19. Chapter 19
nineteen
B rielle
The soft rhythm of the horse’s hooves was like a heartbeat as we made our way back, a cadence both familiar and unsettling as we moved through the twisting shadows of the maze. With each mile, the walls seemed to shift, as if echoing Thorne’s will. He shifted the walls, making our journey home shorter. He was undoing the darkness Nyria had laced through the maze, her curse now just a memory, fading like her cruel, fierce gaze as the life drained from her eyes. That memory should have haunted me. Instead, I felt a vicious satisfaction watching that fire die. But what did that make me?
It hasn’t been that long since everything has changed, and it all felt like a fever dream. I still couldn’t grasp it; this new role, this title. Queen. His queen. How could that even be real? The man at my back, the one I barely knew but felt tied to as if fate had whispered my name into his soul, seemed more familiar than any stranger should. I feel like I’m missing something; like this is all some cruel joke that I’m not in on.
As if he felt the spiral of my thoughts, his rough voice rumbled against me, shattering my reverie. “Don’t get lost in that head of yours, she-wolf,” he said, his breath warm on the back of my neck.
A smile tugged at my lips. “I’m not lost.”
The horse slowed to a stop as he shifted his weight, and his hand tightened on the reins. “Well, you must be, because since we started our journey back, you’ve been quiet; and your lips still haven’t found mine. I do think you’re lost.”
My pulse quickened, a rush of heat climbing up my cheeks. I hadn’t realized how distant I’d been, locked inside my own thoughts, trying to find my footing. “So… my lips not finding the path to yours makes me lost?”
“Indeed,” he said, his voice a teasing growl. “You’ve been wandering around in that head of yours, and you’ve lost your way.”
His words melted the walls I’d built around myself with an ease that should be criminal. I couldn’t hide my grin, a flutter awakening in my stomach. “Well, maybe I need someone to set me on the right path, then.”
In one smooth motion, he slid his hand up my neck to cup my jaw, pulling me back against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath me. “Then allow me,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto mine, his lips so close I could almost feel their warmth.
I closed my eyes, surrendering to the moment, letting the world fall away. But his lips never touched mine, lingering just a breath away. When I opened my eyes, his smirk, barely there, ignites a blush that I can feel burn right through me.
“What are you doing?” I huffed, feeling a mix of frustration and anticipation. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”
He chuckles, amused, “I said I’d help you find the path. I never promised to walk it for you.”
I swear, I want to push him right off of the horse. Instead I make a show of rolling my eyes and jerking my head from his hand. “Unbelievable. You’re—”
Before I can finish, he pulls me back to him and finally, his lips meet mine. The world tilts slightly, my breath catching as his mouth claims mine, deep and slow, a kiss that leaves nothing to chance. I feel every inch of it, every surge of heat and spark that passes between us. The horse shifts under us, grounding me just enough to remember we are not floating, though it feels like we were.
He pulls back, giving me a quick, final peck before resting his forehead against mine, his breath as uneven as mine. "Don't overthink this, Brielle. You're in control of everything, alright? Don’t get caught up in what you think should or shouldn’t be. Just..." he whispers, his voice rough and low. "Just be with me."
I smile and nod, unable to find the right words. He’s shattered and remade my world all at once. As I turn back to face forward, settling against him, he mutters, “Such a difficult little thing.”
The laugh that slips out of me feels like the first real breath I’ve taken in days, and with my hand resting on his, I know this is the path I’m meant to walk, even if every step with him feels like stepping into the unknown.
As we approach the castle, my breath catches in my throat. It looms ahead, dark and foreboding, its silhouette stark against the fading sky. Tall, narrow windows punctuate the fortress-like walls, and severe spires reach toward the heavens like sharp claws. It looks more like a monument to the shadows than a home, and yet there’s a certain magnificence to it. The horse slows, and the imposing front doors swing open to reveal a mix of staff waiting for us, some human, others with the heads of crows, their intelligent eyes watching us with silent respect.
Thorne leans in close, his warm breath tickling my ear. “Welcome home,” he murmurs, the words wrapping around me like a promise.
Home. The word jolts through me, dragging memories of my simple life back in town to the surface. How different that feels now, like a distant, faded dream. I’m still staring, struck by the sheer weight of it all, when he swings down from the horse and reaches up to help me. His hands are strong and warm as they guide me to the ground, steadying me. But the moment my feet touch the earth, a sudden thought pierces through me.
I gasp. “Henry.” His name bursts from my lips like a cry, the memory of that terrible day crashing into me. My eyes lock onto Thorne’s, desperate for an answer.
He pulls me closer, his arms circling me in that possessive way that somehow makes me feel both safe and breathless. “That’s the last time I’ll hear you shout another man’s name, she-wolf.” His eyes glint with an intense mix of humor and something darker. “The dog is alive. Inside. Unfortunately. Though I can’t say with certainty,” he drawls, smirking. “If the staff took pity on him, perhaps he’s been fed.”
“You kept him alive?” I breathe, shock and an odd sense of relief washing over me in equal measure.
His expression shifts to one of pained annoyance, exaggerated just enough to be comical. “Barely,” he sighs dramatically. “The thought of ending him crossed my mind hourly. Every second, actually.” He grins, but his eyes reveal a flicker of restraint. “It’s me you should pity, really. It’s been torture.” His theatrical grimace coaxes a smirk from me, despite the storm of emotions churning inside.
Then, without warning, he pulls me into a kiss, his lips urgent and consuming, the world blurring again until nothing else exists. When he finally pulls back, his voice is softer but firm. “He’s yours to deal with, Brielle. His fate is your decision. That’s why he’s still breathing.”
The weight of his words settles heavily on me. Henry—my past, my mistake, my guilt—lives only because Thorne left his fate in my hands. He’s giving me the chance to end it, to sever the last tie however I choose.
The thought of Henry alive and somewhere in this castle gnaws at me, Thorne’s words echoing in my mind. I should feel powerful, maybe even some grim satisfaction, knowing he’s at my mercy. But instead, dread and guilt twist deep in my chest. I bury the feeling as best I can, letting him lead me.
We step inside, and the shadows of the castle seem to close around us. Dark stone walls rise high, lined with deep red tapestries and carvings of wolves, crows, and other creatures that seem almost alive in the flickering torchlight. The air smells of cedar and smoke, heavy and ancient, mingling with the faint murmurs of staff moving about in near silence.
Some have the heads of crows, their dark feathers gleaming in the dim light, their sharp eyes following us as we pass. The human servants wear robes of rich, dark fabric, their faces softening with fleeting smiles as they glance my way.
The realization hits me like a blow; how quickly everything has changed. Not long ago, I felt like a nobody, invisible and insignificant. But now, standing beside him, I can feel the weight of their respect, even admiration, pressing around me. Warmth unfurls in my chest, unfamiliar and almost frightening in its intensity. I’ve never felt this accepted, wanted, or at home.
As we move through the shadowed corridors, his hand steady in mine, that warmth seeps deeper, curling into the corners of my being. For the first time in what feels like forever, I know I’ll feel safe tonight. I’ll share a bed with him, the man who brought me to this place. The thought nestles into my bones, a strange comfort that feels both foreign and welcome. But still, a quiet question stirs at the edge of my mind, will I truly be safe?
I steal a glance at his profile, etched in flickering torchlight. Doubt lingers, creeping in like a shadow I can’t shake. I’ve felt this way before, haven’t I? That fleeting warmth, that false sense of security, with someone who once cradled my heart so tenderly. Henry.
He wasn’t always the man I came to fear. In the beginning, he was sweet, thoughtful, careful with me in a way that felt like safety. Gentle words, small comforts—until that gentleness sharpened, twisted, and became something I barely survived. The memory claws at me, and I wonder if I’m walking the same dangerous path again. Could this warmth someday morph into something dark, something cruel?
Before the thought can take hold, his grip tightens slightly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a gesture so simple yet grounding. The doubt wavers, retreating under his touch. I look at him—this fierce, unyielding king who chose me. Not because he needed control or found me weak, but because he wanted me. And that truth, as alien as it feels, soothes an ache I hadn’t realized was there.
The hallway opens into a vast, breathtaking hall. Vaulted ceilings stretch above us, their heights reminiscent of a night sky, faintly illuminated by the soft glow of candles nestled in iron sconces. The floor gleams with black marble streaked with veins of silver, each step echoing through the space. At the far end, a massive hearth crackles with golden light, casting warmth and shadows that dance together across the room. A week ago, I was just trying to survive in a world that seemed determined to reject me. Now, I stand in the heart of his kingdom, his hand holding mine, my heart venturing into uncharted territory. And for the first time, I dare to hope that maybe—just maybe—I’ve found a place where I belong.
He stops before a pair of towering double doors, his sharp gaze softening as he turns to me. “The journey’s been long, and you’ve endured more than anyone should. What would you like first, Brielle? A bath? Food? Rest? Whatever you need, tell me.”
His voice was gentle, sincere, carrying a care I wasn’t used to. For a moment, my mind went blank, struggling to grasp the sensation of someone offering to take care of me instead of using me for their own gain. I found my voice, slow and unsure. “A bath… sounds nice.” I glanced down at myself, the grime from Nyria’s cells still clinging to me like a stain I couldn’t scrub away.
He smiled, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that sent a shiver through my chest. “A bath does sound lovely. As you wish.” He turned to one of the crow-headed servants, calling out, “Isthra, please take Brielle to my quarters and set up the bath.”
Isthra bowed deeply, her beady eyes softening as she extended a hooked arm in my direction.
I took her arm, casting a glance over my shoulder at him. His eyes gleamed, the smile on his lips wicked and full of promises. “See you soon,” he murmured before disappearing down another corridor.
As Isthra led me down the hallway, the silence was heavy, broken only by the faint rustle of her robes. There was an elegant darkness here, the walls draped in deep, textured tapestries, their intricate symbols hinting at a history I hadn’t yet begun to understand. Each shadow seemed alive, each corner teeming with mysteries I couldn’t begin to fathom. We eventually arrived at a smaller chamber, though “small” was a relative term. It was larger than any room I’d ever claimed as my own. The space glowed with warmth from a massive, intricately carved fireplace at one end. Its mantel was adorned with dark, polished stones, with a single striking feather resting atop them. The walls were a deep slate, silver sconces casting a soft, flickering light. In the center, surrounded by dark wood and velvet, stood a massive tub.
I sank into a plush purple velvet lounge in the corner of the room as Isthra began preparing the bath. It didn’t take long before the water was steaming, the fragrant vapor curling lazily into the cool air.
“I’ll leave you to undress, my lady,” Isthra said with a soft bow. “There are oils and soaps along the side.” With a final glance, she closed the door quietly behind her, leaving me alone in the hush of Thorne’s quarters.
I hesitated, taking in the room—its foreign elegance and the heavy presence of him. His scent of smoke and cedar lingered in the fabric and shadows, a reminder of his presence even in his absence. Slowly, I began to undress, the relief of shedding not just the dirt of the road but the weight of everything I had carried from Nyria’s prison.
The water is warm as I sink into it, a sigh of relief escaping as the heat works its way into my muscles, easing away the tension I didn’t even know I was carrying. The oils scent the water with sandalwood and something floral. For a moment, I let myself slip under the surface, the water cocooning me, washing away the remnants of pain and old memories.
When I surface, I rest against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, letting my mind drift. That’s when I felt it—his presence.
He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his lips. "Excuse me," I say, raising an eyebrow. "I didn’t invite you in."
His smile widens, amusement flickering in his gaze. "So bossy already," he murmurs, voice low and playful."Command me to leave, then."
A thrill runs through me, dark and exciting. This man has such an effect on me. "As if you’d listen. This is your castle, after all."
The spark in his eyes dims slightly, replaced with something deeper, more intense. "That’s where you’re wrong, my queen. This is as much yours as it is mine." He steps forward, his voice dropping to a growl that seems to shake the air. "And I would listen to your commands... unless it’s more fun to disobey them."
A slow heat spreads through me, but I play it cool, feigning indifference. "Men don’t take commands from their women. Queen or not."
His eyes never leave me, studying me with an intensity that’s almost tangible. "Command me to kill for you, and I will. I’ve done it before," he says, his voice raw, the truth of it sending a fire through me. "Tell me to get on my hands and knees and crawl to you right now, and I will."
I feel my pulse quicken at the image of him; this powerful man, kneeling before me. The thought heats me to my very core, but I hold his gaze, steadying myself. Finally, I breathe in and let the words out slowly on my breath. "Crawl to me."
His eyes darken, desire radiating off of him, as he slowly lowers himself. His hands splay against the stone floor in silent reverence, his movements dark and graceful. One knee hits the ground, then the other, his broad chest rising and falling as he steadies himself on his hands. Every movement feels like a surrender, as though he’s giving himself to the command I’ve issued, a submission I never fully believed he’d obey.
He crawls toward me, each inch bringing him closer, his head tilting slightly, as if to catch every shift in my expression, every flicker of my pulse. His hands trace the floor in a stalking way, as if he plans to devour me, his gaze trailing up my legs with a heated intensity that sends my mind reeling and my stomach fluttering. As he nears, his eyes roam over me, drinking in the sight of me submerged, droplets glistening on my skin. He reaches the edge of the tub, his breath shallow and heated, his eyes dark as he traces the contours of my face, my shoulders, lingering where water meets skin.
"Tell me what you want, my queen," he murmurs, his voice rough with barely contained need. The sound of his restraint makes my hips move slightly forward, responding to his need as if they are old friends. "Tell me how to serve you." His words are so foreign to me, I draw a slow breath, every nerve alive as he raises his hand to skim the water’s surface. His eyes burn with need, yet he kneels there, patient and unyielding, his gaze holding mine like a vow.
With my voice barely a whisper, I manage, "Touch me."
His lips curl slightly, a dark smile forming as he leans forward, his mouth just inches from my shoulder, his breaths shallow. He brings his hand to rest beside my knee, testing my reaction, his thumb skimming the edge of my skin beneath the water. He’s at my command, this king who wields entire kingdoms to his will, and yet here he kneels, his own will handed over to me.
His fingers slide slowly up the inside of my thigh, the water rippling softly with each touch. He’s patient, moving with steady purpose, his gaze locked on mine, dark and heated. There’s something in the way he looks at me, a promise, a quiet intensity, that makes my pulse quicken even more and my breath catch. His hand moves higher, brushing against that tender ache he knows I feel, taking his time as if savoring this moment as much as I am.
“You deserve this, Brielle,” he murmurs, his voice low, rich. “Everything you’ve been denied. Every single bit of pleasure you’ve been waiting for... it’s yours now.”
His fingers trace gentle circles around the sensitive bud he has found with such ease, the movement igniting waves of heat deep within me. Each brush of his touch draws me closer, my body melting into the warm water around me. I can feel myself unraveling, my control slipping with each precise touch. Every nerve comes alive under his hand, and I can’t hold back the soft moans that escape, breaths catching and releasing in time with his hand, guiding me, grounding me, unspooling everything I’ve held back for so long.
As the tension inside me builds, he leans close, his mouth at my ear, whispering, “Give in, Brielle. Don’t hold back.” His fingers press harder, urging me forward, and I can do nothing but obey. The release that follows leaves me breathless, gasping as my body arches, gripping the sides of the tub as waves of pleasure course through me, wave after wave, until I’m spent, sinking back against the porcelain.
Slowly, his hand withdraws, and he holds my gaze, dark satisfaction written across his face. He raises his fingers to his lips and tastes them, his eyes never leaving mine, as if savoring every bit of the pleasure he’s drawn out of me. The gesture leaves me warm, flushed, my mind spinning.
Before he rises, I reach for him, stopping him with a hand on his wrist. “What about you?” I ask, my voice still thick with the afterglow, tinged with an eagerness I hadn’t realized I was feeling.
He leans in, his lips so close they brush against my cheek as he speaks. “Soon, my queen. Very soon,” he murmurs, a hint of a promise in his voice, “You’ll have your turn to bring me to my knees again.”
With a final lingering look, he stands, his presence like a shadow I don’t want to lose. He leaves quietly, a parting smirk on his lips that feels like a dare, his words still hanging in the air around me, warm and electric, leaving me aching for the next promise he’ll make good on. The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone in the lingering warmth of the water, his presence still heavy in the room despite his absence. My heart is still pounding, my skin tingling, and my mind replays every touch, every word he whispered with that dark intensity that burned through me.
I lean back against the smooth edge of the tub, closing my eyes, letting myself sink deeper into the quiet, heady thrill he left me with. For so long, I'd been denied the feeling of being wanted, of being seen so completely. And now here he is—a man as dangerous as he is captivating—making it clear he’ll go to any length to pull me from the shadows I’ve been trapped in, to remind me of the power I hold even if it leaves him at my mercy. As the water stills around me, I find myself smiling, an unfamiliar warmth filling my chest. I should feel wary, maybe even afraid, yet somehow, in his hands, I’ve never felt safer. The shadows of my past still linger, yes, but they feel smaller here. Maybe, with him, I can start to reclaim what was taken from me. Maybe I can even begin to let down the walls I’ve held up for so long.
Tomorrow, I’ll face the weight of my new title, of the choices that lie ahead, and the lingering ghosts of my past. But for tonight, in this dark, quiet castle, I let myself sink into the comfort he left behind, allowing the warmth of this strange, intoxicating new world to envelop me.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally found a place where I belong.
With one last deep breath, I let the thoughts drift away and close my eyes, preparing for whatever awaits me beyond these doors.