Chapter 45
T he heart is our strongest organ, but as fate would have it, it is also our most indefensible. It wasn’t Dusaro’s chest that was pierced by those arrows, but it was his heart that killed him all the same.
Lord Kilbreth allowed his life to be governed by his hatred for transcendents. Perhaps a part of him always knew he would one day die in the jowls of a shifter. Because in the end, it wasn’t the arrows that slashed him open. It was the maw of his Mate, she who had a spirit as wild and tumultuous as their savage love.
My own Mate has tended to me so gingerly these past several days. I didn’t require much healing after the battle finally concluded, having mostly mended myself during the fight with the satiating amounts of blood magic circulating my system. But my bones did need resetting by Anika, which she did while I was unconscious, thank the goddess, and I later asked her to remove the scar on my chest from where the dagger pierced it. It wasn’t that I didn’t care to see it, but I knew it would forever be a reminder to Sin that he had been the one to thrust it into my heart.
The last few days have been a blur. After collapsing in Torin’s cabin, Sin rowed us both back to the isle, and I didn’t wake again until the following day, back inside our tent with Eldridge and Ileana stationed outside of it. They sent for Sin, and I will never forget the relief that glistened in his eyes as he stormed through the tent, took me in his arms, and held me for several long minutes.
We made love before either of us spoke. Neither of us able to manage words, but instead communicating everything we couldn’t voice with our bodies connected, slowly and deeply. When we returned to the castle, I stayed in our chambers for a couple more days, allowing the feral magic to fully simmer out of my veins before chancing too many interactions with anyone outside my immediate family.
Adelphia’s magic did not last. Sin told me he felt her presence leave him the same moment I collapsed in his arms, her blessing vanishing as my own power overcame me.
He offered to stay at my side several times, but I always sent him away with a promise that all I needed was some good rest. Our people needed him out there with them, not cooped up in our bedchamber. He has duties to tend to, just as I will after my coronation tomorrow morning. This castle is in desperate need of some feminine influence, and I am overjoyed to be sharing my crowning with a woman that is perhaps more deserving of her diadem than all of us.
Ileana is a born queen. While she won’t be a queen by title, she will be our isle’s ambassador. A face for the crowds to trust, and a spirit that will never yield in her advocacy for them. Sin and I may rule as king and queen figureheads, but it will be Ileana that coaxes the most organic of cheers from our kingdom, a mundane leader that does not merely have a seat at the table, but a voice . And a godsdamned strong one at that.
Alistair was in grave condition after being moved from the beach but was able to use the stolen blood in his system to sustain his heartbeats until Aeverie got her hands on him, which she did immediately after leaving Sin and me on the cliff. As soon as he recovered, Sin sent him to serve directly under Sera’s eye, who he appointed as his spymaster, with the condition that he train his appetite to only crave the blood he’s been assigned to reap.
Sera’s experience has more than qualified her for the position, but I know it’s not the only reason my Mate appointed her. A peace offering. For now, anyway. Her new role will take her to the farthest edges of the isle, and to lands across the sea, while still maintaining communications with her son. It will allow them to connect with physical distance between them, something that I think will be needed for both of them for a while. Perhaps that distance will close, month by month and year by year, but for now, it is a seedling of hope. And if anyone is able to keep Alistair in line, it is Sin’s mother, the shifter that single-handedly conspired against the two most powerful men on the isle and rallied an entire army to stand against their dominion.
But before we declare the beginning of a new kingdom, we must first put the previous one to rest.
I study Sin as he adjusts the clasps of his long, black coat in the mirror. His hair is pulled into a thick bun on top of his head, his jacket is perfectly pressed, and his posture every bit the noble king. But no amount of royal appearance can disguise the air of sorrow that clings to him.
I walk to him then, wrapping both hands around his waist and pressing my cheek to his back. A moment endures, then his hands come down on top of mine. And when he turns to face me, I loop my arms under his and pull him against me, holding him to my chest.
Losing his father has been… complicated.
It’s not that he held any love for his father, but rather, I think it was because he never had a father worth loving that has made this all the harder for him to accept. Sin grew up with far more privilege than most ever do. Born into a royal family that provided him with fine clothes and meals, private tutors that earned him a well-rounded education, servants and coin and luxury beyond anything I’d ever known.
I had none of those things, but I did have a family that loved me with everything they had when my own parents could not. What we lacked in resources, we tripled in love and loyalty. And that is a trade I would choose every single time.
Sin had everything coin could buy, but he never felt the kind of love that I have. It was likely nursemaids that rocked his cradle, servants that bounced him when he wailed for hours, and I doubt that beautiful, dark-haired child was ever permitted to sleep in Dusaro’s quarters when he woke from nightmares of his mother being murdered in cold blood.
And as I hold him close, I know my Mate well enough to know it is not losing Lord Kilbreth that plagues him so. It is losing that sliver of hope that his father may one day resent his wrongdoings, drop to his knees and beg his son for forgiveness. It was having to witness his father, who betrayed him without remorse, give his life without a second’s hesitation to die in the place of the one he loved most.
In the end, it wasn’t his actions towards his son that Dusaro regretted most. It was his betrayal of Sera. And I know that cuts my husband deeper than any blade ever could.
“Are you ready?” I ask quietly.
He’s been fussing over his clasps for the last ten minutes, even though they were perfect to begin with. He leans forward and presses his forehead to mine, then nods after a moment.
With that, I take his hand and lead us to his father’s pyre.
When we step inside the tent, Sera is running a brush through Dusaro’s long hair. She glances at us, her face partially obscured by the netted veil pinned into her hair, then she reaches for the ties on the table next to her.
She begins to braid his hair, and something about that action pulls a saw-toothed exhale from Sin. I look to him and find his head tipped back slightly as he stares down at his mother, his jaw all hard lines and angles. Watching as she does something that Sin likely witnessed his father do for himself a thousand times. I reach for his hand and run my thumb across his knuckles.
“What can I do, Sera?” I ask. Because as rocky as Sin’s mother and my relationship has been, and will continue to be for a long while, I do not wish this kind of agony on anyone.
Her hands pause, and she swallows tightly, then gives a quick shake of her head and continues plaiting her Mate’s hair. And then she chokes out a half-hearted laugh as she offers an almost-smile to her love. “You always did want to be the center of attention, you bastard.”
I release Sin’s hand and walk to his mother, gently touching her shoulder. “He loved you very much.”
She nods, blinking rapidly as a tear leaks onto her cheek. “Yes. Yes, he did.”
When she finishes braiding his hair, she stands and runs a hand over the finely tailored clothes she dressed him in. She turns to Sin then, who still lingers behind us, and she walks to her son. Sera bows her head before him, then says, “Your father and I fought many of our own wars. You are like him in many of his best ways, but you are so different than him in his worst ones. I do not regret the serrated love he and I shared, but I am deeply remorseful for the pain it has caused you. It is my greatest hope that you may find it in your heart to forgive me one day. But if you don’t, I still find comfort in knowing you have the freedom to make that choice for yourself.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, then back to Sin. “Because you two were able to find the rose between your thorns, we are all free. Free to forgive, and free to loathe. Just do not allow the mistakes of my past shadow the joys of your future, Singard.”
Sin doesn’t look away from his mother for a long moment. He says nothing, but I know the dark mage well enough to know her words resonate with him. I see it in the way his jaw grows impossibly tight, not a single muscle daring to feather as he forces that mask he always wears whenever someone strikes a nerve with him.
When he does speak, it’s to ask her if she would like a moment alone.
She looks back to Dusaro for a minute, then declines, saying she is ready to proceed. Sin calls out to where the others wait, and Aldred and a few guards hurry into the tent a moment later. Sin sends one of them away, and instead walks to the front right arm of the stretcher and lifts it to his shoulder. Sera and I hold the tent coverings open, then follow them to where they lay Dusaro across the grating that is raised above an enormous pile of split wood and kindling.
I take Sin’s hand again as Sera reaches for the torch, but instead of placing the end in the flickering lantern, she turns and presents the tip to Sin. He offers her his other hand, igniting the torch with his own magic.
And then she presses it to the kindling.