Epilogue
THERON
The palace feels different now.
Not because the walls have changed—they’re still the same stone, the same towering arches and echoing halls—but because I stand in them differently. I no longer feel like a man passing through—a smith who wandered too far from his forge. This place…this kingdom…is mine.
Ours.
I stand at the wide window of our chambers, looking out over the sprawling city below, the rooftops glowing gold in the late afternoon sun. The air smells faintly of smoke and bread and the ordinary life of my people, though I’m still getting used to thinking of them that way.
Behind me, I hear the soft rustle of fabric and the quiet, steady rhythm of Elowen’s breathing. I don’t have to turn to know where she is—I can feel her. Ever since the Bonding, that awareness has never left me. It hums quietly under my skin, a constant, reassuring presence.
Mine.
“Ours,” my Drake corrects, his voice warm and satisfied.
I let out a quiet breath, the corner of my mouth lifting.
Yes, ours.
Our wedding was only a few weeks ago, but our union already feels like something carved into the bones of the world itself—inevitable, unbreakable.
The entire kingdom turned out for it, filling the courtyard with music and laughter and more people than I ever thought I’d see in one place.
My grandfather stood beside me, proud and steady, his hand on my shoulder as I took Elowen’s hand in mine.
She was radiant. Not in the way court ladies try to be, dressed up and polished until they all look the same—but in her own way.
Her curls were half-tamed for once, threaded with tiny silver ornaments that caught the light, and her eyes…those bright green eyes that once made her feel like an outcast…they shone with something stronger than magic.
In them I saw confidence and belonging and love. She stood before the entire kingdom and did not falter once.
My queen. I’m so fucking proud of her.
The thought still hits me sometimes, sharp and unexpected. She’s really mine and I’m really hers. But I nearly lost her—nearly let her walk away because I was too damn afraid to tell her the truth.
I tighten my grip on the stone ledge, exhaling slowly.
“Fool,” my Drake rumbles. “We almost lost her. We’re lucky she’s braver than you gave her credit for.”
“Yes,” I mutter under my breath. “I know.”
I’m very aware that I was given a second chance and I won’t waste it.
My grandfather has already begun teaching me what it means to rule—long days in council chambers, listening to disputes, learning the weight of decisions that affect more than just my own life.
He says he’ll step down soon, that the kingdom needs a younger hand at the helm, but he’s in no hurry to leave me unprepared.
I’m grateful for that.
There’s more to being a king than strength and instinct. More than fire and steel. And though I may have both, I’ve still got much to learn.
But there is one duty he reminds me of more than any other—I need to provide the kingdom with an heir.
I glance back over my shoulder now, my gaze softening instantly.
Elowen is stretched across the bed, half-curled into the silken covers, her hair a wild spill of red against the pillows. She’s wearing one of the softer gowns the seamstresses made for her—loose and comfortable, clinging just enough to the curves I know so well.
She catches me looking and smiles, slow and warm.
“You’re staring,” she murmurs.
“Can you blame me?” I ask, crossing the room toward her.
Her cheeks color faintly, but she doesn’t look away. She’s not afraid—not since the Bonding. Not since she truly accepted what we are to each other. What she is to both of us, both me and my Drake.
She used to fear the idea of bearing a child—of being pregnant for all to see. But now…now there’s a different kind of anticipation in her—a quiet eagerness.
She wants a family…with me…with us. My Drake and I both breed her regularly, trying to get her pregnant and she welcomes us both equally, spreading her thighs for my cock and his with eager pleasure.
Gods help me, I’ve never wanted anything more than to see her belly swell and know she’s carrying my child—our child. He will look human but he’ll have a Drake inside him, just like I do and he’ll be able to Shift when the time is right.
My Drake stirs at the thought, a deep, pleased warmth spreading through me. He feels it too—that pull toward the future, toward building something lasting with the woman we both love so much.
Elowen shifts as I sit beside her on the bed, her hand coming to rest on my chest. The moment her skin meets mine, the connection between us flares brighter, clearer.
“You’re thinking too much again”, she says softly—not aloud, but in my head. The words brush through my mind like a whisper.
I huff a quiet laugh.
“Am I?”
“Yes.” There’s amusement in her mental tone now. She likes using our Bond to communicate. “You get that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that says you’re trying to carry the whole kingdom on your shoulders already. You don’t have to, you know.”
I shake my head, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.
“Just thinking about what comes next, sweetheart. For all of us.”
Her expression softens.
“We’ll figure it out together—the three of us.”
“We will,”my Drake agrees immediately. “You’ll be a good king—Elowen and I won’t let you fail.”
I feel her smile widen as she hears him too. it still amazes me sometimes—how easily she speaks with him now, how natural it’s become. There’s no fear in her, no hesitation. Where other women might shy away, might keep their distance from a Drake except when absolutely necessary, Elowen doesn’t.
She welcomes him—welcomes us both.
And she gives herself to us without reservation—not just once, not just on the night of our Bonding, but again and again, strengthening the Bond we share until it feels like nothing in this world could ever break it.
I’ve heard the stories—Drake Shifters who only experience that union once, their mates unwilling to go further, unwilling to embrace that part of them any more than is necessary.
I can’t imagine it. Because I don’t have to. Because I have her.
I cover her hand with mine, pressing it more firmly against my chest, letting the connection deepen. Letting her feel everything I can’t quite put into words.
Gratitude, awe, and love so fierce it still catches me off guard.
“I nearly lost you,” I say quietly. “Almost let you get away.”
Her fingers tighten slightly against me.
“But you didn’t.”
“No,” I agree, my voice going hoarse. “I didn’t.”
Because she chose me, not once—but twice. She saved me and gave herself to me and my Drake and I intend to spend the rest of my life proving that chance she took on me was worth it.
I lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her lips, slow and teasing.
She sighs softly against me, her hand sliding up to the back of my neck, holding me there for a moment longer.
Mine.
Ours, my Drake corrects again, smug as ever.
I smile against her mouth.
“Yes,” I murmur. “Ours.”
And I know, with a certainty deeper than anything I’ve ever known, that what we’ve built—what we’ve become together—will never fade…will never break.
I will love her for the rest of my days.
My wife.
My queen.
My Priestess of the Silver Dragon.