Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Zander’s voice carried a low, decisive tone that made my pulse skip. “We leave at nightfall. Until then, take the day off and rest. All of you.”
We all murmured agreement, the weariness in my bones making it sound like a vow, and one by one the others drifted away toward the barracks. Zander’s hand found mine, warm and certain, and without a word he steered me back toward his chambers.
“I want this day with you,” he said once the door was shut behind us.
I tilted my head. “That sounds ominous. We’re going to survive this. I believe in us, and in our team.”
His smile was slight but deep, like something he’d been carrying for far too long. “As do I… but I don’t think you understand what you are to me.”
When his thumb brushed over the ring on his finger, I caught his hand before he could pull it away. “I know what I am. Let’s just get through this, and I’ll agree to anything you ask.”
His eyes flickered—Dark Fire rising in their depths as if it were answering mine. “Anything?”
“I’m really hoping you mean kinky sex, but yes… anything.”
The corner of his mouth curved dangerously, which made my knees feel like water. “Then I can wait… but I’ll take you up on the sex part now.”
I laughed, the sound easing the knot in my chest, and slid my arms around his neck. If the world were going to burn tomorrow, then tonight, we would set our own fire.
His mouth was on mine before I could take another breath, the kiss hot and desperate, tasting of need and something that felt dangerously close to goodbye. His hands slid over me with almost frantic intent, tugging at buckles, loosening ties, discarding anything that kept him from my skin.
When there was nothing left between us, he lifted me onto the dresser, the wood cool against my bare thighs. His fingers gripped my hips, grounding me even as the rest of me felt like it were unraveling.
He trailed kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, each touch pulling a shiver from my spine, until his lips found the inside of my thigh. My breath caught. He looked up at me once, Dark Fire still flickering in his gaze, and then lowered his head.
The world dissolved into heat and sensation. My hands tangled in his hair, holding on as wave after wave built until my voice broke on his name, the sound raw with release. I was trembling when he finally rose, his hands framing my face as if I were something precious, he refused to let go of.
He didn’t speak, didn’t need to—his intent was in every breath, every touch. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging to him as if holding on would keep the war outside from touching us. When he entered me, our magic flared, colliding like lightning striking dark water.
The familiar surge of his power wrapped around mine, and relief flooded me—he was still just as strong, just as unshakable. Dark Fire bled into the storm inside me, each pulse weaving us closer together until there was no line between where I ended and he began.
We moved together, slow at first, then faster as the magic built, each thrust sending sparks dancing over my skin.
Our bond thrummed, alive and potent, feeding off our shared need.
I felt his forehead press to mine, his breath uneven, and I held him tighter, willing him to feel everything I couldn’t put into words.
The climax came like a tidal wave—white-hot, unrelenting—crashing through us both at once. Magic exploded outward in a burst of light and shadow, painting the room in shifting hues before fading back into the steady rhythm of our breathing.
For a moment, there was only him, his heartbeat against mine, and the certainty that no matter what came next, we were stronger together.
Zander’s arms were solid and sure as he lifted me from the dresser, holding me against his chest as if I weighed nothing at all.
The heat of his skin seeped into mine, the lingering hum of our magic settling into something quieter, more tender.
He carried me the short distance to the bed and eased me down, sliding in beside me without letting go.
I tucked myself into the curve of his body, my cheek resting against his shoulder. His fingers traced idle patterns along my spine, the slow rhythm grounding me after the storm we’d just unleashed.
“When the war ends…” His voice was low, thoughtful, “things will not be much easier.”
I tilted my head to look at him. “Because of the Blood Fae.”
He nodded. “Even if Veralin and Severeth are dead, their influence will linger. Their generals, their loyalists… we don’t know their hierarchy. It could take years to track them all down.”
I exhaled slowly, my hand resting over his heart. “And the Crimson Sigil,” I murmured. “That will always be a threat. Those without magic believing they should rule.”
“Which means they’ll never stop coming for the crown.” His gaze softened, though the shadows in it didn’t fade. “For us.”
I traced the edge of his jaw with my fingertips. “Then we deal with them. Together. However long it takes.”
His arm tightened around me, pulling me even closer until I could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. “Together,” he agreed, his tone carrying the weight of a vow.
For a while, we lay there in silence, the crackle of the fire in the hearth the only sound. The war was still out there, waiting—but for now, we had this moment, and each other. And that was enough to keep the darkness at bay.
The day slipped past in a haze of warmth and quiet breathing. Zander’s arm draped over my waist, his fingers tangled lazily in mine, and for a while I let myself sink into the rare stillness. His heartbeat was the steady drum I measured time by, the afternoon light shifting slowly across the room.
Then Kaelith’s voice cut through the calm. The army is approaching the outpost to the east. Major Ledor has sent two squads into the air.
I tensed, already pushing up on an elbow. Zander’s eyes opened, bright and alert, and I knew he’d heard the same warning from Hein. For a second, we just looked at each other, a silent agreement passing between us before we moved.
We dressed quickly, pulling on layers with the urgency of people who knew every second mattered.
My hands shook only once when I tightened my belt, and Zander’s gaze caught mine before he pulled on his riding armor.
The shift from lover to warrior was like a switch being thrown, and the air between us sparked with that shared focus.
Boots hit the floor in quick, measured steps as we left the room, the warmth of the bed already fading behind us. By the time we reached the hall, the sounds of movement—armor clinking, hurried voices, the thud of boots—echoed up from below.
We made for the stairs, our strides matching in perfect rhythm, and the moment the castle doors opened, the crisp bite of wind and the low roar of dragon wings met us.
The Ascension Grounds lay ahead, banners snapping in the cold air, riders moving with practiced urgency as our dragons shifted and rumbled in anticipation of flight.
Zander was already moving the moment our boots hit the Ascension Grounds, grabbing Hein’s saddle from the rack. The leather straps and gleaming steel buckles caught the light as he hauled it into place, securing it with the speed of someone who had done this a thousand times.
I moved to Kaelith, my fingers working just as quickly over the familiar buckles and girths. Around us, Thrall Squad was a flurry of motion—Ferrula muttering to Narvea as she adjusted the cinch, Jax throwing Koddos’ heavy breastplate into place, Naia’s hands deft on Temil’s straps.
Major Ledor strode toward us, his expression hard but eyes intense with focus.
“Provisions,” he said shortly, shoving a canvas bag into my hands before passing others to Zander, Ferrula, and Jax.
The weight was reassuring—water, dried meat, extra medical wraps—and I hooked it to Kaelith’s rear strap.
Once mounted, I settled into the curve of Kaelith’s neck, her muscles bunching in anticipation under me. Zander swung into Hein’s saddle in a single smooth motion, his posture already radiating command.
Near the barracks, Riven stood with Cordelle at her side. Both lifted their hands in a quick wave, their smiles tight with the kind of encouragement meant to mask worry. I raised my hand in return before Kaelith’s wings unfurled, their deep-purple expanse blotting out part of the sky.
The takeoff was a familiar jolt with muscles flexing, wind rushing past, and the ground dropping away in a dizzying sweep. The world below became a tapestry of movement and shadow as we climbed, the scent of cold air filling my lungs.
We swept over the army to the east, their lines crawling forward like an iron-tipped tide. Standards rippled in the wind, and the clang of marching armor carried even at this height.
Past them, Crownwatch and Stormforge wheeled in disciplined arcs above the field, their dragons circling like predatory hawks.
At the center, Dorian’s blue Striker, Foran, cut through the air with Lirane’s Swordtail just off his wingtip.
Their formation was tight, their focus absolute.
Even from here, I could feel the hum of magic between them as they adjusted their patrol to cover our passage.
Kaelith’s voice brushed my mind. We are clear. The sky is ours—for now.
The army became a distant smear of movement behind us as Kaelith’s powerful strokes carried us farther and farther east. Zander angled Hein into a wide arc, leading us away from any direct line toward the Blood Isle.
The sea wind tore at my hair, salt and brine stinging my cheeks as the sunlight glimmered in hard, silver shards across the waves.
We stayed high at first, skimming the edge of the clouds, where the air was thinner and colder.
Below, the water churned and foamed against jagged shoals, its deep-blue darkening to near-black as we pushed farther out.
I knew Zander’s caution wasn’t misplaced—the Crimson Sigil would have lookouts in the skies, watching for any sign of movement from the castle.
A direct flight path would have been a beacon.
The longer we flew over open water, the heavier the quiet in my mind became. Every wingbeat felt like a drumbeat toward something final, and Kaelith’s steady breathing beneath me was the only thing that kept the tension from twisting too tight.
Finally, the jagged teeth of the Blood Isle’s outer rocks rose from the sea like the bones of some ancient leviathan.
We descended toward an outcropping large enough to hold all of us, the dragons landing in heavy bursts of displaced air and spray.
Kaelith folded her wings, muscles rippling as she lowered herself to the rock to rest.
The isle loomed in the near distance, a black silhouette against the horizon, its cliffs sheer and forbidding. Dark clouds gathered over its highest point, pulsing as if responding to some heartbeat deep within.
Zander slid from Hein’s saddle, boots crunching against the wet stone, and turned to me.
His eyes steady, though I could feel the weight behind them.
“I will do whatever I have to in order to complete this mission,” he said.
“You have to find out what that key of yours unlocks, and I have to make sure Veralin doesn’t leave the isle alive. ”
A knot formed in my throat. “You can’t beat him. He’s more powerful than—”
“Me. Yes,” Zander finished, his voice even. “But not both of us. I believe in you, Ashlyn.”
My fingers lifted almost of their own accord, finding the small, cold weight hanging from its chain at my neck. The key felt heavier now, as if it had been waiting for this moment all along. I’d almost forgotten I had it—but Zander hadn’t.
I hated what it meant for us, hated the path it might force us down. But looking at him there, with the wind tangling his dark hair and the sea mist on his face, I accepted what I had been trying to deny.
He was destined to be king.
And if we survived this, I would be by his side. Even if he were forced to marry another.