Chapter Twenty-Eight
Fight the wolf. Wear its skin
Then face the one that waits within
Kael breathes deeply. No longer trapped behind glass. No longer clawing to the forefront of himself.
The Decay has receded, though it’s not gone. He can feel it there, buried deep in his bones, trying to lure him further inside himself to trap him below water again. And somehow that frightens him more. Monsters that retreat usually return hungrier.
He shakes the feeling from his mind, as if it’s nothing but a thought. As if it isn’t embedded into the very fabric of him.
Now, he pulls Elyssara into him, tucking her into his side, dragging slow, tender strokes through her hair as her cheek rests peacefully on his chest.
Be here. Be here. Be here.
Because every moment he spends happy now feels stolen from something waiting to destroy him.
He tries to force himself into the present.
To take in this scene in all its beauty—the woman he loves draped over his body, the safety of Rhaema’s bathhouse, the aftermath of bliss.
The steady sway of the candlelight lulls him into rest, steam softening the air, and they sink deeper into the furs, exhales lengthening.
But Elyssara isn’t fooled.
“I can hear you thinking from here, Kael,” she says softly, huffing a quiet laugh.
He grunts an agreement, a small smile quirking his lips. “The only time my mind has stilled was while you were riding me, my love. Perhaps that’s the antidote to all my troubles forevermore.”
Amusement threads his tone, and he waits for the reaction. For the playful swat, the snort of derision, the eye roll. But Elyssara swings her leg over him, straddling his hips, and pulling herself to a seat atop him.
Her naked form aglow in the golden wash of the candles. It snags on every curve, every dip.
Holy gods.
“An antidote I’ll gladly administer,” she purrs seductively, leaning forward to brush her lips over his. “As long as you do that thing with your fingers that I like,” she adds, her tone playful and light.
He pushes himself to sit, scooping his corded forearm around her lower back, pulling her chest flush to his. “What about the thing with my mouth—”
“KAEL.” Elyssara hisses through a laugh.
“Well, it’s good to see you two are making yourselves right at home,” a voice echoes through the cave, bouncing off the walls so they can’t escape it.
His eyes snap to the sound.
Rhaema.
“Fucking Stars, Rhae!” Kael snaps.
He nearly throws Elyssara off him in the scramble to cover them both, catching an elbow to the ribs for his effort.
Elyssara’s hand flies for a fur to wrap around herself.
“No point, love. I’ve seen it all,” Rhaema grunts, waving a hand dismissively. “Unfortunately,” she adds dryly. “Some things can never be unseen.”
Kael shakes his head in irritation.
Elyssara’s cheeks bloom red at the intrusion.
“I’m going to drown myself in this bathhouse,” Elyssara mutters under her breath.
Kael bites down a chuckle.
“I wouldn’t interrupt if I didn’t think it was worth it,” Rhaema says defensively, and that’s when he sees it.
A missive.
With the blood-red wax seal he’d know anywhere.
Rhaema stretches her arm out to hand over the missive, averting her gaze to give them a moment to cover themselves.
Kael swipes the missive, cracking the seal in one swift motion.
Elyssara swallows audibly.
But Kael inhales the words, barely letting them register. In an elegant hand that contrasts Maireth’s personality, he reads:
Welcome Home, King Kael.
Caeloria has missed the presence of the Corvannis family inside Azhareth Castle.
You’ll do me the honor of attending the Masked Ball at the castle tonight to commemorate your return home.
Bring your Starbound.
And a word of wisdom: Laryn, Kiva, and Rhaema were predictable choices.
Your Radiant Queen Maireth.
His blood turns to ice, a chill snaking up his spine and wrapping around his throat like a godsdamned noose.
“Well?” Rhaema snaps gruffly, but Kael notices the edge of desperation there.
“She knows we’re here—”
“Obviously, you daft boy. What else?” Rhaema condescends.
“She’s asked for our attendance at tonight’s Masked Ball at Azhareth Castle,” Kael says, but the words come out strained, raw.
Elyssara nods, taking in the information and trying to wield it into something they can use. A weapon.
But Rhaema’s impatient grumble cuts through the moment. “It’s not an invitation, Kael. She’s not asking—Maireth never does. It is a command.”
The words hang in the humid air like they might choke him.
Fuck.
They’ve been revealed too soon. Too easily.
Though it’s not surprising—Maireth has built a culture rewarded for surveilling their neighbors, their friends, their family.
Reporting their behaviors in exchange for the queen’s favor.
In a kingdom built on reward for obedience, it is almost impossible to stay hidden. Maireth deals favors as currency.
Or, in her words: comply or die.
“It’s okay,” Elyssara murmurs, mind whirring with ideas, strategies, tactics.
Kael can see it in the distant glaze in her eyes.
“We need to scope the castle, anyway. We need to loosen lips and have secrets spilled. We need confirmation of the Orbs in the vault. We need intel on security. We can get all of that by walking straight through the front gates,” she says, though her words still feel uncertain.
Rhaema sucks her teeth. “You don’t know Maireth, Elyssara. She’s ruthless. Built a dynasty on being ten steps ahead. There’s a reason you’re going tonight, and it’s got nothing to do with Kael’s bloodline.” She pauses, eyes boring into Elyssara with intensity. Then, “It’s about you.”
Elyssara’s breath catches in her throat.
“You’re not in control. You’ll go in with an agenda, but Maireth will already have ten others that you’ll never decipher,” Rhaema says gravely, her voice almost defeated.
Elyssara doesn’t speak. Just stares at the old woman—taking her in.
Kael growls in irritation. “Not fucking helping, Rhaema.”
Rhaema shrugs. “I’m preparing her, Kael. She needs to know what she’s walking into.”
Kael pinches the bridge of his nose, sucking in a long, sharp inhale. “Start planning our costumes, Rhae. El and I have plans to make that don’t include giving up.”
Rhaema spins on her heel, hobbling away with a cane in her left hand. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” she shouts over her shoulder.
But Kael knows nothing Rhaema says can possibly prepare Elyssara for what’s coming.
He turns to face her, but he doesn’t find defeat or fear. He finds fire. The kind of eyes a queen wears.
But behind the strong exterior, her words falter. “I feel like I’m being thrown to the wolves, Kael.”
He reaches for her, pulling her into his chest with a force that could rattle the Stars.
And his voice drops into an unwavering promise.
“No one is throwing you to the wolves, my love. You’ll walk into the wolf’s mouth by choice,” he growls, sucking in a ragged breath. “And you’ll leave wearing its skin.”
Gooseflesh ripples across her skin at his words, and resolve flickers down the tether.
Good.
She needs to walk unflinchingly. Defiant. Powerful.
Everything he already knows she is.
She tilts her chin up to meet his gaze, auburn hair framing her fierce face. “We need to walk in with a plan of our own,” she murmurs. “And I need to say what we both already know but won’t admit: we need to keep the Decay suppressed.”
He knows. Fuck, he knows it in the marrow of his bones.
“I need to know; what sets it off?” she asks, pulling back, brows furrowing in focus.
Everything.
“A few things,” he admits.
“Like…” she prompts.
So he says the only thing he knows for certain. “When you’re threatened.”
Heaviness descends on him, and Elyssara notices. Notices the way his shoulders drop.
So she smiles, a teasing smirk kicking up her lips, transforming the dark into light in a heartbeat. “Has anyone ever told you that you should work on your possessiveness?”
He huffs a laugh, letting the lightness take root. “Teddy has been on my ass about that for some time, yes.”
She chuckles, but she shakes the levity from her tone. “What else? We can’t have the Decay taking hold at the wrong time.”
She says the words like there’s a right time.
Kael sighs. “Any type of threat, really.”
Elyssara’s head quirks. “So all the time, then?” she quips.
“Pretty much,” he shrugs, letting a smile break free.
The banter is light, easy—a rare thing in the Known Realms—and Kael relishes it. Lets it slip beneath his skin and make a home, nestled into the depths of him.
But Elyssara burrows down in thought. “I have an idea…” she trails off. Her eyes snap to him. “It’s risky, though.”
He huffs a laugh. “Fucking breathing is risky here, El. What’s the idea?”
She wraps the furs tighter around her shoulders, clasping them in front of her chest to hold them in place. Her other hand finds its way to her mouth, worrying her bottom lip.
“I think we should use the Decay to our advantage.”
His eyes blow wide at the suggestion. “Consider me intrigued…”
“What if…” she begins, carefully considering her words as the plan comes to life in her mind’s eye.
“What if we don’t use the Masked Ball as a way to gather intelligence?
Maireth will expect that, surely. What if we find the Memory Orbs tonight?
Breach the vault. Leverage being in the castle invited. ”
It’s bold.
Kael takes it in. “And what of using the Decay to our advantage?”
“Well, it’s not like it’s going to behave all evening, so we may as well use it. It responds when you’re threatened—so let’s take out all the threats in one fell swoop.”
Holy fucking Stars.
“Turn the Decay on the ones we want out of the way,” she adds, dragging her finger across her throat in warning.
There it is.
The terrifying brilliance of Elyssara Dawnmere.
She doesn’t recoil from monsters. She weaponizes them.
The words linger, clinging to the walls like they want to stay.
“You’re absolutely fucking insane, El,” he murmurs, dragging a hand down his face, but his lips quirk up. Because he can’t ignore it; she’s also brilliant.