Chapter 39
KORITHAX
She looks so beautiful when she’s sleeping.
So peaceful. So calm. Untouched, for a few precious hours, by the weight of war and responsibility and grief. Untouched by me, and all the pain and torment I’ve put her through.
Night is the only time I allow myself to come and see her.
When I know she can’t bombard me with questions that I don’t have answers for, when she can’t look at me with that mixture of hope and hurt that splits me clean in two.
When she can’t try to convince me—gods help her—to stand beside her as king.
I watched her speech to the kingdom three days ago.
I stood in the shadows and watched as she addressed our people, as she told them their king had returned.
I watched the way the crowd erupted, how joy rippled through them like wildlife as they held up the triangle of my sigil above their heads.
They were so happy, so relieved. As if my return meant everything broken would suddenly be mended and whole again.
But if they saw me, if they saw who I was now, they wouldn’t cheer. They’d recoil. They’d be terrified of me and of what I’ve become. They’d tell Daisy to lock me in the dungeons and let me rot. And they’d be right to do so.
I was a monster in my own way before I died.
Korithax the fearsome prince. Korithax the ruthless soldier.
The fucking Child of Ruin. But now… now I am something so much worse.
A man split down the middle, sharing space with an ancient evil that delights in suffering.
An entity that whispers promise of destruction and smiles when I bleed for it.
The Void does not enjoy my isolation.
It purrs when I ache from staying away from Daisy, but it wants more. It wants me to destroy everything and everyone around me. It wants to watch me hurt those I love, to watch their pain carve me hollow, and then feast on the hurt I would feel from that, too. It wants me to lose control.
That’s exactly why I’ve stayed away from them. From her.
The Void has changed me in so many ways, but it has not changed how I feel about my little flower.
How my every waking thought still bends towards her, no matter how far I try to pull away.
Her silver-streaked golden hair, catching the light like moonlight spun through honey.
Her ocean-blue eyes that once looked at me with nothing but love and devotion—and still somehow manage to undo me with a single glance.
The soft curve of her stomach I used to rest my hand against in the quiet hours.
The pale stretch marks along her hips and thighs like delicate lightning, proof of life lived, and battles won in a body that has given so much.
The warmth of her skin, always softer than anything in this brutal realm has a right to be.
The way her lips part when she’s concentrating.
The stubborn lift of her chin when she’s angry.
The tiny crease between her brows when she’s overthinking and pretending she isn’t.
The scent of her—florals, clean skin, and something wholly Daisy that no magic could ever imitate.
Even the sound of her bare feet against stone in the early hours that lives inside me like a prayer.
The Void may have remade parts of me, but it has not touched the place where I keep her.
The last time she looked at me, all I saw was pain and fear in her eyes.
That alone was enough to convince me that I needed to stay away from her.
The bond between us is in agony. It screams at me to touch her, to pull her against me and bury my face in her hair and pretend that our world hasn’t shattered beyond repair.
I miss the feel of her plush body against mine, the way she would mould into me so perfectly as if she was carved from the same breath as my soul.
Never in my twenty-thousand years of existence had I ever met someone like her.
Even without the mate bond, I knew she was it for me, that nobody would ever compare.
She was everything I never allowed myself to want. Everything I was taught I did not deserve.
My father made it clear from early on that I was not meant for softness.
I was not meant for love. I was a boy created to destroy, a blade given flesh.
Lovely things were never meant to survive my hands.
And yet life handed me the most exquisite thing in existence, and she didn’t run.
She saw me, saw the monster beneath the crown and the scars and the fire.
And chose me anyway. What a foolish, foolish girl.
I move slowly to the side of the bed, careful not to wake her, and look down at her sleeping form.
Her hair fans across the pillow in soft waves like a halo around her perfectly sculpted face.
Her lips are parted just enough to release quiet, even breaths.
Freckles scatter across her cheeks like sun-kissed constellations, more prominent thanks to the spring sunshine.
Thirty-six. I still count them every night.
Just like I used to when we travelled the realms to make her immortal.
Back when this life felt simpler. Gods. That feels like a lifetime ago.
When my greatest concern was securing a bride to piss off the Six.
When the future hadn’t yet drowned itself in blood.
If I had known then what I know now… would I have left her alone? Would I have spared her this fate? Let her live a quiet, human life untouched by gods, monsters, grief, and war?
I want to believe I would have. I want to believe I was noble enough to walk away.
But the truth is, when I think about it—I don’t think I could have. Her soul called to mine the moment I learned of her existence. Something ancient and inevitable snapped into place. No warning could have stopped me. No prophecy. No bloodshed. No vision of the ruin waiting for us.
No matter what I knew, I still would have gone to her. I still would have reached for her with blood on my hands, and darkness at my back. I still would have made her mine.
Because I am a selfish bastard. Became some loves are worth becoming monstrous for. Because she is the most precious thing this universe has ever created, and even now, I would burn every realm twice over for one more lifetime at her side.
Despite everything—despite the war, the loss, the blood spilled in the wake of our love, despite every terrible thing loving me has cost her—I would do it all again.
I would choose her in every life, in every ending, in every world where my soul can still recognise hers.
I would face every bit of harm and injustice, just to be able to say her name.
Just to be able to call Daisy Sandoval mine.
I stare at her for just a while longer before leaning down and placing a feather light kiss to her forehead.
Her scent envelopes me, the faint hint of lavender that used to feel like home now making my chest ache.
Her scent is now mixed with that of Hell.
The faintest mixture of brimstone and smoke, clinging to her to make her even more addictive.
I allow myself to enjoy it for just a moment before turning to leave.
My fingers barely brush the door handle before her sleepy voice drifts over to me. “Korithax?” she whispers.
I turn to see her propped up on one elbow, rubbing at her eyes with the opposite hand. “Hey, little flower,” I murmur softly, offering her a small smile. “I was just leaving.”
“Stay?” The way she says that single word cracks something open in my hollowed-out chest.
My inner demons immediately go to war. Stay and risk hurting her. Leave and emotionally hurt her regardless. There is no winning here. Not a single outcome that doesn’t leave pain behind.
“Please.”
She says it so quietly, voice rough with sleep and something softer, something needier, that my throat tightens painfully. I press my forehead against the cool wood of the door and force out a slow breath.
“Daisy, I—”
“I’m not asking for anything,” she says quickly. Her voice cracks, and my hands curl into fists at the sound of it. “Just… lay with me. For a little while.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the way The Void coils beneath my skin, alert and listening. Trying to ignore the fact she still wants comfort from the monster she claims as her husband.
I stand there for several more agonising seconds.
Then I give in. Because I have never known how to deny her anything.
I cross the room back to the bed, remove my boots and lie beside her on my back, staring up at the intricately carved ceiling.
For a moment, neither of us moves. The only sound in the room is our breathing, slow and uneven as we lie side by side.
Gods. Why do I feel like I might be sick? Here I am, lying beside my wife and there is a strange fluttering low in my stomach I do not recognise. Something tender and humiliatingly vulnerable.
Am I… nervous?
Slowly, I inch my hand across the mattress towards hers. My fingers hesitate just for a moment, before I extend my pinky and brush it softly against hers. She stiffens and shame slices through me so fast I nearly pull away. Of course I fucking ruined it. Idiot. Fucking idiot.
A heartbeat later, she moves. Her small, warm hand slips into mine, our fingers lacing together. I close my larger hand around her tiny delicate one, my heart rate spiking from the simple contact.
I missed her. Gods, I missed her. Even this, just her hand in mine, sends electricity racing through my veins. The bond between us hums softly, alive with something dangerously close to joy. But beneath it all, The Void closely watches. Assessing. Waiting.