Of Vows and War: Special Edition (The Coveted #3)

Prologue

I n a universe so vast—so all-encompassing—it was no surprise that world walkers were revered.

Perhaps that was why Asta felt so uncomfortably bored in her life. She had the ability to travel through galaxies, to learn—to thrive—to live. But Padon, who was funny and handsome and so very good with his tongue, did not have the curiosity that she did. Her sister and her father understood that deep desire to be more than a crown, but her mother sided with the holder of Death and Creation.

Yes, Stella understood what Asta did not. There was no satiating the curiosity that ran through her daughters’ veins. Which was why, when her husband desired to bring their daughters world-walking, Stella wished to say no. In the end, she allowed Sol to go, but forced Asta to stay. Asta was their heir, despite being younger. She and Padon had a wedding to plan and so much to learn. They did not have time to sightsee. Their place was on Shamay.

Asta would forever associate that moment with guilt, for this would be the last time she ever saw her father and sister. Stella would live with regrets rather than guilt, for she wished more than anything to have spent one more moment with her doting husband—her soul bond. She would give anything to kiss her oldest daughter’s forehead—to hold her tightly and remind her of her magnificence in times of doubt.

Decades would pass. Then centuries. Stella would search and search, but she would not find them. Her own world would suffer for her absence at first, though her tear-filled moments of presence were not much better.

One day, the empress would stumble upon a world unlike any other. This world, with its beautiful yellow sun and its immense magic, reminded her of her lost husband—of the curiosity she once sought to stifle. Stella would explore the world, finding she did not quite like the creatures that called themselves fae. Though they looked like her kind with their pointed ears and sharp features, they did not settle within her bones comfortably. Instead, their presence weighed heavy in her stomach, like a bad pastry. They were conceited and flamboyant, all things she and her family never were.

So she would search on, stumbling across a vast continent, one that held creatures with round ears and no magic in their veins. They were kind and happy, but more than that, they were eager to learn.

The holder of Sun and Moon would do something abhorrent in her daze. She would gift the short-lived creatures her essence. From the skies she would steal the magic of their nearly white sun and the shadowy moon, raining it down upon the entirety of the continent known as Eoforhild. Mortals, as the fae called them, fell to their knees in thanks. And soon they would call her goddess. Soon they would worship her.

Back on Shamay, Padon—a strong and almost simple creature—found himself stepping up. He knew one thing above all else, he would save them. There was no doubt in the male’s mind that he belonged on the throne, just as he was absolutely certain that he was meant to have Asta at his side. She was his equal, perhaps even his superior. She was his.

How wonderful they were together. Every morning he would awaken her with coffee and breakfast, with words of affirmation and love. He would slip beneath the blankets and rip screams from her mouth. Then he would rule with her in Stella’s absence during the day, sneaking peeks at her dazzling silver eyes and hair beneath their teal sun. At night, Padon would once more ravish her, consuming everything she offered. And as she closed her eyes from fatigue, he would whisper his love to her.

Their life was perfect.

Until it was not.

And maybe it was his own inability to see past that utter bliss he existed within that prevented him from noticing when Asta no longer returned his declarations of love. Nor did he catch on to her aloofness during the day. Even worse, Padon did not notice Asta’s misery.

As a certain pink-haired beauty would say, this was Padon’s greatest sin.