Chapter 49
Alora
For a moment, Alora didn’t recognize where she was. The heavy, velvet curtains were drawn against the morning. A fire in the corner hearth burned low, casting a soft orange glow that flickered across the polished floor of a bedroom she didn’t recognize.
But she relaxed when finding herself held in Rune’s arms. He was stretched out on the large bed beside her, shadows clinging to his silhouette like he’d been shaped from the night.
His faraway gaze was fixed on the fire with a tense, pensive expression. Those crimson irises were unusually dimmed either from exhaustion or the heavy thoughts weighing on his mind.
“Rune…” she called softly. “Do you not sleep at all?”
His eyes flicked to hers and he smiled faintly. “You did. That is all I care about. How are you feeling?”
Alora took a moment to consider it. Her body no longer ached, only a hollow ache lingered in her veins where her magic had been stripped. Her most recent memories had returned, but she could not remember her mother’s face.
Her throat tightened but she pushed the sorrow away.
“I am fine,” Alora murmured. Her gaze lowered, finding him fully dressed and in different clothes from last night. She pouted. “You said you wouldn’t go anywhere.”
“I stepped out for a minute.” Rune tucked a loose curl behind her ear, a faint smirk on his mouth. “Seeing as I don’t sleep, I made use of my time and expanded this little cottage of yours to befit a queen.”
Alora sat up, looking around the unfamiliar space.
The room was large and refined. She now lay in a beautiful four poster bed in its own chamber, hearth in the corner and large windows on both walls, through the curtains were drawn closed.
Beside bed were gilded glass doors that piqued her interest.
Alora peeked past the curtains and found a terrace coated in ivy with a view of the pond below. “Cottage?” she mused. “You turned it into a manor.”
“As you deserve.” Rune drew her back into bed.
The main door was beautifully carved with a familiar mountainside. But beyond it lingered the hum of voices.
“Who else is here?” she asked.
“Calla and a few other… acquaintances I rather not entertain. Shall I send them away?”
Alora searched Rune’s eyes, seeing past the playful pretense. “What’s wrong?”
“Why do you assume something is wrong?”
She frowned. “You’re too quiet.”
“Am I not allowed?” He tilted his head curiously but his faint smile wavered.
“You’re never quiet unless you’re scheming.” Alora sat up. “And you closed off the bond. You’re hiding something.”
Rune’s smile deepened.
“I scheme many things, shadow darling,” he replied in that idle tone that she’d come to recognize as deflecting. “I thought you might like the extra space, as I assumed you would want your friend and brother to stay with you.”
Alora gasped softly, looking at the door. “They are here?”
“They wait in your new sitting room. But take a moment to replenish your strength first.”
Rising, Rune nodded to a silver tray from her bedside table. He fluffed her pillows first before setting the tray on her lap. It held a bowl of porridge topped with berries, walnuts, and a drizzle of honey. It was accompanied by a cup of tea, steaming and fragrant.
“I prepared this for you,” Rune proclaimed. At her arched brow he added, “Calla helped.”
“How did you convince Calla into helping you make tea?” Alora asked as she lifted a spoon. It trembled in her hand, showing how weak she was.
“I command, and she obeys. It’s the way of things.” Rune gently took the spoon and sat on the bed beside her. “Here, let me.”
“Rune, I can feed myself.”
He scooped up some porridge and brought it to her lips. “Eat.”
She glowered. “You enjoy giving commands, don’t you?”
“More so when they’re heeded. Now, can I tend to my stubborn wife, or must she fight me on this, too?”
The question made her cheeks warm. She tried not to squirm as the King of the Netherworld fed her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
But he was so comically large, his sharp black armor so out of place in her soft pink room that it made her smile.
He allowed her to drink tea without help but watched her movements carefully, ready in case she dropped it.
Alora studied Rune in turn, not used to this quiet, tender side of him. But something heavy lingered in the air, a nuance she couldn’t read. His pale complexion looked a touch more gray than usual. And his eyes didn’t quite meet hers either.
She set her teacup down, making it rattle lightly against the tray. “Rune, what happened last night…after?”
After he saved her.
There was a short pause, his gaze on the near empty bowl in his clawed hand. “The Harbingers took care of all matters in your father’s castle. Argyle has reclaimed its sovereignty. Calveron is no more.”
No more…
She stared up at him.
Rune fed her the last of the porridge. “They have crossed the Gates. Every single one.”
Her heart pounded at the thought, her mind flashing with images of bloodshed in the dining room. Alora banished the memory away.
She gasped. “My brother!”
“We found him,” Rune assured her.
Her heart settled at the news. Though, Rihan was her cousin, Alora could only think of him as her brother.
“The prince is safe,” Rune continued. “As is his mother, for now. But she stands accused of treason for her collusion with Calveron. Caelum has rallied the Lords of Argyle on your behalf. They will denounce Delphi and acknowledge you as Regent. Their loyalty will depend on whether they live to see the future… or fade with the past.”
Alora stared at him, wondering when he had time to organize all of this. More so that her kingdom was free and hers if she wished it. “You threatened the lords into accepting your terms?”
Rune shrugged. “They agreed without complaint. Whether from fear or reverence, it’s difficult to tell.”
Of course it was out of fear. She still remembered how they reacted when the God of Shadows appeared at her wedding to take her away. But after what she witnessed in the dining hall…
Her stomach churned as she recalled the gore and screams. What had happened to the rest of the Calverons? And Prince Eldrik?
Alora couldn’t bring herself to ask but she already knew.
Their deaths had been terrible ones.
Rune took the tray away and she sat on the edge of her bed, watching him.
Then, without hesitation, he knelt beside her. One knee pressed to the floor, cloak pooled behind him like fresh blood. A dark rage simmered in the bond.
Rune looked up, and his voice was shadow and fire. “While you slept, your enemies were dealt with, Alora. Swiftly. Whatever remains of them now feeds the crows. Be it a lesson to all.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “A lesson?”
“A reminder,” he said, his clawed hand delicately caressing her cheek. “That you belong to me. I will do all within my power to annihilate anyone who threatens what is mine.”
Alora stared at him, heart pounding. A shimmer of magic rippled through the air around them and she shivered. Not out of fear, but from the depth of it.
His third and final vow.
A god’s promise.
It was clear then, without question, how much he truly cared for her. She heard it in his voice as much as she saw it in his eyes and in every action he took for her sake.
Alora stroked her fingers along his jaw. He shut his eyes, leaning into her touch. Shadows lifted off his silhouette, his features sharpened, fangs pressing against his lips. His brow furrowed as if in pain … from her touch.
He murmured against her palm, quieter still. “I won’t allow the Fates to take you from me again…”
Alora stared at him, breath catching. “When did they take me from you?” she whispered.
Rune’s expression changed, realizing he made a mistake. He stood and like that, it was gone. The warmth. The tenderness. The ache in his eyes. Gone like smoke curling back into shadow.
Rune turned away, cloak sweeping behind him like the closing of a curtain, putting distance between them with calculated ease.
Like the space was necessary. He was keeping something from her.
Many things. And each one was hidden behind a mask he refused to lower, even around her.
Desperation bubbled up her throat, sensing him pulling away again as he had all the other times before.
Alora wanted to scream. Why couldn’t he simply be honest with her?
His eyes met hers, shadow and sorrow carved into every line of his face. Like it hurt to be near her. Then he turned from her, and that said more than any truth he wasn’t yet ready to share.
She always sensed Rune’s lies, even the ones he did not speak aloud. But this was the first time she felt the burning truth.
They had a past.
A painful one she couldn’t remember and one he couldn’t share.
Rune lifted a dirty knapsack from behind a corner chair. Dark red stains marked the front, but what had her attention was the bright glowing light streaming from beneath the flap. He set it on the table, drawing out a glass jar containing her magic.
Rune gazed at it, his eyes almost hypnotized by the glowing strands. He turned away from it.
“This belongs to you,” he said. “Siphoning power is one thing but returning it is another. Not a subject I am familiar with, but my archives will have answers. Deimos is already in the catacombs, researching the arcana. We will find a way to return it to you.”
Alora rubbed her cold arms. She didn’t know if she wanted her magic returned. All of this started because of whatever dark power she’d inherited.
“This is divine magic,” Rune murmured. “The light you inherited from the Mortal God through your mother. If Eldrik had known what other power you carry in your veins, he might have given pause to his actions.”
But now that Alora thought of it, there had been a moment where it seemed Eldrik did know.
What if the siphoning had meant to take both sides of her magic but he had been interrupted?
Sighing, Alora pushed the thought aside. “I should get dressed. The others are waiting.”