Chapter 51
‘You’re reluctant to hear what the prophecy says. Why?’ Kyor asks when we’re alone.
I stand by the window of our room, looking onto the street below.
Outside, the evening sun is lowering behind the mountaintops, casting the city in the same luminous red glow we saw that first evening when I became a princess.
Fire. That was what it reminded me of then, but there’s also a gemlike quality.
As if the buildings are made of rubies formed under pressure.
‘Thorn?’ he presses, prompting me to turn and face him. He’s sitting on the bed, sketchpad and pencil untouched by his side.
Slowly, I cross the room to sit beside him.
‘It’s not that I’m worried about what it means for me,’ I tell him. ‘It’s them.’
‘You mean William and Kay?’
I nod. ‘Everything I’ve done since the Retterheld – and even before it – I’ve always had to think about the consequences, not just for me but for Kay.
Every step had to be calculated, the odds considered, so I knew whether it was worth the risk.
During this trip, I’ve had to think about the consequences for William too.
Any diversions, any rest we took, meant leaving him in danger for longer.
And now, every extra day it takes me to get through the Veil is another day that he could potentially be found out and killed.
And I only have four days left with you, Kyor.
Four more attempts to work out this Godsdamn lesson. ’
‘You’ve got this. I know you have. But yeah, that’s a lot of pressure,’ Kyor says.
I shake my head. ‘It’s not just about the pressure.
Not exactly. If I learn what this prophecy says, I’ll wonder whether I’m going to fulfil it or ruin it with every choice, every action.
The way Aulia was speaking… This is an end-of-the-world-type deal.
A war the Gods have been waiting for. And if what I’m required to do goes against keeping William and Kay safe…
?’ I sniff, fighting the heat that’s building behind my eyes.
‘Then I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it.
I’ll have to choose. The Last Prophecy or my family.
My people – my duty – or my family. I wasn’t raised like you and Benny…
I can’t— I won’t do that.’ I shake my head.
‘If you won the Retterheld, you were going to end the Rottings, end the war with the Issen. World fucking peace was your goal. And if Benny or Llin won, they were going to gain independence for the whole of the Eastern Isles. And me? I just wanted my magic back, my status back. I feel even worse for winning than I did before.’
Kyor props himself up on one arm. ‘Well, don’t,’ he says firmly.
‘Etta chose her winner for a reason. And maybe for this prophecy to come to pass, you needed your magic back. You needed to become her child of one. Maybe you thought small back at the gifting because you needed to, but now, Rose … you need to know that prophecy. Besides, knowing it might actually help you keep Kay and William safe.’
‘Or it might do the opposite,’ I reply.
‘But we don’t know that, and won’t know that, not unless you face it.’
As my eyes lock on his, I remember how close I was to losing him.
Again.
Had Orla not managed to bring him back, I would never have kissed his lips again. Never run my hand across his body. I shift closer, my fingers trailing slowly up his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath mine.
‘You’re still not forgiven for dying on me, you know,’ I whisper.
‘No? Well how about I work on earning some of that forgiveness?’ he replies, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck and pulling me towards him as he lies down on his back.
The kiss starts slow, but there’s a quiet urgency beneath the surface, like everything we didn’t say before is finally being allowed to exist between us.
No secrets, no lies, nothing between us but the fabric we urgently need to remove.
My fingers fumble on his shirt, and he helps by sitting up and peeling it off, revealing broad shoulders, muscled arms, and the leaf-like scar that will always be a symbol of his madness and devotion.
A symbol of how close I came to losing him.
I trace the line of his chest, my fingers brushing over the pattern, and when I place my palm across the scar, his steady pulse pounds beneath my touch.
‘You scared me so much.’
‘I know.’ His hand covers mine, pressing it more firmly against his heart. ‘I’m sorry, Rose. I won’t do that again.’
I believe him.
That’s the difference now.
I lean in again, and this time the kiss deepens. His grip tightens at my waist, and he pulls me flush against him, the solid reality of him grounding me completely in the moment.
No fear, no doubt, just this moment.
And still too many clothes.
With an incredible lack of finesse, I push myself off the bed, and as I reach for the hem of my top, Kyor props himself up on his elbows, his attention solely on me.
The act stops me in my tracks. The weight of his gaze. The intensity in his eyes.
It’s different now. Not just hungry in the way it might have been before, but focused, intent. Like he’s seeing me properly.
All of me.
I take a slow breath, then reach again for my hem.
I don’t rush.
I peel the top upwards, the silence between us growing heavier with every inch revealed, until the garment rises over my head, slips from my fingers, and falls away.
His eyes darken, pupils widening with such desire, and I find myself struggling to swallow.
Steadying myself, I move to my trousers. My fingers are even slower this time, deliberately so, brushing my own skin as I slide the fabric down, acutely aware of him watching. Of the way his breathing has changed – deeper now, heavier.
‘You’re enjoying this far too much,’ I tease.
‘You have no fucking idea, Thorn,’ he replies, his voice rougher than before.
That alone sends a shiver down my spine.
When my trousers reach my ankles, I kick them away. I then hook my thumbs at the top of my underwear, and millimetre after millimetre, I push the knickers down, the deliberate unhurriedness of my movements agony for both of us.
In the near silence of the room, I can hear every appreciative groan he can’t quite suppress, every hitch of his breath and low moan that catches in his throat.
When I finally stand naked before him, I don’t immediately move.
I let him look.
Really look.
His eyes travel over me slowly, reverently, and my chest tightens at the expression on his face.
Not just desire.
Something deeper.
‘Gods…’ he breathes, the word barely more than a whisper.
The chill in the air has already hardened my nipples as I take a step towards him.
Then another. By the third, I’m close enough to appreciate the way his chest rises and falls, the way his hands flex against the bed like he’s desperately holding himself back.
He’s not sent so much as a single spark flittering across my skin because this moment isn’t about our powers. It’s about us. Just us.
‘Still watching?’ I ask softly.
His gaze snaps back to mine, intense and unwavering. ‘You? Always.’
I smile at that, believing the whisper of promise between us. A promise of a future.
‘You’re so fucking beautiful, Thorn. Come here,’ he orders.
For a split second, I hesitate. I consider teasing him a little more, but we’ve done enough teasing in our time together.
I climb onto the bed and push him onto his back.
As he lies there, sprawled out, I crawl over him.
The rough fabric of his trousers rasps against the softest parts of my skin, and beneath it, his cock strains.
His eyes are still locked on me as my hands slide up into his hair, tugging slightly, and he lets out a low breath against my mouth that sends a shiver down my spine.
‘Rose…’ he murmurs like he’s not quite sure whether to stop me or pull me closer.
I choose for him.
Shifting, I slide down his body and undo his trousers. The instant his cock is free – thick, hard, and ready – I don’t hesitate to take him in my mouth.
‘Fuck,’ he groans. The gravel of his voice only adds to the wetness between my legs as my lips run up and down his length.
I’ve taken as much as I think I can when he threads his hands through my hair and pushes down gently on my head.
Yet more of his length fills my throat as I swallow hard against his thickness, my jaw stretched as wide as it can go.
‘Fuck, you’re amazing, Thorn, taking me like this,’ he purrs. ‘Tell me, does it get you wet sucking my cock?’
Gods help me, but it does. I’m so slick for him it would be embarrassing if I gave a fuck about anything but taking in as much of him as I can, which is exactly what I do.
He keeps the pressure on my head, adding a little more each time my lips descend down his length, forcing himself deeper and deeper into my throat.
This is what I need. I need to worship him, to devour him, to show him everything he is to me. Need to feel him come in my mouth. Need to hear his release and know that I’ve drawn it from him.
He moves to pull me up to his mouth, but I hesitate. He’s worshipped my body enough times on this journey, using his mouth to tip me over the edge into ecstasy. Now I want to do the same to him. It’s my turn.
‘Thorn…’ His head falls back as I quicken my pace, and I already know it won’t take long. Every movement of my mouth, every brush of my tongue against the hot, hard head of his cock, has his muscles tightening.
‘Fuck, Thorn, you’re going to make me come if you keep that up.’
I don’t respond with words. I can’t. Instead, I close my mouth tighter, sucking all the way to the dripping tip before taking as much as I can again, even faster.
He grips my hair so tightly it pinches my skin, but that pain doesn’t come close to deterring me. Instead, a groan rumbles all the way through my body, primal and uncontrolled and just the thing to push him over the edge.
‘Thorn… Thorn… Fuck!’