Chapter 71
The throne room waited like an open maw. All the broken mirrors had been cleaned up; all evidence of the trial by light that had taken place months ago erased. There was a stillness, a hush, like the silence before a scream of lightning, as everyone remained slumped over the table.
Maelsar and I wrapped bronze chains around the sleeping nobles while we waited for Sylaira to return.
I wasn’t taking any chances with them waking and attacking us.
His father worked with the sentinels under my Command to drag their slumbering counterparts off to one side, also locked out of their power.
Trepidation crawled up my spine. Each step was arduous, my legs heavy with the weight of our new responsibility. This was the final test, the moment where our plans either lived or died.
But I would not let any harm come to my mate.
Sylaira drifted into the room, quiet, though her thoughts were still a storm. I hadn’t spied through our connection on her conversation with the High Priestess. If she thought she needed to speak with her, then the contents didn’t matter to me. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and I peered through the canopy of the central tree at the dark clouds.
Most would think it an ominous omen; I’d learned that the Goddess was watching.
My mate approached the thrones, the strike of her boots on the floor echoing around the space. I came to stand beside her, studying the silver and stone.
“I don’t want to live here when it’s all over,” she murmured, so quiet I’d thought I’d imagined her voice at first.
“Why not?”
She lifted her gaze, eyes meeting mine. “There’s too much pain. Everyone will look at us on these, in here, and remember the trial. Remember our coup. Remember the symbols of the Goddess’s new order that were here before we removed them. We need to drown it all and start fresh.”
I snaked a hand around her hip, tugging her into me.
“Then we will, little fugitive. Not only that, when we build anew, I will construct a private stage, where you will dance for me every day. When times get tough, when we disagree on the right path—because I have no doubt we will—you can retreat there until you have processed all that you need.”
Her breath hitched as I painted a picture of our future for her. Her long silver lashes swept across her cheeks as she blinked up at me. “There is nothing I would love more.”
“Not even me?” I teased.
Her answering grin made my knees go weak. “I love you, Vaeron. You are my protection, my shelter, my haven. I would not want to take refuge with anyone but you. I know we’ll fight, and I also know I’ll never question your devotion to me. And that is precious.”
I curved down, capturing her mouth with mine. Crushed ghostflower enveloped me, and I inhaled Sylaira’s scent like it was the last time I’d smell anything.
A moan quaked in her throat, and she threaded her fingers behind my neck, deepening our kiss. We remained locked like that, lost in each other, until a small sound scraped my ears.
Reluctantly, I released her, finding the head of House Faelira waking. Maelsar’s father strode to reclaim his chair. He had to appear like he’d been drugged too, that he hadn’t been working with us all along.
I guided Sylaira to stand with me in front of them all.
More picked their heads up, bleary and disoriented from the valerian root powder mixed in their wine.
The two Kisst I’d Commanded for Iaoth—Rhael Thesariin and Mannore Liraeviel—awoke next. They’d been strong opponents to many things Stadiel had wanted to do.
Would they protest now?
After all, I had infuriated them both with my power on more than one occasion. They blinked, their gaze drifting down the table until they found Sylaira and me waiting at the head of it.
“Bow your heads to your new monarchs,” Maelsar ordered them. His father was the first—and only—to obey.
As more nobles returned to consciousness, Maelsar gave the same order. Some fell into line. Many, like Rhael and Mannore, did not. They rattled their chains, voices rising as they demanded we let them go.
Sylaira kept her expression smooth, betraying nothing of her internal anxiety.
Herr Elyriane snarled at us. “I thought the Koron banished you,” he said, shoving his feet against the floor and scooting his chair back so it was out of line with the rest of them. “Yet here you are, having us all drugged at dinner. And for what?”
I did not flinch under his heavy glare or harsh words. Instead, I stared him down, offering him an equal amount of disdain.
“Stadiel and Ishim are dead.” The pronouncement echoed around the space. While the first might not be true exactly, it was only a matter of time. The Halálhívó would find him, and like me, the Halálhívó knew no mercy.
Purple lightning forked through the sky, casting the room in sharp relief. I almost grinned at the sign from our Radiant Mother.
“Where is the Korona?” Zarethiel protested.
“Right here.” I gestured to my mate.
“Bah,” Mannore spat. “You expect us to kneel here and let you rule? We all know you’re a monster. No better than the Demons.”
Rage roared inside me, and red striated my vision. The cut on my arm still hadn’t closed completely. The blood magic whispered sweet temptation.
Sever the life of anyone who dares oppose us. It will be so much easier that way.
“We will not be like them,” Sylaira pushed into my mind, crowding out the darkness’s promises.
She’d spared my sister, even after admitting how furiously she wanted her dead.
Because she realized that she didn’t have to surrender that peaceful part of herself—not fully.
Nor did I want her to. Goddess, I was so fucking proud of the female she’d become.
That innate strength she always carried, amplified for the world to see.
I dragged in a steadying breath. “No, we will not.”
“My sister gave my mate the title of Seraelth. Realmsaver, everyone has called her all these months.” I paused, crossing my arms and dragging my gaze across the people crowded around the table.
“And yet, now that she stands before you, ready to do as the Goddess and all of you have bid, you turn your back on her?”
A few of the younger females whispered among themselves, staring at Sylaira. She merely held their attention with a regal air. Like she’d been born into the position rather than carved into it by necessity.
“Where is Korona Iaoth?” Herr Elyriane asked again, turning his attention up and down the table like he was trying to garner support. “We demand to see her. And proof of the death of our Koron too!”
A chorus of support rang out through the Herrs and Kissts.
“If anyone should replace Stadiel on the throne, Goddess save him, it should be me,” Zarethiel stated like it was already decided.
I gritted my teeth and held back the words that wanted to break free.
“Why? Because your Goddess-gifted power is better suited to saving this realm?” Sylaira drawled.
He whipped around, lips curling back from his teeth. “All of this started because of you.”
“And it will end because of me too,” she snapped, the storm inside her rising. Thunder boomed in her heart, in her soul, deeply intertwined with mine. And I watched in awe as she struck down the male who had hurt her at that ball.
“If you want your noble sons and daughters fighting on the front lines to live, you will pledge loyalty to us. For only we can end this war,” she said, the words smooth as glass.
“The Issaraeth, your new Koron, possesses the magic to stop the Demons at the gates if necessary. And I?” She let out a dark laugh that heated my blood.
“I am the Seraelth. The Goddess sent me to save the realm and all Her children in it. Do you no longer trust Her judgment?”
A few heads of houses shifted their weight.
“What say you, Rhael?” I looked to the Kisst who had ceased fighting his restraints.
He glanced at his wife and youngest daughter. His heir had been with Ishim during the three-pronged battle. With the note I’d received from Oshenai, I wasn’t sure if he was alive or dead.
“This war has gone on far too long. If you can end it, I will follow.” And then, he bowed his head. I gestured for Maelsar to remove the bronze chains.
When Rhael was free, he rounded the table and knelt at our feet.
Kisst Caerelith cleared his throat, drawing the attention of his fellow heads of houses.
“My lanthi is adjacent to House R?viel’s svaethi.
I have known Vaeron since he was a youngling.
The monster Mannore claims to exist, I do not see.
For that reason, House Caerelith will support the new monarchs in whatever may come. ”
House Nyssavune pledged their support next. I held the Herr’s gaze, a silent thanks passing between us for what he had done to feed the army.
Zarethiel’s face grew redder and redder as the members of other houses were released to kneel before their new rulers. “Stop this madness at once! You are so quick to abandon Koron Stadiel after he rightly won the throne through divine mandate?”
“The Goddess wants us on a new path,” Sylaira said, words spilling out of her with conviction. Wielding their faith was the only way to win—at least right now.
“Does she? Or is that a convenient excuse to put my daughter’s betrothed on the throne?” Zarethiel burst from his chair, the bronze falling away. A knife clattered to the floor.
Fuck, he’d picked the lock while we weren’t looking.
Power surged beneath the surface of my skin, white mixing with red-tinted black. A vein pulsed in his forehead as he stalked forward, begging me to rip it free.
“You are not noble. You are no one. You say our deity makes mistakes. Well, She made one bonding the two of you.” He pointed an accusing finger directly at my mate. “If anyone should be kneeling, it’s you, at my feet.” White snapped from him and cinched around Sylaira’s chest.
And I yanked on the vines in his neck, snapping them like I so desperately wanted to do with his spine. His magic fell away as he clutched his throat, choking and coughing ruby spittle.
And finally, fucking finally, his knees hit the ground in front of us.
Sylaira stepped to the side a second before he pitched forward at her feet. She didn’t deign to look at his corpse, even though her heart pounded faster than the final steps of the Sleeping Maiden.
“Is there anyone else who wishes to question the Goddess’s judgment?” she challenged, a threat crackling in her tone.
The blood magic roared for more, and I wrestled it into submission. No one else could die with this magic, not when its every use transformed me more. I didn’t have a mirror to peer into to see how I’d changed from this small use.
The fear radiating off every gathered noble curled dark satisfaction inside me. They truly believed the Goddess had killed Zarethiel, passed Her judgment upon him at last.
Because a power like mine wasn’t supposed to exist among the Angels; they’d never suspect it was me.
Sylaira and I retreated toward the thrones, giving more space for our subjects to profess their loyalty. Mannore was next to shoot from his seat and kneel.
Once everyone had been unshackled, Maelsar came to the front of the group and drew his sword.
Bending at the waist, he offered it to me.
“Koron Vaeron of House R?viel, I am yours to wield. May our Radiant Mother sanctify you with Her grace. May you walk in Her truth, guided by Her divine will. Let Her justice flow through your hands.”
I accepted his weapon, turning it over, letting the gemstone in the hilt catch the light. I cut myself on the edge of the blade, then handed it back to him. He did the same, and we clasped palms, letting our blood mix.
We’d bled together before—during hunts, during battles—but this was the first time we’d chosen to share it, to bind ourselves as the brothers we had always been. “Maelsar of House Caerelith, may our Radiant Mother save you.”
He straightened and cleaned off his sword. One by one, the remaining heads of houses came forward, offering me the same oath. Their families prostrated themselves, whispering pledges of their loyalty.
Dasha came forward, gaze downcast, and knelt before my mate.
She was the only living representative of House Elyriane now.
“Seraelth, hear my prayer.” Her voice shook as she dropped her chin to her chest. “Let your Sight burn away all falsehood. Let only our Radiant Mother’s holy order remain. My house is honored to serve.”
Sylaira held out her hand, and Dasha kissed the back of it before retreating. We had no crowns. No gems. And yet, with our power alone, we’d convinced all of them to surrender to us.
For one breath, reality felt more like one of Sylaira’s visions.
“You may return to your rooms, though know the Goddess is watching over you. Should you break your oath, well…” I trailed off, casting a glance at Zarethiel’s lifeless form. “She will know.”
With scraping bows and curtseys, they retreated. Because as much as they feared our creator, venom still dripped from their fangs.
Maelsar hoisted Zarethiel over his shoulder. “I’ll take care of this and find Lyriasthe. I can’t believe we forgot him.”
“He needed to die. We should have added him to our list earlier.” I shrugged, letting my grin break free.
Maelsar laughed, and Sylaira joined in, the sound so bright, so melodic that hope ached in my chest.
Because she was alive. Fuck, somehow we’d all lived when we’d faced so many obstacles that should have killed us.
“I’ll dump him outside the walls for a jaguar to find,” Maelsar said, adjusting the weight before striding toward the back staircase.
The moment we were alone, I turned to my mate. “What do I look like now?”
“See through me,” she said, tilting her head up.
I dove down our bond, savoring how open Sylaira was to me. So unlike the last time we’d stood between these marble walls.
The purple was darker now, the contrasting color to my irises unmistakable. There was no hiding the transformation—not anymore.
But now that I was the Koron, there was no need. Not when one subtle tug on my power could convince these Angels that the Goddess Herself had ordained their deaths.
“You could have used a different method,” Sylaira chided me.
I captured her waist, bringing her lithe frame flush with mine. “It wouldn’t have served our aims nearly as well.”
Her fingers splayed across my chest. Silver tumbled down her back. I threaded my fingers through her locks and held her in place as I claimed her mouth.
As I should have done the moment I found out she was my mate.