Chapter 27 #2
Solas returned first, kneeling beside me with a worn blanket in his hands.
Without a word, he draped it around my shoulders.
Only then did I realize how exposed I was.
My fingers clutched the fabric tightly. Beneath it, I wore only the thin, lacy scrap Cerilla considered a binder, and my pants were torn and dirty.
Dried blood clung to my exposed skin. Between the gore covering my skin and my long hair, I hoped my scars were hidden.
Worry coiled somewhere deep in my consciousness but my unnatural hunger for the Commander overshadowed my insecurities.
Cerilla and Solas sat next to me around the fire, speaking in low voices beside me, but their words drifted like the smoke, weightlessly floating away from me.
My head snapped up, eyes following the Commander as he moved towards the fire, each flex of muscle dragging a pulse of heat through me.
His venom hummed in my veins, blurring anger into want until my thighs tightened with the humiliating need to be closer.
He was clean, and not one shadow was in sight.
He said nothing as he approached, stopping on the opposite side of the fire, jaw flexing as though he were fighting the urge to look at me.
He sat on the ground, stretching his long legs out towards the fire.
I made a sound, half frustration, half need, and rose unsteadily to my feet.
Solas and Cerilla went quiet, but I didn’t care.
I crossed the space between us, the blanket dragging behind me like a train.
He watched me grow closer, eyebrows pulled, dark curls damp with water.
His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the vein twitch at his temple.
Without hesitation, I lowered myself between his powerful thighs, leaning back against his abdomen and tucking my face against his chest. His body went stiff beneath mine, his breath catching as my weight pressed into him. He growled, but he didn’t stop me.
“That,” Solas said mildly, “is not something I expected to witness, ever.”
“Exactly how much venom did you use, brother?” Cerilla’s gaze flicked between us, her expression tightening.
“I did not think it was much. But it has been over five hundred years since I have fed from a living being, it was difficult to control,” he said tightly.
Five hundred? Surely the venom was affecting my hearing. “How old are you?” I asked, surprised.
“Old,” he replied instantly, avoiding my question. I pouted up at him and his jaw clenched as he looked down at me.
“I’m over a thousand years old.” His face looked like it was carved by the Gods themselves, not one ounce of ageing hung on his face. He didn’t look older than twenty-five.
Before I could respond, Cerilla cut in. “Do explain what happened, brother. You suddenly got furious and disappeared into a heap of shadows, leaving me in the Mourning Woods alone.”
“My little prisoner attracted a swarm of Nightbourne, after her visit to the Fire Fates.”
Cerilla let out a small gasp.
I drew lazy circles on the Commander’s thigh as they talked around me, wondering what it would feel like to trail my hand higher.
To make him take me against the ground. What sounds would he make when he came undone?
His hand pressed down over the top of mine, stilling it against his thigh.
I looked up at his dark expression with a small smirk.
“Lyra? What did you find out?” Cerilla asked softly, leaning forwards on her elbows.
“Mostly just more unanswered questions.” I closed my eyes, imagining the molten monsters that spoke in riddles. The memory felt hazy, like it was far away, and I couldn’t quite grasp it. I sat up straight. My head spinning from the sudden movement.
“Something about Kingdoms. They said…” I pressed my fingers to my temples, rubbing the ache that was throbbing in my head. “It’s up to me to unite them.”
“We have been trying for years. What would you suggest?” the Commander said through clenched teeth.
What could I do? My stomach twisted and a fresh wave of nausea washed over me with the realisation. My hand in marriage would have united the Northern and Southern territories. Could marriage unite two warring Kingdoms? Perhaps I needed to do what I was bred to do all this time. Submit to a man.
“Do you have a king?” I asked breathlessly.
“Four courts rule the Fae lands—Ember, Frost, Dawn and Obsidian. Each governs their own territory.” Solas tilted his head curiously at me as he answered. “But the Obsidian Court’s high lord,” he added slowly, “commands the others.”
“Take me to him,” I demanded, raising my chin and letting my voice carry across the small clearing. The Commander’s body went still beneath me as the sound of wood crackling in the fire broke the silence.
“Why would I do that?” He asked.
The others watched me intently and I squared my shoulders, swallowing the bile that clawed its way up my throat. Slowly, I lifted my gaze—first to Cerilla, then to Solas, and finally to the male whose arms still circled me like he hadn’t decided whether to hold or break me.
“I am Lyra Meridian.” Solas stilled and Cerilla’s eyes widened.
I lifted my chin, forcing the words past the ache in my chest. “Daughter of King Vaylor, and Princess to the Mortal Kingdom.” Silence crashed down around us, and the Commander became unnaturally still.
“I will offer my hand in marriage to the Obsidian Court’s ruler,” I continued, voice raw but unwavering. “To bind our realms and fight the Seven Hells.”