Chapter Seventeen
Ari
The Crown Fits
The bond is a living thing inside me now.
It thrums beneath my skin like a second heartbeat. Glows in my chest like molten gold. Every breath feels different, richer, deeper. Like I’ve stepped into a version of myself I didn’t know I’d been waiting for.
I am Arinaghwyndrelle Caelthrone. Half human, half fae, and mate to the dragon king.
And I am done pretending to be small.
It’s been three days since Malichai ripped the world apart to get to me. I remember it all in flashes. The chains. The crypt. Ravik’s shadow magic crawling across my skin. The moment Malichai arrived, fire curling in his fists, eyes glowing like wrath made flesh.
And then... Forgiveness. Allowing the bond to fully settle over us. I haven’t stopped shaking since. Not from fear but from power.
“Your magic’s stabilizing,” Malichai’s witch says from across the apartment, where she’s brewing another disgusting herbal tonic. “But it’s going to take a while to find your center again. The claiming accelerated everything.”
“I don’t regret it.”
“I didn’t say you should. You just need to breathe through the adjustment.”
“I’m fine.”
She arches a brow. “You shorted out your apartment wards just by sneezing this morning.”
“Okay, mostly I’m fine.” We both laugh.
It’s the first real one since everything went down.
She brings me tea. I take it from her. I sip and grimace. “Still tastes like boiled feet.”
“Beauty is pain.” She winks and I pin her with a mock glare.
“You’re a sadist.”
She winks and heads for the door. “Malichai’s downstairs. He’s been pacing for the last hour. Said he’d wait for you to call, but honestly? He looks like he’s ready to burn down the block.”
“Sounds about right.”
When she leaves, I sit quietly for a moment, letting the silence settle. Letting the new magic swirl around me without fear. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel fractured. I feel whole.
And I know exactly who I want to share that with. I grab a few things and stuff them in a duffle bag before heading downstairs. I find him standing outside like a statue carved from sin and fury.
All black again, suit perfectly tailored, tie midnight blue, probably matching his optimistic mood. He looks up the second I open the door.
I don’t even speak, I just walk straight into his arms, and he catches me like I’m the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Hi,” I whisper.
His chest rumbles with a sound that’s not quite a word, more like a breath of relief shaped into devotion.
“I missed you,” he says.
“I was upstairs for twenty minutes.”
“Still.”
I lean back just enough to see his face. There are dark shadows under his eyes. Tension in his jaw. The kind of exhaustion that doesn’t come from lack of sleep. It comes from caring too much.
“You haven’t rested,” I accuse.
“I can rest now.”
I take his hand. “Come with me.”
We walk. Not far. Just around the corner to the rooftop of The Gin Room. It’s quiet, protected, bathed in moonlight and fae wards the local coven helped me reinforce. We sit together on the stone ledge.
The city hums below and I rest my head on his shoulder.
“I’m not the girl you met three years ago,” I say.
“No,” he agrees. “You’re stronger.”
“Not just that. I know who I am now. What I’m capable of.”
“You were always capable, little flame.”
“I didn’t believe it then.”
He looks down at me. “Do you believe it now?”
“Yes.”
He nods, eyes solemn. “Then it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
“To show them.”
I blink. “You mean the underworld?”
“The entire supernatural council.” He takes my hand again, brushes his thumb over the mark he left on my skin during the claiming. “They need to see what you are. Who you are. What it means to be mine.”
“And what if they don’t like it?”
He grins, all teeth. “Then I’ll burn their thrones and make you a crown of ash.”
I snort. “Romantic.”
“Ruthless is my love language.”
I laugh. And then I kiss him. Soft, slow, and certain. The bond hums and our magic twines. His hands wrap around my waist, pulling me close, grounding me as power rolls between us in waves.
I’m not afraid of it anymore. I am it. Fierce. Fae. Fire-forged.
“Let’s show them,” I whisper.
“Together?”
“Always.”
He kisses me like it’s a vow.
And I know. This isn’t the end of our story. It’s only the beginning.