30. Humanity
Chapter thirty
Humanity
For the first time, the nightmares don’t come.
I wake in a quiet peace I haven’t felt in as long as I can remember. Oberon and I are still entwined, our bodies fitting together as if we never parted.
He is already awake, watching me, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles over my bare skin.
At the first sign of my stirring, he shifts, his gaze darkening with something I can’t quite name.
I stretch, offering him a languid smile, and he presses a lingering kiss to my shoulder before nuzzling into my neck.
The simple gesture sends chills dancing along my spine, heat curling low in my stomach.
I don’t think I will ever get enough of him.
The rest of the morning passes in a haze of tangled limbs and whispered promises, the need for him just as fierce as the night before. And he meets it again and again without hesitation.
“Let's see just how many times I can make you fall apart for me,” he purrs, his voice a velvety promise against my skin.
When we finally drag ourselves out of bed, every muscle perfectly sore in all the right places, my legs wobble for a brief moment before I regain my balance. He starts running a bath, and this time, I won’t be alone.
With a gentle gesture, he invites me to join him in the warm water. Without hesitation, I follow, lowering myself into the tub between him and the water, a rush of heat flooding through me as I settle.
I can’t help but admire him. His body, sculpted and honed from years of training, is breathtaking, perfectly chiseled and defined. His face, impossibly handsome, holds my gaze with an intensity that makes it hard to look away.
The messy black waves of his hair fall carelessly, framing his face in a way that only seems to enhance his raw beauty. Everything about him, every detail, is captivating.
After we dress for the day, ready to head downstairs and face the rebellion, Oberon remains tense. He called an urgent meeting to discuss what happened with the mountain clan and the failure to secure any alliances, forcing a change in plans.
Downstairs, Zander and Ash are already waiting. The air is thick with unspoken tension as Oberon’s cold glare remains locked onto them.
“How long are you going to be mad at us, Oberon?” Ash finally asks, attempting to break the silence.
Zander ignores him, instead leveling a hard glare of his own in Ash’s direction. Oberon’s response comes with a bitterness I’m not prepared for. “They took her on your watch.” The words are sharp and unforgiving.
Zander flinches as if it is a physical blow, and for the first time, Ash has no quip, no sarcastic remark, only silence. That’s when I realize the ice in Oberon’s gaze since the moment he freed me wasn’t just anger. It was because of me.
“It’s not their fault,” I snap, unable to watch them shoulder a blame that isn’t theirs.
Oberon arches a brow, his gaze softening just slightly. “They had one job,” he counters, his voice still edged in steel. “To protect you.”
“No one could have stopped what happened. Not even you,” I say firmly. His expression darkens, but I press on, “They were waiting for a moment of weakness. It was a trap from the start.”
A realization strikes me then. I haven’t yet told them everything I overheard while captured. As I recount what I learned, every whispered plan, every calculated move, the three of them listen intently.
When I get to the part where I finally unlock the full depth of my power, Ash shoots me a proud grin.
Even Oberon’s expression shifts, something like approval flickering in his eyes. He knew the demons I had to face to wield that kind of strength. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m not just something to be protected. I am something to be reckoned with.
The moment of pride is short-lived as the weight of a darker truth settles over us. Oberon has an enemy, one who knows of his double life. Someone who holds the power to expose him to the king, to strip him of his carefully balanced control, and force him into a corner he won’t be able to escape.
The realization hits like a cold blade. If the king discovers Oberon’s deception, the rebellion will lose its strongest pillar. He will be labeled a traitor and hunted relentlessly. His position is already precarious, but now, it has become far more dangerous.
Oberon’s jaw tightens, the muscle ticking beneath his skin. He is already thinking three steps ahead, calculating how to counter this unseen threat.
“Do you know who it is?” Zander asks, his voice measured, but there is a sharpness beneath it, a restrained fury at the idea that someone holds such power over Oberon.
Oberon exhales slowly. “Not yet. But they knew exactly when to strike, exactly how to hurt us.” His gaze flickers to me, and for a brief moment, something raw crosses his face. Then, it is gone, buried under the cold calculation of a commander preparing for war. “They’re close.”
Ash runs a hand through his hair, tension rolling off him in waves. “So we have a snake in the nest.”
“A snake with the king’s ear,” I add, feeling the weight of the danger more than ever.
For the first time, Oberon looks uncertain. Not because he fears for himself, but because his carefully built world is beginning to crack, and if it shatters, he won’t be the only one caught in the fallout.
“We need to find them before they make their move,” Zander says. “Before they take the choice out of your hands.”
Oberon nods, but his expression remains dark. “If they know enough to threaten me, they know enough to destroy everything we’ve built.” His gaze sweeps across the room, landing on each of us. “If it comes to that, there will be no mercy.”
Each of us releases a breath we didn’t realize we were holding before stepping into the meeting room.
The three of us take our seats while Oberon makes his way to the front, his expression tight with uncertainty. Worry etches deep into his face, as if he isn’t quite sure what or how to tell the Fae who look up to him, the ones who expect him to lead them toward a better future.
He begins recounting the events with the mountain clan, sparing no detail. He tells them of their forged alliance with the king and the threat that now looms over them. Just as he starts explaining how he failed to secure any alliances, a figure rises from their seat.
A plain Fae, one I could have seen a dozen times and would never recognize, steps forward. A satchel hangs across his meek frame as he makes his way toward the front of the room.
Oberon arches a brow at him but says nothing as the young Fae hands him a stack of parchment. “You should read these,” the Fae says simply.
Oberon quickly unfolds the first page, his eyes scanning the contents before moving to the next. The silence in the room stretches as we all watch, waiting with anticipation.
Finally, he tucks the parchment into his pocket, straightens his posture, and speaks. “The Southern Territories have decided to join us.”
A murmur ripples through the room before someone asks, “Which ones?”
Oberon meets their gaze, his voice steady despite the curve of his lips. “All of them.”
A gleeful gasp breaks through the tension, a rare, unexpected victory. Before the celebration can take hold, another Fae stands. “What did you offer them for their loyalty?”
Another voice chimes in, laced with skepticism. “I thought they refused to join us unless we had something of real value to offer.”
Low murmurs spread, doubt creeping back in as memories of their previous failed attempts to sway the Southern Territories resurface.
Oberon’s face remains unreadable as he lets the silence stretch just long enough for it to settle. Then, finally, he answers, “Humanity.”