Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
And gods help him, he’s never wanted her more.
Because somewhere along the way, Elyssara stopped questioning her destiny and started feeling inevitable.
“Thank you,” she says with a wicked grin, accepting the remark as a compliment.
“You and the Decay can forge a clear path to the vaults, and when we get there—we shatter every last one of them,” she says through gritted teeth.
He nods. Slowly. Considering her plan.
He transforms in a heartbeat. Lover to warrior. Starbound to strategist. Man to monster.
And Elyssara rises to meet him like she was forged for war beside him.
“Exit strategies?” he asks, his tone clipped.
Elyssara adjusts from lover to queen. Her mind works quickly, finding solutions. “Plan A: Seren Gateways us out—we use the amulet. Plan B: we fight our way out.”
Kael nods, accepting the plans. “Weapons?”
Before Elyssara can answer, Rhaema’s voice echoes down the stairs.
“If you’re looking for your pretty little toys, don’t bother.”
Kael frowns.
“I checked the wall. Nothing.”
The old woman appears at the end of the narrow tunnel again, cane thumping against stone.
“Laryn likely collected them already.” Then, with a pointed look, she says, “Just as I am convinced the man has no wits, he proves me wrong.”
Then she disappears without another word.
Kael huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, so now what do we do for weapons?”
Elyssara quirks an eyebrow. She lifts her hands, allowing them to glow with Lightborne magic. “Really?” she asks good naturedly. “Between my magic, your magic, and the Decay? Steel would only get in the way.”
He huffs a laugh. “Good point.”
Kael’s eyes narrow, and he drags in a long, slow inhale.
“And if I turn on you?” He says the words like they’re nothing but another piece of logistics, but he feels them slice through his ribs like a blade sliding home.
Elyssara eyes him then, tucks her knees under herself, and leans into the presence of him.
“Then I will take your hand,” she says softly, gripping his wrist and pulling it toward her.
“And I will place it here.” She lets the furs fall from her shoulders, revealing her naked form to him, and pressing the full breadth of his palm against the bare flesh of her chest. “And I will stare into the eyes I fell in love with, and whisper the words that always call you home.”
Her heart thuds under his palm—alive, real, his. The rhythm calls to an ancient part inside of him. Not the Decay—the tether. The part that recognizes her as his before thought ever could.
“I will love you,” she breathes, forehead resting on his, her own palm splayed across his.
“From now until the Stars claim me,” Kael says in reply, voice gravelly and raw.
“In this life and the next,” Elyssara finishes. “And I know you will come back to me.”
She says it like fate itself has already decided.
Kael gives a small nod, accepting her words in earnest. But his heart thuds to a different tune, and asks the question: will he?
The Decay flickers to life deep in the pit of himself. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he is certain the Decay is laughing. Mocking him.
He pushes it down. “I will come back to you,” he vows, but the words taste wrong. Like he’s not the one in charge of making such promises. Like he realizes love and certainty are not the same thing.
Elyssara draws back, smiling at him.
“Then it is settled,” she announces. “We take back Dravara’s history tonight.”
Dravara’s history. Her kingdom. Her throne. Her people. Memories of it all.
That’s what tonight offers—a chance to remember the history of a kingdom, a royal lineage wiped from memory, a once-great nation given an opportunity to rise. To rebel.
Kael clears his throat. “Maireth is known for her elaborate performances and displays at events such as these. We wait for a distraction, and we slip into the halls.”
Elyssara nods once, her mind cataloging the moving parts, organizing it into neat, orderly plans. “I don’t suppose Laryn or Rhaema got us a map of the castle?” she says, sucking her teeth.
Kael flashes her an easy smile, “Where would the fun be in knowing exactly where to go, El?”
Fuck. He knows they need it, but he doesn’t want her faltering.
Her shoulders sag at the blow, but she rolls her eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Ronyn.”
Kael chuckles richly. “Not knowing anything is kind of our thing, El. You should know that better than anyone.”
She swats at his arm playfully, a soft sigh slipping from her throat.
Her head tips back in surrender, her cascading auburn waves falling to her waist.
And gods, she’s beautiful.
The sight of her bare and surrendered would send any man to his knees.
“We definitely keep proving that it’s our thing, don’t we?” she says, a playful edge to her tone.
But the tender exchange doesn’t last, it trails off, leading into a silence so absolute it’s deafening.
Kael lets it occupy the space so wholly, he almost chokes on it.
Then he cuts through the silence with the only words he has left to say. The only words he can say to prepare her for what she’s stepping into.
“You don’t know her, El,” Kael says, the words rumbling through his chest like a warning.
“She’s fucking brutal, cruel, clever. My father could never best her, so he submitted.
Kept on peaceful terms, supplied aid when necessary.
Anything to evade her wrath. She is the kind of creature even monsters step aside for. ”
But Elyssara doesn’t flinch. She stares him down, all steel and savagery. “And you, Kael? Will you step aside?”
He grunts a sadistic laugh. “I’ve been a monster my whole life, my love. I’m not about to stop now.”
The Light at her chest flares, washing the space in a soft, golden hue. “Then we have that in common. If Dravara needs a monster to be remembered, then I’ll become the kind monsters fear too.”
There’s fire in her eyes. Resolve he doesn’t want to test. Because if Elyssara knew what Maireth did to her people…
If she knew she sterilized the women on the Outside to breed out “weakness”, threw Comply or Die parties to watch insubordination punished by dehydration and sun-sickness in the desert instead, would her resolve falter?
He doesn’t want to know. So he lets the fire in her eyes ignite. Lets her focus on the plan.
“We need costumes,” he says, standing up and offering her his hand.
She grips it, standing before him. Her lean, tall build only reaching his shoulder. “I already know what I want.”
A laugh slips from his mouth. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
She smiles smugly.
A plan she’s already set on, then.
“I’ll be wearing a costume in the color of rust this evening.”
Rust.
“Of course you are,” Kael offers, a smirk dimpling his cheek.
Of course she’s walking into the wolf’s mouth wearing the color of the enemy.
“I’ll come out wearing its skin, Kael,” she purrs, and she walks away toward the stairs to Rhaema.
Fuck. There is not a chance this plan will work.
Which means they’re absolutely going to do it anyway.