Chapter 30 An Answer
Chapter thirty
An Answer
-Kael-
The hall was too quiet, Kael still knelt before her, unmoving, a shadow-drenched monument of devotion.
The ring sat in his open palm like something sacred.
Moonstone catching the light, it wasn't an offering but a vow.
A quiet war declared against fate in its attempt to claim her for its purpose.
His silver eyes burned with certainty and restraint.
Maris was yet to move. Her fingers flexing once at her sides like she'd forgotten what to do with them. Her gaze was wide, fixed on the ring, then on him. Her expression held none of the bright clarity a moment like this was meant to bring. Still she didn't speak.
His soul curled in on itself, the question slithering through his mind like smoke: What have I done?
Fool, he thought. You should've done this in private. The moment stretched, her silence echoing louder than any refusal, and his mind spun with every cursed misstep that led him here.
He cursed himself quietly with venom. Not for loving her — but for turning something sacred into a spectacle.
For kneeling under chandeliers and shadowed banners when he should have done it in the hush of their private chambers.
He hated himself for not asking her if this was something she even wanted.
She was mortal. Young. Newly powerful. Still learning who she was.
And here he was, binding her with politics and prophecy and —
The temptation to take it back bloomed like panic in his chest.
He opened his mouth —breath drawn to speak —to take back the moment before it shattered everything between them.
Maris moved forward, the haze of his torment shattered as her presence cut through it — light in the middle of his self-made purgatory. She leaned in , close enough for only him, her breath brushing his cheek.
“Yes,” she whispered, softly.
For a moment, he didn't breathe. Didn't move.
The word hung in the space between them —small, fragile, and yet it struck like thunder. Yes.
Kael blinked, as if unsure he'd heard her right — so used to darkness and doubt, couldn't yet accept the light.
Then it hit him.
The joy came like a flood — sharp, overwhelming.
His chest rose on a sudden breath, something cracking wide open behind his ribs.
A sound escaped him — half laugh, half exhale.
He reached for her — his hand cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing her cheek like she was the only thing anchoring him to this world, his body trembling with the force of something he'd never let himself want too deeply.
Bliss— real, unfiltered and his.
"I'll never deserve this," he whispered against her skin, voice shaking, "but gods I promise to worship you."
She smiled brightly — gentle and radiant.
"You don't have to deserve it. ' she whispered, brushing her thumb over his knuckles. "You just have to stay."
That was all it took.
Kael surged upward, pulling her into his arms with a choked laugh. He kissed her deep and shameless. He spun her — arms around her waist, her laughter breaking free as the court erupted.
Cheers rang through the grand hall, a flood of applause rising like a tidal wave. Nobles stood, stunned and clapping, some faces lit with rare joy, others frozen in shock— the older bloodlines, pale and blinking as if trying to make sense of the king they thought they knew.
But Kael didn't see them, he only saw her.
And then, as though it had been waiting for this very moment, the orchestra struck up again, sweeping notes blooming into music that made the chandeliers tremble and the shadows pulse with rhythm.
Kael didn’t look away from her even as the court exploded into motion around them. He lifted one arm without glancing back and gave a lazy, sharp-fingered flick, his signal to the orchestra, but also a silent command.
Let the feast begin.
The great banquet tables came to life with clattering silver and goblets filled by enchanted decanters. Dishes began arriving dusted venison, roasted figs, bloodwine warmed just below a boil. But Kael could only see her.
Maris. His bride-to-be.
She was not the girl who had trembled in his throne room, eyes wide with fear. She was becoming something more. And now she was his.
He kept a hand on her throughout the feast: her back, her hand, the curve of her arm — as the nobles came, one after another. Courtiers in robes of midnight. High born fae with silver skin and pointed ears. Vampiric elders with eyes like red moons.
Each offered their congratulations. Some masked it in flattery. Some in veiled political maneuvering. Others like the twin generals —their wives—even Valea and Lord Draeven simply gave nods of approval, curt and clean.
Kael didn’t care.
He barely noticed the words, the titles, the bows.
All that mattered was that Maris stayed by his side — her finger baring his ring and her lips tasting faintly of him.
He tugged her close during a lull in the well-wishing, his voice brushing her ear like silk-wrapped steel.
“You haven’t run,” he murmured. “That’s —unexpected.”
Her breath hitched. “Yet.”
He chuckled, low and dark and kissed the shell of her ear. “Try. I dare you.”
She smiled. Small. Real. His chest thudded at the sight.
He turned toward the dais, guiding her gently with him. The court still buzzed —drunk on celebration —but Kael barely heard them. For once, he wasn’t performing for them. Wasn’t smiling to manipulate or growl to threaten.
This night was his.
Not forced by duty. Not wrapped in blood-soaked tradition.
But chosen and maybe that made all the difference.
Laughter echoed against the vaulted stone. Gilded goblets clinked. Court musicians played with an almost unholy frenzy, coaxed by magic and the wine-drunken delight of the nobility. And still, Kael could not stop watching her.
Maris.
His betrothed.
She leaned into his side slightly now, maybe because of the wine, maybe because of the warmth that had begun pooling between them like a current. He’d felt it shift the moment she accepted.
A tether. The beginning of it.
It coiled like a slow-burning thread of silver between their chests. Not fully formed but it would solidify before dawn. The old magic was ancient law in Nythra. One he hadn’t dared invoke with another and now here it was. A bond awakened.
He tilted his head toward her, his voice low, reserved just for her ear despite the revelry roaring around them.
“There’s something you should know,” he said, brushing a hand down her spine. She leaned into it.
“Tonight,” he continued, “a temporary bond will settle between us. It's a tradition.”
Her gaze flicked to his, sharp but unreadable. “What kind of bond?”
Kael studied her expression carefully, his tone still velvet but edged.
“It’s protective. Ancient. It allows betrothed pairs to sense each other’s emotional states: pain, fear, sometimes pleasure. Strong enough magic passes through it. You may hear me in your mind if I don’t wall you out. You may speak to me the same, if you choose.”
Her brows rose, a hundred thoughts sparking in those starlit eyes of hers.
“Arranged marriages often require it,” Kael added, gaze tightening. “To keep strangers from killing each other in their sleep.”
She blinked. “And us?”
He met her stare directly. “Ours is not arranged.”
Maris flushed beautifully under the candlelight, the words hitting harder than he’d intended.
“I’ll feel your emotions?”
He nodded. “Not sharply, not unless the feelings are, potent.”
Maris bit her lower lip, which was swiftly becoming one of his favorite sights.
“And if I feel something.. you will too?”
His voice dipped lower. “Yes.”
A silence passed. Heavy. Knowing.
And when her hand brushed his both their magics surged together like a living thing.
-Maris-
For a heartbeat, she let herself have it — the kiss, the weightless spin, the deafening cheer of a court that had not long before looked at her with suspicion and now roared in approval.
Kael was beaming. That cold, sharp-edged king had melted beneath her fingers, joy blazing across his face like dawn breaking through the dark clouds of a storm. His arms around her felt like a promise. His kiss had tasted like relief. And gods help her… she wanted this.
She wanted him. Desperately.
She could see it all before her now — hallways they'd walk together, nights spent tangled in sheets and secrets, decisions made not alone but side by side.
She'd never dreamed of royalty. Never longed for a crown.
But the future with him wasn't about thrones or titles.
It was about belonging. Safety. Love that had been craved, not gifted.
Still, even as she smiled up at him —flushed with need and anticipation of their new bond— something inside her flickered.
A shadow of a question that hadn't yet been answered.
He hadn't mentioned the journal. Hadn't said a word about the dreams she'd written about — the ones another male's voice and form had haunted her.
Kael had read it. She was sure. The pages had been left out, carelessly. And Kael was not the kind of man who didn't read what was placed before him. He had disappeared after her sparring and returned covered in blood.
And yet he had not brought it up, not offered her an explanation of what had happened?
The joy in her chest did not dim— but it flickered slightly.
She didn't let it show.
She smiled and kissed him once more. And when he held her close, she rested her head against his chest, letting the moment wrap around them like silk.
But her thoughts were already stirring.
He'd given her forever.
But she still wasn't sure if he'd given her the truth.
The feast waned slowly, golden lights flickering lower and lower like dying stars in chandeliers overhead. Nobles retired one by one, their drunken laughter echoing down the long halls —bloodwine sloshing in crystal and lace-gloved hands.
But Kael stayed.
And so did Maris.