Chapter 52 Maybe, Peace
~ DIADRE ~
Dawn rose on a palace in which all golden eyed vermin had been executed, and a city that was being instructed to resist, bow the knee to Melek, and learn a new life—or die. I’d stopped fighting an hour earlier and been looking for Jann ever since.
I finally found him on the ramparts, staring down at the city streets. It was one of the last places I looked, because I hadn’t wanted to come back up here after everything that had happened. But somehow, I’d known.
Jann stood, leaning on the stone rampart walls, watching the streets below. The shouts and rings of battle still rose in the city—so many Neph refused to give up their hedonistic, violent ways. Which meant they had to be killed, but were fewer, while our allies grew.
We would win.
It was the time to celebrate. To hold each other. To eat and refresh and satisfy. The worst of the battle had passed. It was time to remind ourselves we were alive, and to thank God that it was true. But none of that reflected in my mate’s expression.
His eagle eyes followed movement below. His jaw tense, shoulders tight, as he braced against the stone.
The morning sun glowed gold and peach, setting off the sparks in his light hair, and warming his already tan skin. He’d thrown off his cloak somewhere. He stood in shirtsleeves and a leather vest, trousers and boots.
It took me a moment to realize why the picture seemed off.
He wasn’t armed.
I didn’t think I’d ever seen Jann without at least a blade.
Watching him, unmoving, his expression heavy, my heart swelled. He was safe. I was safe. We’d made it. Our baby had made it. Though, now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I could feel my body turning limp, and my stomach beginning to churn again.
I was going to pay for this long night. But it would be worth it.
Wouldn’t it?
“How’s Gall? And… Melek?” Jann asked softly, as if we’d already been in conversation.
I swallowed. “Both safe. Gall won’t let go of Istral at all—but she doesn’t seem to mind. As for Melek… he’s just Melek. Yilan’s pretending she knew he would be safe and she’s not bothered, but I know her. She’ll crack soon, when she’s really sure everyone’s safe.”
Jann nodded, but didn’t turn. He still hadn’t looked at me. “Caelan remained loyal. I saved her from two of the Council who’d come for me when they heard what I did to the others. They found her instead. She already had a knife in one…”
I walked slowly to his side and leaned against his shoulder, looking down to follow his gaze. “That’s good. I’m… I’m glad. But… how are you?”
He grunted, but didn’t answer.
I swallowed. “Jann, this is good. All of it. This is what we were fighting for. And you helped us get here.”
“Yeah, it’s great,” he said flatly. “Perfect, almost.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment, then I felt him shudder and I turned, hugging him, even though he still leaned on the ramparts. “Melek knows, and he forgave you, and you fought—we trust you, Jann. We all know—”
“No. You don’t,” he said darkly. I went still, ear pressed to his side, listening to that low rumble of his voice in his broad chest. The most comforting sound in the world, usually.
A moment later, he straightened and turned to face me.
His warrior’s length was tangled and caught in his collar.
There were scrapes and bruises on his face, one thin slice on his cheek, and a mix of grime and blood smeared, where he’d wiped his face with his sleeve.
He looked ragged and exhausted and desperately sad.
Then I noticed— his eyes were green.
I sucked in a breath. “Jann—”
“I almost gave over,” he said hoarsely. “It was so close—”
“Yet you didn’t!”
“Still, I almost did, and… thank God Istral could heal Melek, but now we pay the price.”
“What price? Jann, we’re freeing the Neph. The only ones surviving this are those who’ve turned. Valgorath will become a safe place for women and—”
“I’ll never be free of the curse, Dee,” he rasped.
“That’s the choice I had to make. I had to decide that it was better to die with my soul intact, than to live under that fucker’s rule.
I killed as many of those pricks that would hurt you as I could, but…
when our son is born… I’ll have a very few years.
Maybe only months—” His voice cracked, and his face crumpled.
His eyes—his beautiful green eyes—reddened, shining with tears he fought.
And his body told the story of the struggle.
He trembled and stared at me with those eyes, full of pleading and grief.
“I wanted to do this with you,” he whispered.
“I wanted to know what it was like to have a family, and love, and…”
He slumped.
There was nothing I could do but gather him in, and hold him, and pray. Beg God to break this curse—if it really existed—because no one else had the power to free him.
~ YILAN ~
I walked out of the royal bedchamber, where Istral and Gall were curled on the bed together, finally calm and sleeping, and closed the door softly.
“I think they’ll rest now. Did you put the guards in place to—” I cut off as I turned from the door.
Melek sat in one of the large chairs near the cold hearth. Legs spread and feet planted on the carpet. Arms falling off the sides. His head craned, neck bent over the chair back, and mouth open. Deeply asleep.
I didn’t move for a moment, just took in the sight of him—that bold, massive body, so vulnerable in sleep.
His shirt was torn and bloodied. His leathers speckled with dark stains from his kills—and his own blood. That made me shudder—and quickly shut my mind to those horrendous memories of the moments when I’d felt him draining away.
Even the thought made my skin cold. Suddenly, needing the reassurance, I hurried quietly across the room to his side, and crawled into his lap. Melek startled at my touch—but even as his head snapped up, he wrapped those thick arms around me, and pulled me into his chest.
I kissed the V of skin above where his shirt buttoned, then nestled into him, pressing my nose under his jaw and sighing when he stroked my hair with a hand big enough to span my skull.
“How are they?” he asked in a deep gravel.
“We need to stay close,” I murmured. “They’re sleeping. But if they wake up, they might need reassurance that it’s all over.”
Melek nodded. “Gall often struggles with dreams. Let’s rest while they do.” He slid deeper into the chair, holding me to him, and his breathing immediately grew slower.
“Melek, we need to bathe and—”
“We will,” he muttered. “Just resting my eyes for a minute…”
He was gone.
For a moment, I battled. We’d just waged war. We needed to get clean, check injuries and get them tended. Melek in particular should be laying in a bed that was big enough and…
I sighed.
I didn’t want to move, either. There was nothing I needed more right now, than to lay on his chest and feel him breathe. Feel the warmth of his skin, and the flutter of his breath in my hair.
There was no better guard against bad dreams, than laying in his arms and waking there.
So, I let my weight slump, as I snuggled into my mate’s embrace—and I smiled.
The world had almost gone to hell. We still had a lot of fighting to do, but for now, our family was safe. Our people were rising. And our enemies had lost.
So much was still uncertain, but I was sure of that. They had lost. Furthermore, this nation—our nation—would rebuild under the leadership of my incredible mate.
I was still stunned when I thought of those moments—the way he gave himself to Gall. The self-sacrifice, and his forgiveness for Jann. The compassion. It brought tears to my eyes.
I stroked his broad chest. His body was a weapon, and he was capable of destruction. Instead, he turned that strength to protection. Now, two nations—an entire continent—would discover how incredible he was.
“The Nephilim didn’t deserve you,” I whispered. “You’re amazing.”
“I’ll remind you of that next time I piss you off,” he graveled without opening his eyes.
I snorted. “I said they didn’t deserve you. I earned you five times over,” I teased, smiling when he squeezed me tightly, as he shifted to a more comfortable position in the chair and pulled me harder against him—but still didn’t open his eyes.
“Yes, you did,” he rumbled.
I thought that would be it, and was beginning to let myself drift into sleep when he spoke again.
“They gained a reluctant king, and an indomitable queen. They better be fucking grateful,” he muttered.
I started to laugh. At some point, it became tears.
My reluctant king only held me tighter, and reminded me that we were in this together, and no matter what came, we’d meet it, side by side.
And he was right.
Thank you, God.