “Either way, I’m sure the wards are too exhausted to stop us.”
The corridors narrowed. I knew this hallway well. I’d stalked it too many times in the early days, broken and sullen, trying to avoid the powerless little Kin with starlight in her eyes and a spark in her smile.
Aelia stopped in front of a familiar door and pushed it open.
Her room was just as I remembered it: soft light filtering in through gauzy curtains, the faint scent of lavender clinging to the air, vines curling around her bed in the corner.
We stood there for a moment, not speaking.
Then I broke the silence, my thoughts spinning with all there was for us to do in the coming weeks. “The thrones are empty. Three courts with no rulers. There will be questions. Power vacuums. We’ll need to—”
She turned and pressed her lips to mine. They were soft and certain but mostly silencing.
When she pulled back, her voice was quiet. “Not tonight. Please.”
“Aelia…”
“Just for tonight,” she said, taking my face in her hands. “Can we pretend it’s the beginning again? That I’m just your powerless new student and you’re the brooding professor who keeps finding excuses to arrange private training lessons?”
A grin curled my lips, my heart pumping faster.
She stepped in closer, fingers curling into the collar of my tunic. “Pretend that I snuck you in for a forbidden rendezvous. That this is all a scandal waiting to be uncovered. That nothing else exists outside this room but you and me.”
I let out a shaky breath, resting my forehead against hers. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Her voice was a whisper now. “Because I don’t want to think about thrones or crowns or what comes next right now. I just want this. Us.”
I kissed her again. Slow, deep, and unhurried this time.
“Then let’s pretend, starlight,” I murmured against her lips. “For as long as you want.”
And in that quiet dorm room, tucked away at the edge of the academy, I let the world fade. Let the weight of war, of gods, and of sacrifice fall away. Just a professor and his star-streaked student, tangled in something forbidden and beautiful.
For one night, it was enough.