Chapter Twenty-Eight
Legend
I’m standing halfway across the throne room when the sound of stone scraping against marble splits the air. The moment it registers, something in my chest snaps hard enough that the Nightkin growls in warning.
The guards freeze. One of them still has both hands on the carved edge of the first in the long line of thrones.
“What,” I snap, “are you doing?”
The guard swallows. “My King, the coordinator suggested—”
“Suggested what?”
The guard glances toward the others like he’s hoping someone will rescue him from finishing the sentence.
No one does.
“That the throne be moved,” he says finally, voice cautious, aware he’s speaking to a beast that might bite if he moves too quickly.
My vision goes white.
“You mean,” I say slowly, my voice rising with every word, “that someone decided the throne of a King of Rathe should be removed just seven suns after his death?”
The guard opens his mouth, but the Nightkin moves faster than he does.
The darkness inside me surges, magic flooding the space so fiercely the torches along the walls snuff out.
“Legend,” Knight speaks my name like a warning.
Too late for that.
“Do not,” I step forward, my boots echoing across the stone floor while the guards stumble back from the thrones, the scent of their fear thick in the air, “touch that throne again.”
They immediately let go, their chins dropped flat against their chests in the same breath. Not that they’re breathing.
I stop at the base of the steps leading to the dais, my pulse roaring in my ears, but my feet won’t let me go any closer. They’re fucking frozen in place.
The throne room is massive, tall pillars stretching toward a vaulted ceiling that once held banners from every Gifted Game of Rathe, but right now it feels suffocatingly small.
Not long ago, there were only two chairs up there—our father, the king’s, and mother, the treacherous queen’s.
Then he died and the crowns fell on our heads, making us responsible for an entire fucking kingdom whether we liked it or not.
None of us expected it to go this way. We all thought we knew what the future looked like when the time came for father to pass it down. Knight, Sinner, and myself would be the fuckoffs, free-for-all, political bullshit—the disorderly Lords. That left a single king to rule over Rathe.
King Creed Deveraux, firstborn and heir to the throne of dark magic.
My insides stretch tight and I clench my teeth. Guilt, anger, –the desire to die just so I can kick his ass in the afterlife—all eating me up on the inside, threatening to hollow its way out.
“Careful,” the Nightkin murmurs in the back of my mind, his voice more like my own conscience. “You are about two breaths away from her setting those guards at her door on fire.”
“I will beg her to set the entire palace on fire if they touch his seat again.”
“And she will happily agree,” he says thoughtfully, “but that will ruin her surprise.”
Surprise. Right.
That alone is enough to make me breathe out slowly. Sorry, baby.
She yanks on the bond angrily in response, and a small smile twitches my lips.
I close my eyes and drag a hand down my face before turning back toward the room. “The throne stays. It doesn’t need to be fucking moved.”
“The throne stays.” Knight steps up beside me, his expression unreadable even though the grief behind his eyes hasn’t faded any more than it has for the rest of us.
Sinner joins on the other side, arms folded and jaw tight.
Once the guards have all scattered back to the corners of the room, Knight’s hand falls on my shoulder.
“He loved you, Legend,” he says quietly. “He loved all of us.”
Sinner snorts harshly. “And look where that love got him,” he mutters bitterly. “Yet another reason I will never fucking mate.”
Knight sighs and I slide my eyes to his twin.
“In fact,” Sinner continues, pacing a few steps away, the energy under his skin having nowhere else to go and riding him hard for release. “Forget loving or caring, I won’t even allow myself to like anything anymore.”
Knight raises an eyebrow. “You like us.”
Sinner stops to glare. “Different,” he says. “You’ve always known I’d die for you.”
Knight tilts his head. “How is that different than Creed dying for all of us?”
Sinner stares at him, the answer obvious but completely unacceptable.
“Fuck you,” he mutters, then turns and stalks toward the exit, seeing himself out. “Hurry the fuck up, Legend.”
He disappears through the doors just as London steps through them.
She stops beside Knight, and his hand folds over her ass as she looks up at me. “Hey,” she says softly. “None of that.”
“None of what?”
“The brooding.”
“I do not brood.”
“You absolutely brood.”
The Nightkin snorts. “She’s not wrong.”
My brows snap together and she nudges my arm. “You have plans today,” she reminds me. “Good ones.”
Plans. Focus on the plans.
Life.
Second chances.
My mate.
I run my hand through my hair and exhale slowly. “She’s going to fucking hate it.”
London laughs. “Probably.” Her smile softens. “But only on the outside.”
A chuckle pushes past my lips and Knight gives my shoulder a good squeeze.
“She’s going to try to kill me,” I mutter.
“Worth it,” The Nightkin laughs.
I turn toward the doors. “Let’s do this.”
…
Haide
Legend is acting strange.
Not that that man has ever been normal. But there is a difference between Legend’s usual brand of madness and whatever the hell this is.
His bullshit normally comes with smirks, threats, and a very healthy disregard for authority.
I stop in my tracks, head cocking. Literally, that sounds like me.
Huh. We are so fucking the same. How did I not see it?
Whatever, today he’s too fucking quiet.
Focused.
Annoyingly calm. That is his principal power, obviously, but this is different—and exactly why I know something terrible is about to happen—
I step out of the palace doors and my heart stops at the sight.
The usually dark, eerily empty courtyard—just the way I like it—is full.
Like the entire kingdom is here full full.
Not just nobles and guards, but merchants, soldiers, servants, riders, the new dragon keepers—half of Rathe is packed into the courtyard below the palace steps. They fill every inch of the grounds and spill down into the lower terraces like a living ocean of gifted.
“What in the fuck?” I whisper.
My gaze sweeps the area again, disbelief giving way to irritation as I notice the black banners hanging from the palace towers, the torches lining the etched walls, and the massive stone platform raised in the center of the grounds.
A platform that absolutely was not there yesterday.
“What did he do?” I mutter.
I start down the palace steps slowly as the murmuring crowd parts instinctively for me.
Every face turns, heads bowing, and my hands fold into fists.
They’re staring at me like I’m the center of something important.
Which I absolutely do not appreciate.
The air above the courtyard shifts suddenly. I sense not only my beast of a man, but the one connected to my magic, just before the shadow sweeps across the crowd.
Ben the dragon, as I’m officially calling him, drops from the sky. His massive emerald wings cut through the air before he lands in the center of the courtyard with effortless grace a creature his size should never possess.
He dips his head in greeting. He’s dead too.
The crowd gasps, awed to get as close to the massive beasts who normally stick to guarding the skies. I barely notice, because when Ben spreads his wings wide, my mate is revealed.
Legend leans casually against the curve of the massive emerald scale like he hasn’t just orchestrated the most suspicious gathering in Rathe’s recent history.
My eyes narrow, taking him in and my jaw clenches.
The fact that he’s wearing black isn’t unusual—but the tux is.
My gaze flicks slowly from his boots to his shoulders before landing on the smirk stretching across his face.
Legend’s voice slides into my mind immediately. Hello, mate.”
I glare at him from across the courtyard. “What did you do, Legend Deveraux?”
“It’s not what I did,” he replies smoothly and my stomach tightens. “It’s what I’m about to do.”
“Legend.”
He pushes away from Ben’s wing and straightens slowly.
“Come here,” he calls aloud.
My lips pinch.
“Haide,” he continues, voice carrying easily across the courtyard. “Guardian of Guardians. Drakaryth. Future Queen of Rathe.”
The title rolls through the courtyard like thunder, but no one makes a single sound.
He gestures lazily toward the platform. “Come. Here.”
I hesitate, planning how I’ll torture him later if he embarrasses me in front of an entire kingdom, but I step forward anyway.
The moment my foot hits the first stone step leading into the courtyard, my shoe changes.
My gaze drops slowly, taking in the black stiletto, spiked along the edges.
I take another step.
My leather pants dissolve like smoke. In their place a long silk dress flows down my legs, dark as midnight and cut in a way that clings to every curve like it was designed by someone who enjoys watching powerful women threaten violence.
The fabric moves like water when I walk.
My braid loosens.
The tight plait falls apart strand by strand until my hair spills down my back in long dark waves.
Another step.
Something heavy settles onto my head and this time, my entire body jolts to a stop.
My hand lifts slowly, and I despise the way my fingers tremble when they brush across what can only be metal.
A crown.
My insides seem to heat. Flames lick along my spine, and I wonder if they’re visible to everyone or just a sensation deep inside me.
Legend chuckles softly from ten feet away.
“I will fucking kill you,” I mutter, knowing he hears me loud and clear.
My cheeks heat immediately and I hate it.
Every single person in Rathe is watching this.
I don’t care what they think. I absolutely do not care. Except—
These…these are my people, too, now.
I glance across the crowd and thank fuck—it’s Zev who catches my eye immediately.
He winks and drags the gifted under his arm close. I realize it’s Emmie.
My feet carry me farther without permission, the bond pulling me in.
Legend’s smirk fades slightly when I get close enough to glare directly into his soul.
“You did all of this.”
He studies my face carefully.
“I don’t need this,” I add.
“I know.”
“I don’t care about…this.”
“I know that, too.”
I fold my arms and he steps closer.
“I know you don’t want, need, or care, little mate. But I also know that you deserve,” he says quietly.
My chest clenches and I bite my cheek.
“You deserved to be seen,” he continues. “You deserved for this entire kingdom to know exactly who stands beside their king, and who is superior to him in every fucking way.”
My throat tightens slightly.
I hate when he does that. “I don’t need their approval.”
“You will have it anyway.” His hand lifts slowly. “Bond with me, Haide. Here, for our entire kingdom to see. A ceremony before the gods, the fates, and the souls of those we’ve lost.”
My hand shoots out, and he’s quick to catch it, squeezing gently.
Those blue eyes turn white, a golden ring rising in the center, letting me know the Nightkin is here with us. He hurts, too.
He also needs this.
“Let me show the realm the only ceremony I have ever wanted—and will ever truly want is the one where I stand beside you.”
“Don’t start being fucking sweet, Legend Deveraux, I swear to the gods,” I mutter.
He chuckles slightly, dipping his chin.
I take a deep breath and return the gesture.
Jus like that, the “ceremony” begins.
It’s simple and quick, but perfect.
The magic rises around us like the land itself is watching. When we turn together toward the edge of the platform, Legend’s hand still wrapped around mine, the entire courtyard spreads out before us.
“Look to your left, Hellpet.”
I turn toward the cliffs of Rathe.
My breath catches instantly as I spot the massive statue.
A dragon carved from black stone, wings spread wide above the kingdom like a guardian watching the horizon. Its blue scales glint in the night sky when a light is suddenly cast over its shape.
“Thyrix,” I breathe, looking to Legend and back just as fast. “You…oh my gods.”
An opening is sculpted into the dragon’s center, where a single soul stone spins slowly in the air. Its light spills across Rathe like its first-ever sun, only this one is blue. Like—
“He’s home,” Legend’s voice lowers beside me. “A king, watching his kingdom, even in death.”
Creed.
“Idiot,” I whisper softly.
Legend squeezes my hand. “Yeah.”
“I hate you for this,” I breathe.
“I know. But love me for everything else.”
I nod, fighting the sting in my eyes. “If you ever leave me again, I will hunt and end you myself.”
His hands slip into my hair, tilting my head back as his lips press to mine. “You fucking better.”