28. Ryker
Ryker
We’re seated around the family dining table, and I find myself unable to look away from her.
I don’t smile—that’s a luxury I can’t quite afford with the images of the Alpha team’s blacked-out screens still burned into my mind—but I feel a rare, simmering heat in my chest. Raea has been training harder than she let on.
She kept her morning sessions with Ezra and her evenings “meditating her magic” with Professor Ainslyn a secret, wanting to surprise me.
She succeeded.
I knew she was getting stronger from Trysten’s reports, but seeing her move today was something else entirely. Swords are still her hurdle, but the way she handles her blades and Hallo is breathtaking. It’s a lethal kind of grace that makes the Aethermark in my blood hum with pride.
“Anders,” King Bastian says, his voice pulling me back from the edge of my thoughts. “I’d like for you to accompany me after dinner for a drink in my study. We have much to discuss.”
I nod, the "Prince" mask sliding back into place even as my leg brushes against Raea’s under the table. “I’d love to, sir.”
We’re seated to the King’s left, with the Queen across from us and our friends trailing down the table. It feels strange—our two worlds have fused so seamlessly.
“Raea,” Queen Amaya starts, her eyes narrowing as she leans forward. The chatter dies instantly, and heads swivel toward us. “What is that?”
Raea looks at me, her eyes searching mine for a heartbeat before she turns to her mother. A radiant grin—the one I’d give anything to protect—lights up her face. “An engagement ring.”
Ciara squeals, launches out of her seat, and rushes over as King Bastian chuckles. Trysten gives me a knowing look and nods.
Queen Amaya turns to King Bastian who shrugs. “You didn’t tell me,” she scoffs playfully. “Let me see that ring, dear,” she says to Raea.
Raea stands, rounding the table to her mother and Ciara. “I was going to tell you, but everything changed—”
Queen Amaya shushes her daughter as Ciara wipes tears from her eyes.
King Bastian winks at me. He knew of my plans. I didn’t want to upset him by not asking for his blessing.
“Isn’t that a commoner’s tradition?” Tate asks, his voice cutting through the celebratory squeals. He looks at the ring from across the table as if it’s a curiosity rather than a declaration of my love and her choice.
I feel the phantom weight of my father’s disdain echoing in the comment—the idea that royals don't choose, they only contract. But one look at Raea's radiant grin tells me we’re always going to make our own rules.
“Hey,” Raea says, joining the conversation. “It was romantic. He had a whole date planned and every second of it was perfect.”
Tate raises his hands in surrender.
“Nicely done,” Trysten says.
Kellan clears his throat. “I’d like to congratulate you both. I’m sorry for my actions, and I want you to know, I’m genuinely happy for you. I’m glad that my best friend has found someone to love her better than I ever could have.”
Queen Amaya startles, looking first at Kellan, then at me.
King Bastian pats her hand as if to say, later dear.
Raea offers him a small, broken smile. “Thanks, Kel.” After a few awkward moments of silence, she adds, “He took me to his family’s private beach…” then recounts a short and simple, not so intimate version of our evening.
King Bastian clinks his glass to mine. “To my new son. You’ll not get it until you have your own children one day, but seeing my girl happy, it’s all I've ever wanted. You’ve given her that.”
I nod my thanks.
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about a meeting I had with the crowns earlier today. They’ve all been informed of your missing fleet, and they’ve joined our side.
They believe King Alexi’s actions have proven where his loyalties lie.
I know your analysts have been going over the scans of Khyreth. Have they made any real progress?”
I sit forward, the leather chair squeaking under me.
“No, sir. It’s been difficult to decipher what it means.
We fear that without another mission, we may not fully understand.
All we can see is that the landscape has changed.
There are rows upon rows of something. Some sections show rings, denser at the center, thinner as they go out.
But as far as understanding what the material is or what is there… ” I shake my head.
He hums, knocking his knuckle on the handle of the chair.
“I have a theory.” He stands, setting his glass on the bookshelf as his gaze becomes distant.
“The Drift. It’s something I’ve been looking into.
First, as a possible means for protection, but then Raea said something.
” He pauses, turning to me. “Did you know the Drift is nicknamed the heart of the system?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nods. “Well, Sgya. Is it not also the heart of the system?” My mind feels like it's playing catch-up. “We believe the Drift may be a back door, so to speak, to Sgya. You were both allowed there once before. Maybe you will be again. You’d have to leave first thing in the morning, of course.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” I clear my throat, standing and swirling the amber liquid. “You want Raea and me to go into the Drift…and access Sgya…like a backdoor?”
King Bastian laughs. “Why, yes, I’d like you to try. Maybe the gods can give us answers. We can’t just sit around waiting.”
I look into the amber liquid, my thoughts swirling. I sit again, the leather of the chair groaning under my sudden tension. The Drift is impossible, and nobody has ever returned. To use it as a backdoor to Sgya is more than a theory—it’s a gamble with our lives.
I study Bastian's face, searching for the King who would sacrifice everything for a win, but all I see is a father who knows this might be our only chance to stop the shadows.
“Have you spoken with Raea about this?” I ask, running a hand through my hair.
“It was her idea.”
I find Raea in her rooms as she prepares for bed. Mera is braiding her hair as I enter. She grins at me through the mirror.
“Hi, Prince,” she says, giggling as she plays with the necklace I gifted her.
“Princess,” I say, dropping onto the chaise.
Mera ties off her hair and wishes us both a good night before disappearing.
Raea studies me in the mirror a few heartbeats before she spins to face me. “You’re staring.”
A smile pulls at my mouth. “Observing.”
Her bare legs stretch out before her as she leans back. “That’s a poetic way to admit you’re staring.”
I hum, letting my gaze slide over her. Gods, I’m obsessed with everything about her. “You make it easy to forget my words, love.” Clearing my throat, I add, “So you think we should go to the Drift?”
She laughs and stands, her robes dragging behind before she settles in my lap. “I do. Will you come?”
The scent of frost blooms and fresh rain consumes my senses along with the hum of our Bond. “I’d follow you anywhere, Soraea.”
Her palm rubs along my jaw where there’s now a short beard. “I love this,” she whispers before her lips press into mine. I smile, then wrap my hand around her neck, bringing her closer. Her tongue darts out, and I immediately taste mint.
She shifts in my lap, straddling me now as she deepens our kiss. There is a frantic edge to her kiss, a biological hunger that mirrors the hum in my own blood. After days apart, my hunger for her has turned into starvation.
I don’t want her—I need the physical anchor of her skin against mine to quiet the storm the war room reports left in my head.
When her robe hits the floor, revealing the lilac gossamer, every thought of the Drift or the mission vanishes. There is only starlight wrapped in wisps of fabric, and gods, she is everything I’ve ever wanted.
My hands slide to her waist, then to her ass, tugging her closer. I’ve been dreaming about getting her naked and back in my sheets all week.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
She giggles, smiling against my lips. “Another wedding present that couldn’t wait.”
“Is that so?” I lean back, letting my gaze fall over her.
Her skin looks like a milky shade of silk.
Under the thin material of her nightgown, I can see her breasts full and perky, her nipples hard.
When I let my gaze fall further, I notice she’s not wearing panties again.
“Soraea,” I groan. “What are you doing to me?”
Her responding giggle is like music to my ears. She grips my shoulders as she leans in, her tongue running up my neck before she whispers, “I’ve missed you.”
I capture her mouth in mine, standing to walk us back to her bed chamber. Once her back hits the fluffy mound of blankets, I straighten, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. When my chest is bare, she reaches for me, pulling me down on top of her.
We’re a tangle of sloppy kisses and exploring hands—the neediness growing to a pinnacle between us. I work my way down her neck, tasting her sweet skin as I go, then move across her chest, teasing.
She whispers my name as I bring her breast to my mouth. With my gaze locked on hers, my tongue darts out. Her eyes flutter closed as she arches, her hand covering the moan that escapes her. I’m about to move to the other side when there’s a knock at her door.
We both pause until we hear another knock, then Ciara’s voice, followed by Tate’s, then Trysten’s. I mutter a curse in one of the forgotten languages and drop my forehead to Raea’s.
“Told you they aren’t here.”
“They are. I saw them come up here.”
“Maybe they don’t want to be disturbed,” Trysten drawls.
“Maybe if we stay quiet—” Raea whispers before another bang bang bang rattles the door.
“We know you’re in there. We have an urgent question,” Tate says.
“I told you she’s busy.” Ciara whisper-yells.
Raea groans then laughs.
“Busy doing what? It’s the middle of the night.”
Ciara, clearly exasperated, says, “Exactly!”
I stand, ignoring my forgotten shirt on the floor as Raea disappears into the other room.
Once I’ve adjusted myself, I swing the door open, ready to tear them apart.
The group freezes. Their eyes travel from my bare chest to the fresh, red lines tracing my skin where Raea’s nails found purchase. Silence falls, thick and awkward.
Leaning against the doorframe, I growl with every bit of annoyance, “You’re interrupting.”
Ciara shoves Tate forward.
“Oh. Um,” he stutters, “We…we needed to just ask—uh—” He scratches his head looking back at Ciara.
She sighs. “Tate has wrangled us into a game. We need more players.”
Annoyed, I respond, “You came here at midnight to play a game?”
Silence. Then Trysten snorts, and Kellan mutters a curse. It’s only then that I realize he’s among them.
Ciara replies with a hopeful grin. “To be fair, we didn’t think you’d be in the middle of—” She gestures toward my chest.
Tate wraps an arm around her shoulders. “What she said.” He points to her nodding.
“Leave.”
Tate swallows. “Right. We were just leaving—”
Raea appears at my side. “Wait! What’s up?”
They all pause mid-step.
“Drinks and a game?” Tate asks, holding up a bottle of some glittering liquid. “I mean, we could die tomorrow, and we only live once…and all that.”
Raea looks at me apologetically.
Godsdammit. I drag a hand through my hair as I sigh.
“We don’t have that much time with you before—” Kellen’s gaze swings to me, then back to Raea, jaw ticking.
I can’t help but smirk. He’s only now noticing the red marks still marring her milky skin along her neck and chest. Trysten mutters something about funerals.
“Well, when you put it like that. Come on in,” Raea says, holding the door open for them. “No drinks though.”
Everyone files into her room. Trysten pats me on the shoulder, muttering an apology as he passes.