57. Rylan
57
RYLAN
T he grand hall hums with life.
Laughter, the clink of goblets, the sound of dark elven nobility whispering behind gilded masks.
They never expected this.
Never expected me to rise from the ashes.
Not after they buried my name, after they reduced me to nothing.
But now, they stand in my house.
Drinking my wine.
Bowing their heads as they acknowledge my power.
Tonight is mine.
And yet, somehow, none of it matters.
Even the wealth, the land, or the restoration of my family name.
She is the only thing I see.
Draped in black silk, the fabric a perfect contrast against her sun-kissed skin, her dark hair braided with silver threads.
She stands at my side, unaware of the storm brewing within me. Unaware that tonight will mark her as mine.
The celebration is in full force, nobles raising their glasses, offering their false words of admiration.
I don’t care for them.
I never have.
But I play the game because I know how to win.
Seraphina is quiet beside me.
She is never one for crowds, never one for the empty grandeur of nobility, but she endures.
For me.
And I see it.
The way she stands taller, shoulders squared, chin lifted.
She is no longer the human slave they would have ignored.
She is something else.
Something greater.
And soon, they will all know it.
I raise my goblet, cutting through the murmurs with a single gesture.
The room stills.
Anticipation crackles in the air.
Every eye turns to me, waiting.
I could say anything.
I could speak of victory, of power, of vengeance fulfilled.
“My people,” I begin, my voice carrying through the hall, rich with command. “There are those who would have seen me dead. Those who believed House Vranas was finished.”
A ripple of tension moves through the crowd.
I smirk. They never imagined that I’ll be standing here to raise my family’s flag, to once again, rebuild and bring glory to House Vranas.
Marchellion might not be my real father, and he had a hand in destroying my blood family, but… his house is the closest to belongingness I’ve ever had.
I made a promise to myself, and I must honor it.
“And yet, here we stand.”
Murmurs of approval. Goblets lifted.
But I am not finished.
I shift my gaze, locking onto her.
Seraphina’s sapphire eyes widen slightly as I reach for her hand.
I lace my fingers through hers, turning to the gathered nobility.
“I would not be here without this woman.”
A pause.
Sharp inhales.
Some curious. Some horrified.
I let them stew in it.
Let them choke on their assumptions.
“Seraphina,” I say, my voice softer now, just for her. “You are more than a survivor. More than a warrior. You are the reason I stand here today.”
Her lips part. Her breath catches.
Good.
I want her breathless.
I want her to know what comes next.
I release her hand—only to cup her jaw, my thumb brushing against her lower lip.
I turn back to the crowd, my voice like iron and fire.
“She is my mate.”
Silence.
A crack of ice in a frozen lake.
And then?—
The explosion.
Gasps. Murmurs. Disbelief rippling through the room like wildfire.
The noble lord Rylan Vranas, the newly risen power of the dark elf court, had just declared a human—his mate.
Seraphina’s eyes widen in shock.
There is no doubt in my mind.
She is mine.
And I am hers.
The nobility stare, whispering, scandalized.
Some of them, I’m sure, are already plotting.
Already thinking of ways to undo this.
But I do not care.
I have rebuilt my house.
I have secured my throne.
I have shattered the enemies that sought to destroy me.
And none of it—none of it—is more important than her.
Seraphina swallows hard, her eyes searching mine.
There is no hesitation in my gaze.
Only certainty.
Only want.
Only love.
Her lips tremble slightly, her hands clenching at her sides.
In a voice barely above a whisper, she answers.
“Yes.”
A single word.
A single, life-altering word.
The meaning of it crashes into me, stronger than the tide, stronger than any battle I’ve ever fought.
She chooses me.
Not because she has to.
But because she wants to.
I don’t give the crowd a chance to react.
I claim her.
My hand slides to the nape of her neck as I pull her forward, my mouth crashing into hers.
Gasps echo around us.
But I don’t care.
I devour her.
Her lips are soft and strong, and perfect.
I kiss her like a man who has fought death itself for this moment.
I have.
She melts into me, gripping the front of my tunic, pulling me closer.
I let her.
I drown in her.
When I pull away, she is breathless.
So am I.
The hall is in chaos.
But my voice is a blade that cuts through the noise.
“She is mine,” I declare, my gaze sweeping over the gathered nobility.
I let them feel it.
The power.
The finality.
I look down at Seraphina, brushing my knuckles against her cheek, softer now, intimate.
“And I would burn the world for her.”
She is the greatest treasure I have ever won.
There’s no way I’ll give up on her.