CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Verena
A RUSH OF WIND TORE AT MY FACE as my body fell. And fell.
And fell.
Ronan—His name scraped up my throat, though no sound came with it. A plea I hadn’t meant to make.
Why him? Why expect rescue from the very man I swore to loathe?
My arms thrashed at empty air. And I kept falling. He wasn’t coming.
So, I reached for the only savior I had left.
Viper. The word slithered from my lips, not a scream this time either but a low summons, steadier, desperate in another way. I need you.
It rose, power drawing wild around the puncture in my heart, sealing what it could, cold tendrils licking into my blood.
How many more times could I summon it before it stole me whole? Each call was another chain tightened, another piece of myself offered. And still, what could it do against gravity, against the certainty of stone waiting below?
Darkness swept over me. A vast shadow swallowing the world, blocking out the pale sun. I forced my eyes open, one last look before the end—
I laughed through the blur of windblown tears. Because it wasn’t the trees, or fate coming to claim me.
But wings.
Spanning the horizon until it broke.
The force of them rippled the air, sending dust, smoke, even awe tumbling.
And there, diving from the mountain, his ancient flame redefining the sky, was Ronan D’Vyre—Selvarra’s Harrowed Prince coming to save me.
If I thought he was dangerous in his Fae skin, his dragon form was the inhale before oblivion. Lethal in every line, every glint of obsidian scale, all built for war, for fear.
And gods, he was beautiful.
Electricity moved between us, a tether I could neither see nor sever, crackling through my chest as my arms reached toward him. His wings tucked tight as he dove, the air bending for him, the mountain trembling at his descent.
In the blink of a breath, his form filled the sky above me, one claw flexing, impossibly careful as it reached—
And caught me.
The fall ended in a violent jolt, pain spearing through my core. The distance between land and sky grew again as he lifted me higher toward the clouds.
Ronan had come. He had shifted here, in Ryuu. The realm now claiming its heir. A truth he had fought to outrun. A crown he had sworn to refuse.
And he broke it.
For me.
Roughness scraped against my hand, something solid pressing into my back. Stone. I was on the ground.
The sky above wasn’t dusky anymore, but bright, brighter than it had any right to be. It beckoned, as if I belonged more to it than to the vessel below.
A metallic tang flooded my mouth, thick and choking. Blood, and too much of it. My fingers twitched, fumbling for the sword I swore was still lodged in my heart. But my arms were dead weight. Useless.
Fuck. Looks like someone just won their bet.
“Verena…” Callum’s voice broke somewhere beside me, frantic. “No. Fuck—” It wasn’t just worry anymore, it was grief. Maybe even forgiveness. His hands tore fabric from his sleeve, pressing it hard to the wound.
The Viper stilled, no longer raging, but circling, curling tighter, a serpent coiling to sleep.
Save me, I begged it.
The answer came cold across my soul. Save yourself.
The world turned black around us. The kind of darkness that wrapped you in arcane stillness. A roar tore from it, erupting from a cloud of smoke. So guttural, it turned the realm silent just as the cold seeped in.
The battle, the air, everything halted as Ronan arose.
Even half gone, I felt him around me. Heat and shadow seeping into my skin, winding tight like an embrace.
Maybe it was. Maybe he was holding me. I didn’t mind.
Elysian strode through the dark veil, a pale ghost in a sea of Ronan’s living smoke. He knelt close. “Internal damage is unknown. But she’s lost too much blood. He took the blade before he bolted, but the nix has already taken enough.”
“Well,” I rasped, my vision tilted. “Saves me the trouble.”
Callum ripped another strip from his tunic, replacing the cloth already drowned in red. “Her bag, there’s tinctures in there. Quick, check her pack.”
No one moved.
Ford’s voice broke through, too loud. “Callum, I don’t think a tincture’s fixing this.” He pressed a hand to his gut, wincing as Nezra smacked him hard in warning.
I couldn’t feel it against my skin, but I could recognize Ronan’s hand moving to my shoulder, his thumb stroking, gentle where everything else was chaos.
His heart was racing, drowning out the rhythm of terror within my own, as he asked, “Where?”
The world dimmed, sound becoming muffled, fading, and distant.
“I haven’t tracked the scent yet.” Elysian’s voice altered, tinged with something like remorse slipping through as he rose.
Callum dropped his chin, swallowing, before rising himself. “Is she going to be okay?”
He had a tell when he was scared. His voice would squeak, just barely. I used to tease him for it growing up. Now, I realized just how many times he panicked for me.
I should have told him I forgave him. That he was the leader, not me. He was right to make choices without me. I needed to tell him...
“Fuck.” His breath hitched when no one responded. “Someone say it.” Flames grew in his eyes, lighting the gold on fire as his voice cracked. “I need to know if she’s going to survive this.”
Ronan bent over me, his outline blurred. “I didn’t see his face.” Then only one word, like gravel. “Who?”
I couldn’t feel my body, but I could feel him. My mouth opened, nothing but knives ripping my throat raw, but I forced sound through. “One,” the word broke, barely a whisper, “eye.”
Why wasn’t Callum just looking, reaching into my memories?
“I can’t, V.” His shoulders folded in. “It will kill you faster.”
Perfect. They all agreed I was dying.
Ronan’s glare met Elysian’s as he lifted a finger toward him, deep ruby glistening at the tip. “Enough?” Elysian inhaled, then nodded once, Ronan’s demand coming quietly after. “Alive.”
Even through the numbness, his voice made me shudder.
Elysian gave another nod, and vanished.
“Look at me,” Ronan murmured, too gentle for even him. “I need you to stay awake. Do you hear me? You don’t get to leave, not like this.” His voice became swallowed by the cavity rising in me.
The world tilted, my body sinking further into the black. A light flickered above, hidden in the clouds. The sun, maybe. Though its radiance gleamed like a star.
A secret one, seen only by me.
I swallowed. Slower, heavier, tasteless now. I swore I felt a tug of clawing fire writhing, pleading from Ronan’s direction. His power, his soul even, reaching for me.
It wasn’t enough. The curse seeped in, gliding over my skin, my head. I watched it from inside my own mind. Black veins protruding over cracks in my skin, oil spilling from them, as though I’d already shattered.
Light leaked from the breaks and without warning, I was weightless again, drifting, up toward the gleaming star…gone—
The Viper lunged.
A gasp ripped from me, my lungs sucking in air through a breath that overwhelmed me. The world was clearer again, sharper, but my limbs remained numb.
Had I just…died?
“The land, Ronan.” Killian murmured from above. “The Bale is too close. No one can replenish their magic quickly enough. Especially her.”
His words cut like truth, and I hated them for it.
He was right. No wonder the soldiers hadn’t returned after Ronan landed. The Bale had drained the marrow from the world itself here.
“You’re dying.” Magic crackled at Ronan’s fingertips. “I can save you. But I need you to stay awake. I need your consent.”
Ronan, the deadly Wraith, wanted to save the cursed demise of Selvarra? What a fool, I thought.
But I didn’t say that. Instead, I said, “Death sounds peaceful.”
And gods, it did. That moment when my soul slipped loose, unburdened for what felt like my last heartbeat, the worries had drifted away with it.
A growl tore from him, close enough that his canines brushed my ear. “It is not your time. Not even close. Say yes.” His knuckle dragged across the scar on my cheek. “Say yes so I can fucking save you.”
The darkness I kept had dragged me back from the edge, but my body still bled out beneath his hands as my heart slowed beat by beat. Oblivion beckoned, soft and sweet. Too easy.
“Look at me,” he said. “Focus on me.” His whisper enveloped itself through me, desperate and aching. “I need to save you, Verena.”
My lips twitched into a broken smile. It sounded so beautiful coming off his tongue. My name. Like it was everything.
If only because he demanded it to be.
“Look at me,” he begged.
A spark burned inside me. Faint, fragile, but there. His voice had lit it when he said my name, reviving it from everything that had weighed it down. From his mouth, it wasn’t doom. It was a reminder of promise.
Maybe in another life.
A single shriek split the air, followed then by frantic screams. “Verena, no—”
Elva. She shoved Ronan aside, dropping to the ground, her hands frantically cradling my face.
I couldn’t feel them. That I would miss. Her tunic was streaked with mud, only mud. Killian hadn’t lied. Elysian had kept her safe.
“Save her.” Elva’s finger stabbed the air toward me, looking at Callum, at Ronan, her voice iron-willed. “Now.”
Oh, so she could be assertive. Way to save it for when I’m dying.
Ronan brushed curls from his brow, shadows sunken in the lines of his face. I had never run my fingers through that silk.
“I need her consent,” he said. “Without it, it’s not viable.”
Elva’s face returned to mine, closer, her sea-glass eyes flooding me. “Verena, you stubborn mule, don’t you dare leave me with this lot of savages. Please." Her words trembled. “Please.”
Her begging shattered something inside me. Then rebuilt it. The spark flared, deeper than death itself, reaching upward inside me in recognition. A thread of life tangling with the curse, challenge woven into its fibers.
The world thought it would take me. The gods, the curse, that fucking blade. I had not survived this long to end here. Not like this.
One look at Elva’s face, and just like that death would have to try harder to claim me.
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure the word passed my lips. But it roared in my head, louder than pain, louder than the dark, because she still needed me.
Ronan leaned in, his hand stroking gently over my tangled hair. “A blood oath. I’m going to save you with a blood oath.”
“Okay.” The word rasped out again.
I didn’t care what it meant. My eyes had slid shut, the falling star trapped behind them. I heard the blade kiss his palm, the slice of steel through flesh.
I heard the murmur of words too old for me to understand. Then the press of his hand against mine, hot and wet, our blood intertwining as he forced my fist closed around his.
I never felt the cut he carved into me, but I felt everything else. It answered throughout me, a surge beneath blood and bone, beneath the very ether of my being. A tether stitching his soul into mine, rushing like fire, like balance, like a promise I could never undo.
I wanted to gasp at the force of it, at the way my body bent to that bond. But pain flared, searing, stitching, burning, as my wound knit together with each whispered vow.
Elva’s hands flew first to her mouth, then to her throat, clutching the pendant at her neck. “What have you done?”
Ronan’s hand never left me. His fingers drifted tenderly from my temples, down the curve of my cheek. I heard him through the dim like a beacon, somewhere distant like a dream.
Live, he said. Stay with me.
I followed that voice, through the dark, through the ache, into somewhere new. Somewhere remembered.
His forehead pressed to mine, our mingled blood sealing us together, palm to palm.
I’ve got you.
The words thrummed inside me, not carried on breath but inside my skull, inside my being.
I’ll always have you.
And for one fragile, treacherous heartbeat, I let myself believe him.