Chapter 40 #2
The room beyond was nothing like the rest of the Obsidian Keep.
White walls warmed by colorful tapestries depicting forests and mountains and ocean waves.
Large windows—without bars—opening onto a balcony with an unobstructed view of the moonlit sea.
Elegant but comfortable furniture arranged around a fireplace that radiated gentle warmth.
It was beautiful. Peaceful. Nothing like the harsh grandeur of Lasseran’s domain.
“What is this place?” she asked as Khorrek finally set her on her feet.
“Queen Marise’s chambers,” he said quietly. “Lasseran’s grandmother. Vorlag said she was the last ruler who actually cared about her people.”
She moved slowly through the space, her exhaustion temporarily forgotten. Her fingers trailed over the back of a chair, across the smooth wood of a writing desk positioned perfectly to catch the morning light.
Someone had loved this room and chosen each piece with care.
She walked to one of the windows, looking out at the vast expanse of dark water beyond the city walls. Moonlight danced on the waves, and somewhere in the distance, she could see the faint glow of what might be fishing boats.
People. Lives. A whole city full of them, and now they were all…
My responsibility.
The reality of it crashed over her all at once. The goddess’s presence had cushioned her, kept the full weight of the situation at bay. But Freya was gone now, and Thea was left alone with the consequences of what had happened.
She’d helped kill a king.
She’d been declared queen in his place.
She had no idea what she was doing.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered.
The words hung in the air, stark and honest.
“Why not?” Khorrek asked quietly.
She turned to face him, gesturing helplessly at the room, at herself, at everything.
“Look at me! I’m a linguist, Khorrek. I study dead languages and ancient burial customs. I’ve never run anything more complex than a university seminar. How am I supposed to rule a kingdom?”
“The same way you decoded the Beast Curse,” he said, moving closer. “The same way you survived being pulled into an unfamiliar world. The same way you walked into the Stone Circle knowing what it might cost you.”
“That’s different—”
“How?”
She opened her mouth to explain, then closed it again.
Because… was it different? Really?
She’d had no preparation for any of this. No training in portal magic or ancient languages from another world or rituals that required goddess-touched sacrifice.
She’d just… figured it out. Step by step, question by question, using the tools she had and refusing to give up.
Oh, she thought with sudden clarity. That’s what he means.
“You’ve spent weeks studying the records,” he continued, his voice gentle but firm. “You know more about how Kel’Vara works—how it’s supposed to work—than most people who’ve lived here their whole lives. You’ve seen what Lasseran did wrong. You know what needs to change.”
“Knowing what’s wrong doesn’t mean I know how to fix it,” she protested, but her argument was weakening.
“Then you ask.” He moved to stand directly in front of her, his golden eyes warm. “You have Vorlag and the Veilborn. You have Ulric and Jessamin’s support. You have me and the others who’ve lived in this city, who know its rhythms.”
His scarred hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing across her cheekbone.
“You don’t have to know everything, Thea. You just have to care enough to learn. And that…” His mouth quirked in a small smile. “That you’re incapable of not doing.”
Despite everything—the exhaustion, the fear, the overwhelming impossibility of the situation—she felt herself smile back.
“That’s a very diplomatic way of saying I’m nosy.”
“Curious,” he corrected. “Thorough. Determined.”
“Stubborn.”
“That too.”
His smile widened, and something warm unfolded in her chest.
He believes in me, she realized. He actually thinks I can do this.
The thought was both terrifying and oddly steadying. Her mind, never able to stay still for long, immediately started spinning with questions. If she was really going to do this—and it seemed she had little choice in the matter—then she needed information.
“The city administration,” she said abruptly. “How does it work? There must be some kind of bureaucracy, officials who handle day-to-day governance. Lasseran couldn’t have managed everything himself.”
He blinked at the sudden shift, then laughed—a warm, genuine sound that she had heard far too rarely.
“There she is,” he said, fondness clear in his voice. “I was wondering when the questions would start.”
“I’m serious! I need to understand the existing power structures before I can—mmph!”
He kissed her, cutting off her increasingly frantic planning mid-sentence.
And just like that, every coherent thought in her head evaporated.
His mouth was warm and demanding, one hand tangling in her hair while the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She made a small sound—protest or encouragement, she honestly couldn’t tell—and melted into him.
Yes. This. This makes sense.
Nothing else did. Not the goddess’s choice, not the crown she hadn’t asked for, not the massive responsibility that had been thrust upon her.
But Khorrek—solid and real and hers—made perfect sense.
She kissed him back with desperate intensity, her hands fisting in his tunic, anchoring herself to something she understood. The mate bond thrummed between them, warm and reassuring, a constant reminder that whatever else might be uncertain, this was solid.
Real.
Right.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Thea found herself pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her.
Safe.
“The administrative questions can wait,” he said roughly. “You need rest.”
“I need answers,” she countered, but without much heat.
He was right. She was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. The past few hours had been more intense than anything she’d ever experienced, even including her first arrival in this world.
“Tomorrow,” he promised. “We’ll find Vorlag, get you a proper advisor, start figuring out how this city actually runs. But tonight…”
He swept her up again—she was going to have to talk to him about his habit of just picking her up whenever he felt like it—and carried her toward the large bed.
“Tonight you rest.”
She wanted to argue. There was so much to do, so much to learn, so many problems that needed immediate attention.
But as Khorrek laid her on the soft mattress and stretched out beside her, pulling her close, she felt the last of her adrenaline drain away.
She was safe. Khorrek was alive. Lasseran was dead. The curse was broken.
Everything else… could wait until morning.
“I’m still terrified,” she admitted quietly, her cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat.
“Good,” he said, surprising her. “Fear means you understand the weight of what you’re taking on. It means you’ll be careful.”
His hand stroked slowly through her hair, the gesture soothing.
“Lasseran was never afraid. He thought he was invincible, that he deserved absolute power. That arrogance made him cruel.”
“So fear is… good?”
“Fear balanced with courage is wisdom.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You have both.”
She wasn’t sure she agreed with that assessment, but she was too tired to argue.
Outside the window, the moon continued its slow arc across the sky, painting the room in silver light. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the faint sound of celebration still echoing through Kel’Vara’s streets.
They were celebrating her. Their new queen.
Queen Thea.
The title still felt wrong. Too big. Too important. Too much responsibility for someone who’d arrived in this world just over a month ago with nothing but her glasses and confused terror.
But as Khorrek’s breathing evened out beside her, his arms secure around her waist, she found herself thinking about what he’d said.
She didn’t need to know everything. She just needed to care enough to learn.
And she did care. Despite never asking for this role, despite the terror and uncertainty, she cared.
She cared about the people in the streets who’d cheered with such desperate hope. She cared about the orcs who’d been enslaved by a corrupted curse. She cared about the balance that had been restored and needed to be maintained.
She cared about this strange, impossible world that had become more real to her than the one she’d left behind.
I can do this, she told herself, trying to believe it. I have to do this.
Because the alternative—letting Kel’Vara fall back into tyranny, letting all the sacrifice and struggle be for nothing—was unthinkable.
“Thea?” Khorrek’s voice was drowsy.
“Mm?”
“Stop thinking so loud. I can practically hear your mind spinning.”
Despite everything, she smiled against his chest.
“Can’t help it. It’s what I do.”
“I know.” His arms tightened fractionally. “But try to rest. Please.”
For him—for the male who’d sacrificed his own life to save hers in the Stone Circle, who’d stood beside her through everything—she would try.
Thea closed her eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat and the gentle rhythm of his breathing lull her toward sleep.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. Questions about governance and politics and how to rule a kingdom she’d never asked for.
But tonight, wrapped in Khorrek’s arms, safe in rooms that had once belonged to a queen who’d cared for her people…
Tonight, she let herself simply rest.
The coronation would come soon enough. The weight of the crown would settle on her shoulders whether she felt ready or not.
But for now, for this one precious moment, she was just Thea.
And that was enough.