Chapter 65 Truths #2
“Sevrin heard that she conceived from a single encounter and decided she would suit his purposes.”
“For her fertility.”
“And for her father’s wealth,” Colsar adds. “And because she appeared compliant with his tastes and could provide an heir...albeit not one by blood.”
I arch a brow slowly. “So she lies with other men for his pleasure?”
“I am not in their chamber,” Colsar says calmly. “I know only what has been his pattern. And I know, without doubt, that your sister is not someone he truly desires.”
He sighs. “Sevrin’s tastes have always leaned…unconventional, so one can never be entirely certain.”
My stomach tightens.
“He became obsessed with you the moment you entered this palace,” Colsar continues.
“He would have cast her aside if he could have. But he did not know about the mark then. He needed security. He believed you would never allow another man near you for the sake of conceiving, or could not bear the thought of it.”
“And perhaps,” Colsar adds, a dry sound in his throat, “he hoped you would continue to despise me. That once you carried my child, I might be persuaded to give you up.”
A laugh nearly escapes me.
Yvara spent years calling me a whore’s daughter, punishing me for a marriage she believed never happened, and now she is parading an heir that may not even carry the King’s blood. I used to think survival was enough. I was wrong.
I slide my hand up his chest and pull him closer until our mouths almost meet.
“Let him try,” I say quietly.
My thumb traces his jaw, already certain he belongs to me.
“I do not want his throne,” I continue. “I want all of them.”
His brows lift, intrigued.
“Rathmor. Shalvar. Every border.” I take his finger into my mouth and bite down lightly. “I want to sit so high no one ever dares touch what is mine again.”
“And what is yours?” he asks.
“You,” I answer without hesitation. “And the children I am going to give you.” The words do not frighten me. They feel inevitable.
“I will give you everything,” he murmurs, brushing his mouth against mine. “But before my Asha Bear begins conquering kingdoms, she needs to understand the power she already carries.”
I arch a brow. “Enlighten me.”
His hand drifts to my throat, fingers brushing first over his ring where it hangs against my skin before settling against my mother’s pendant beneath it.
“When I had your mother’s necklace repaired, I had it examined. It is not Veynar work.”
“Where?”
“Alarna.”
The name stirs memory. The veiled kingdom behind wards and politics, refusing to choose sides while others circle it like wolves.
“Shalvar borders it,” I say.
“Yes.”
His fingers graze the metal again.
“The crest hidden beneath the damage is Alarnan. I have an archivist tracing the lineage. If you came from there, we will know. Whatever was concealed will surface.”
“We will uncover your past,” he says. “But understand something. I am your future.”
“I want my past,” I reply softly. “But make no mistake, no hidden lineage could draw me from you.” My hand lifts to his chest, feeling the heat beneath my palm. “Whatever name I carried before this one, whatever blood waits to be uncovered…it does not claim me more than this does.”
He watches my face, searching for doubt and finding none. “Can you live with a man who is this captivated by you?” he asks.
His mouth brushes my shoulder. “Obsessed.”
His lips move to my throat. “Consumed.”
He kisses me slowly. “There are no words sufficient for it. Not even love.”
A slow smile spreads across my mouth. “Your obsession is not the problem,” I tell him. “I am just as consumed by you.”
His hand tightens at my waist, something dark and satisfied moving through his expression.
“It is the rest of the realm that should be afraid,” I continue softly. “Because if you are ever taken from me…”
My fingers knot into his hair. “I will burn everything between us to find you.”
His breath deepens.
“And if anyone ever hurts you,” I add, leaning into his ear, “they will not live long enough to apologize.”
My voice lowers further. “You are not alone anymore. There are no more cages."
The King vanishes. The beast answers.
“Then burn it,” he murmurs against my mouth, his voice roughened by promise. “But you will never have to burn for me alone.”
I bite his shoulder in answer, not gently.
“You once told me you were insatiable,” I whisper, dragging my mouth along his skin. “Show me how badly you crave me. Show me you are still hungry for me…even after having had me.”
The sound he makes is low and dangerous, and in the next breath he turns me onto my back in one controlled motion, bracing himself above me as though I am both something to protect and something to conquer.
My nails trail down his back, not to wound but because I need him marked, need proof that he is here and real and mine.
He exhales against my mouth before claiming it again, deeper this time, slower, as if he intends to prove something without words.
“I told you before. I have only one King,” I say softly, lifting my mouth to his ear, my hands still resting against his chest. “Tell me what you want from me now so I can obey.”
I hold his eyes as I speak the next words, not coy, not uncertain.
What would you like, Majesty? “Should I beg? Scream? Or perhaps—”
A growl vibrates through his chest.
I brush my lips against his hand. “Well?”
“Scream,” he says simply.
And then he turns me onto my stomach.
The rest of the evening passes in quiet.
We dine in a smaller dining room off the main hall, the doors closed, though the palace still finds its way in.
Servants move with unusual care, their eyes lowering too quickly when they approach, then lingering a moment longer when they think we will not notice.
I cannot tell if it is because we were heard or because word of his confrontation with Sevrin has already spread. Perhaps both.
Colsar eats little. When the servants leave, his hand finds mine across the table, his fingers tracing slowly along my skin as though grounding himself in something simpler than the world outside the door.
When dinner ends, he rises and draws me with him. “Come.”
We walk the gardens as evening deepens, the last of the light fading. Lanterns glow along the paths, and the farther we go, the easier it is to breathe. The palace remains behind us, present but distant, its weight lessened beneath open sky.
“They are watching us,” I say quietly.
“They always are.”
“This feels different.”
“It is.”
We continue along the path, and after a while his voice changes, quieter, more inward.
He tells me about Shalvar, how the mountains rise high enough to catch the clouds, their peaks veiled in snow even when the valleys below begin to thaw.
The air is cold and clean, the kind that fills the lungs and clears the mind.
“It sounds beautiful,” I say.
“It is.”
I study him for a moment. “Do you love it there?”
“Yes,” he answers. Then he steps in front of me, drawing me to a stop beneath the dim glow of the lanterns. “But I love you more.”
I don’t trust my voice to answer. “More than anything, Asharin,” he says quietly. “I love you.”
He doesn’t give me time to answer before his mouth finds mine, the kiss deepening with a certainty that leaves no space for doubt.
He leads me off the path, toward the far edge of the gardens.
Ivy climbs over the frame of a small gazebo tucked away from the main walkways, half-hidden in the dimness.
Inside, he pulls me close, and whatever control we held onto during dinner dissolves. The gazebo is exposed, the light unforgiving, and if anyone looks this way, they will see. I know it, and I make no move to stop him—let them.