61. Farewells and New Beginnings
Farewells and New Beginnings
Sel dravira en ti. Niv valen, niv asra, niv loyeth. El atanen en ti. Vah serané.
The words echoed in my mind, fragments of Xül's chanting lingering in the space between sleep and wakefulness.
He'd repeated the phrase three times while his hands had traced patterns across my back, his touch reverent and purposeful.
Words I didn't understand but that seemed to burn themselves into my skin and memory alike.
They'd felt like a prayer. And his mouth had definitely been worshiping me hours before.
I stretched beneath silk sheets that felt cool against my skin, memories of the night before washing over me.
The desperate way we'd clung to each other after deciding that this is what we wanted.
The whispered confessions in the darkness.
The way his eyes had held mine as he'd said those three words that had changed everything.
I love you.
A dull thump pulled me from my reverie. I blinked away sleep to find Xül with his back to me, shoulders rigid, attention focused on something on the floor. When I moved to sit up, I froze at the sight of a small puddle of blood near his feet.
"Xül?"
He turned at my voice, his face softening at the sight of me. I noticed his hand had been hastily bandaged with what looked like a strip torn from one of his shirts.
"Good morning, starling," he said, moving toward me. "I didn't mean to wake you."
I shifted to the edge of the bed and reached for his hand, which he gave without hesitation.
"That's a lot of blood," I murmured, examining the wrapping.
"I was careless, just a knick," he said dismissively.
The bandage was already soaking through with crimson, far too much blood for a simple accident.
"Since when does the Prince of Death get careless?" I challenged, raising an eyebrow.
A hint of that familiar arrogance returned to his features. "Perhaps I was distracted thinking about last night," he countered, voice dropping to that dangerous velvet tone that made my skin tingle. "You have that effect on me, Morvaren."
"A papercut did that?" I pressed, unwilling to be diverted by his charm.
His eyes flicked away for just a moment before meeting mine again, his expression shifting to the imperious mask I knew so well.
"We have more important things to worry about today than a small cut, starling.
The Forging awaits. Your ascension awaits.
" He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear.
"And I await the pleasure of calling you a goddess. "
The deflection was obvious, but the intensity in his eyes made it clear the subject was closed—for now.
"Lyralei and the rest of your team will be here shortly," he said, his voice soft. "They'll prepare you for the ceremony."
I stepped into a robe, tying it loosely at my waist. Xül's eyes tracked the movement .
"If you keep looking at me like that, Lyralei and her team will be waiting a very long time," I warned, though I couldn't keep the smile from my voice.
"They can wait," he growled, stalking toward me. "I'm still the Prince of this domain."
I pressed a hand against his chest, stopping him just inches away. "And what about your lover? Does she bend to your will too?"
A dangerous smile spread across his face. "You've never bent to anyone's will in your life, Thais Morvaren. I’d hardly expect you to start now. It is, perhaps, one of your finer qualities."
"Is that so?" I teased, my heart fluttering at the words still so new between us.
"I could list the others," he murmured, leaning down until his lips nearly brushed mine. "But even immortality isn't long enough for that particular recitation."
He studied my face for a moment, then relaxed. "You know," I said, remembering something. "Lyralei mentioned to me once about how there are some in the realm who don't agree with the old ways." I watched him carefully. "And the Dreamweavers follow Syrena?—"
"Thais," Xül cut me off. "You can't talk about what you know with anyone."
His voice dropped to a whisper, breath warm against my ear. "It's only spoken of in certain places, with specific company. We shouldn't even be discussing it now."
His hand gripped my upper arm, just tight enough to emphasize his point.
"There's a reason it's remained a secret for this long.
We're careful." His eyes locked with mine, intense and unwavering.
"Besides, even if you're on the right track about whose loyalties lie with us, no one knows that you're aware the resistance even exists.
We're going to keep it that way, for now. "
I nodded, understanding the weight of his warning. This was the most dangerous secret in the divine realm—one that could get us both destroyed if the wrong ears heard even a whisper of it .
"I just want to be prepared," I said quietly. "For what comes after."
"After," he repeated. "It won’t be easy. But we’ll get through it."
"When have I ever wanted easy?" I challenged.
His eyes gleamed with approval. "You make a valid point. You did, after all, make the conscious decision to try and take down the King of Gods. Reckless, and moronic. But your decision-making is something we can certainly work on."
"Don't forget falling in love with the most insufferable immortal in all the domains," I added dryly.
"Insufferable?" He raised an eyebrow, his lip quirking. "I believe the word you're looking for is irresistible."
"Arrogant," I corrected.
"Confident," he countered, his hand sliding around my waist.
"Domineering."
"Strategic."
I laughed despite myself. "This is why no one can stand you, you know."
"And yet here you are," he murmured, his expression smug. "Standing me quite well, from what I recall of last night."
The certainty in his voice should have been comforting, but a cold knot of fear formed in my stomach. "That's if I survive the Forging."
His arms tightened around me. "You will."
"You don't know that," I said. "Contestants have died. What if we've made all these plans and I don't even make it through the day?"
"You will not die today," he said, and his conviction was eerie. His hand moved to my back, tracing the same pattern from this morning, right where he'd chanted those strange words.
"How can you be so sure?" I asked, searching his face.
For a brief moment, curiosity flickered across his eyes before he masked it. "Because I know you, Thais Morvaren. And you're too stubborn to die now, when you've finally gotten everything you wanted."
He kissed me then, fierce and possessive, as if trying to brand himself onto me before we were separated. When he finally pulled away, we were both breathless.
"I should go," I said reluctantly.
"I'll see you before the ceremony," he promised, stealing one last quick kiss before stepping back. "I'll be the one looking like I'm about to commit several acts of treason for a woman."
I laughed despite the tension. "Very specific look."
Then he ushered me toward the door. His hand lingered on mine for one last moment before letting go.
I stepped into my chambers and I was engulfed in a whirlwind of activity.
Lyralei and her team had taken over the space completely, transforming it from Draknavor's usual austere darkness into a riot of color and light.
Fabrics in every shade imaginable draped across furniture, and countless jars and bottles lined hastily assembled tables.
I could only wear one gown, but they'd brought over twenty, each more breathtaking than the last.
"There she is!" Novalie exclaimed, rushing forward with a brush already in hand. "We were beginning to think you'd forgotten your own forging day."
"As if anyone could forget becoming a god," Vesper drawled, critically examining a bolt of fabric. "Though I suppose stranger things have happened. Once, a contestant nearly missed his own ceremony—passed out drunk in Chronos. He didn't survive the Forging."
Lyralei shot him a warning look. "That's hardly appropriate conversation for today."
"What? It's true." Vesper held the fabric against my frame, head tilted in consideration. "Besides, our Thais appreciates honesty. Don't you, darling?"
"More than you know," I replied, allowing myself to be guided to a chair where Novalie immediately began working on my hair .
For the next hour, I surrendered to their hands, letting them transform me piece by piece. The familiar ritual was almost comforting—one last remnant of normalcy before everything changed forever.
"You seem different today," Lyralei commented as she fastened a delicate silver chain around my neck. "Lighter somehow."
"Do I?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Her eyes studied me. "Yes. What have you done?"
I remained silent, but I could feel the flush climbing up my cheeks.
"Is that a blush, I spy?" Novalie crowed. "Our little contestant has secrets."
"Everyone has secrets," Vesper said with a smirk. "Some are just more delicious than others."
I forced my face into one of neutrality. This relationship between Xül and I needed to remain unknown for now, and I couldn’t have my own godsdamned face betraying me.
"Oh, we didn’t mean to offend you, dear," Novalie chided, tapping my shoulder. "You're at the finish line. Save the brooding for your first century."
"She's right," Vesper agreed, finally settling on a fabric. "Everyone needs at least a few decades of bad decisions and regrets before they find their footing. It's practically a divine tradition."
His words made me smile, thinking of the future that might await me—await us. A century with Xül. A thousand years. Forever. A world where I got to live and Olinthar got to die.
The gown they finally selected was neither dark like Draknavor nor blindingly bright like Sundralis—instead, it captured the in-between moment of dusk, when the first stars appear but daylight hasn't fully faded.
"Perfect," Lyralei declared, stepping back to admire their work. "A goddess in truth, even before the ceremony."
Novalie clapped her hands in delight.