Chapter Thirty-Five
Prince Kiernan
I watch Alaya sleep beside me, purple curls wild across the pillow, her chest rising and falling with soft snores. Our first morning together in our suite, and I haven’t stopped staring at her since I awoke.
We’re all broken in some way. Some just carry a few chips here and there—a life endured and survived.
Others have shattered completely and have to piece themselves back together, often slightly different than before.
Sometimes, a piece is lost forever, leaving us flawed and searching.
Sometimes, the pieces go back together all wrong, and we’re irrevocably changed.
I can’t put Alaya back together; that she must do on her own, however much I wish I could ease her pain.
I know she protects me from the darkest of her emotions, blocking our Bond, perhaps without even realizing it.
The shadows I glimpse through the cracks tell me enough—I’ve walked through my own darkness and recognise its shape.
I felt more than she realises. More than I can name, more than I wish I had to carry. But I’ve made my peace with it—with all of it. Whatever happened in those days we were apart, whatever she thinks she’s protecting me from, she’s worth it. She’s always been worth it.
But right now, watching her stir, eyes fluttering open to a lazy violet gaze, I’ll take whatever pieces of her she’s willing to share.
“You know, that’s kind of creepy,” she says, dimples appearing in her cheeks.
I smile, eyebrows raised, and pull her to me. She snuggles into my side. “You make me sound like a lecherous Elder, not a husband admiring his beautif—” My breath catches as her breasts press against me.
“You’re laying it on thick this morning,” she says, blushing.
“Not thick enough, apparently, if you’re still doubting me.” I love that she still acts coy when she’d had my cock in her mouth just a few hours ago.
Alaya brushes her fingers through the black hairs on my chest. “My emotions are no mystery to you.” Desire makes me tremble under her touch, and she smirks when she feels it. “Are you ticklish?”
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Anticipation thrums in my chest as her hand moves lower, the thin duvet sliding down.
“Here?” Her fingers whisper across my stomach, muscles clenching. “Or what about here?” Moving lower to the V above my groin, fingers brushing gently at the line of hair there.
A sharp intake of breath. I tremble again, and she grins wickedly.
“I think you have your answer, though please don’t stop there.” Her hand moves lower. “Oh fuck!” I hiss as her warm hand grasps the base of my cock, already hardening.
“The great heir of Kaladia defeated by a tickle.” She rests her chin on my chest, laughing softly against my skin.
“Anything you do with those hands could destroy me,” I reply.
In response, her hand tightens and starts to glide up and down my length, slowly. “Any other weaknesses I need to discover?”
“You’re not playing fair. I would tell you anything right now.
” And I would. I’d tell her that I’m scared of bugs, that the taste of carrots makes me heave, and that I secretly spend hours lost within the pages of romance books from the library.
Alaya, the most dangerous weakness of them all. “And you, what makes you weak?”
“You already know.” Her voice is as languid as the teasing hand caressing me.
I stretch down, her thighs opening when my hand searches for the vulnerability between her legs. “I’ll play your game, Alaya, but I always win.”
“Only because I let you. What fun would losing be—Oh Gods,” she gasps, then bites her bottom lip, holding in anything louder.
It’s an unspoken challenge to coax that sound from her. I match her slow strokes, running my finger down her slick lips, applying pressure with each pass to dip into her heat, my thumb swirling her clit.
“I knew waking with you would be a distraction,” I say, leaning down to steal a fleeting kiss, my finger pushing into her, curling to elicit a squeal that vibrates against my lips.
My emotions open and spread over her, and Alaya’s lazy desire bounces back as we enjoy the feel of hands stroking and exploring in quiet harmony.
“I love you.” Her lips press a kiss to my chest.
My fingers lace into her hair. “I love you more.”
In the end, we surrender together. Her body trembles with quiet, breathy gasps of orgasm that I have come to love, while I answer with a single, deep groan as I come.
For this stolen moment, we’re not broken—we’re whole.
The last thing I wanted to do was leave Alaya in bed, but my father had summoned me, and ignoring the King—even when he’s also my father—isn’t an option.
Our relationship has shifted since Alaya returned.
Colder. More calculated. He refuses to reveal how he retrieved her, and I’ve kept my promise not to push Alaya for details.
But rage still simmers beneath my skin when I remember how he left her in Heartwood deliberately, using her as bait to gather intelligence for his own gains.
I knock. The door flies open, and the General’s bulky frame fills the doorway. His face is bright red beneath his fiery beard, his entire body rigid with tension.
“Kiernan,” he grunts, barely a nod of acknowledgment before he strides down the hall.
Whatever my father said to him, it wasn’t pleasant.
I step into the dark office. The King is pacing, muttering to himself about ‘the fucking Equitae.’
“That seemed to end well,” I remark, pulling the door closed behind me. “What’s the Ghost been up to this time? Not stolen the General’s new wife, has he?”
I still blame the General for convincing my father to leave Alaya in Heartwood longer than necessary. Let him suffer for once—let him feel what it’s like to have someone you love in danger.
The King stops pacing and lowers himself into the chair behind his desk, watching me with his cold, calculating eyes.
I slam the book down—the blue leather-bound volume I’d found in the library and taken back from him. Its binding snaps against the desk surface, the sound reverberating in the small room.
“When did you take this back?” His finger stabs at the cover.
“After you dismissed it as useless.” I lower myself into the chair across from him, searching his face for any hint of what he’s thinking. He stares back, unblinking.
“I presume what happened the other day came as a shock to you too, then. Not being able to read Ancient Fae yourself?” His upper lip curls, revealing teeth unnaturally sharp and white against his ashen skin, transforming his cold features into something feral.
I lean forwards, meeting his glare with defiance that burns like acid in my veins. “Did I realise you were going to attack Alaya? No, that was a delightful surprise.”
His eyebrows rise, lips pursing into a thin line. “Ah yes. How are you both settling into your suite?”
The corner of my mouth quirks up before I can stop it—a flash of this morning, Alaya’s body warm against mine. But his interest irritates me. “Since when do my sleeping arrangements concern you?”
“Since she became a Princess of this Court.” His voice is a metallic rasp that makes my skin prickle, each syllable sliding against the next with the slow, deliberate friction of crossed swords. “And I’m still your King. Remember that before you speak.”
“You tried to kill my wife.” I exhale sharply, fingers raking through my hair.
He sinks back into his chair, victory glittering in his gaze. “Did I ever tell you how I got her back?” A slow smile curls at the corner of his mouth. “One of their own betrayed them. A female—jealous, bitter. She handed Alaya and Quinn right into my hands”
My jaw tightens.
“Do you want to know where she was?” he continues, leaning forwards. “Before they brought her to me?”
“Don’t.” My hands shake where they grip the arms of the chair, knuckles white.
His eyes, black and narrow, never waver from mine as his lips curl into something between a smile and a sneer. “She was enjoying the company of two of them, Kiernan. Your wife was fucking your enemies while you were here, pining for her like a lovesick fool.”
Hearing him say it—hearing him weaponise it, twist it into something ugly and cruel—ignites a fury so intense my Gift buzzes beneath my skin.
I slam my fist onto the desktop. It cracks down the middle, wood splintering. Pain shoots through my hand, but I don’t care.
“Your reason for telling me this?” My jaw clenches so tight I taste blood where my teeth catch the inside of my cheek. “You were the one who pushed this Marriage Bond on us. You left her there deliberately. Whatever happened—whatever she did to survive—that’s on you.”
“Is it the Bond that still pulls you between those thighs, or this ‘love’ you claim to feel?” He spits the word ‘love’ with disgust. “Do you not want to know the truth?”
“This changes nothing,” I continue, standing. The scrape of my chair against stone signals the end of this conversation. “She’s my wife. I chose her despite you and that damn Bond. I’d choose her every time.”
His expression shifts—surprise flickering across his face before he masks it.
The King rises, his shadow stretching across the broken desk. His fingers, pale and long, extend towards me, clutching a small bundle of papers folded to sharp, precise edges. “I translated all the Ancient Fae passages. In case you have need of it.”
I narrow my eyes, snatch the papers from his hand, and spin on my heel. Each footfall strikes the stone floor like a hammer as I stride towards the door.
The slam reverberates down the empty hall.
The bundle of papers in my pocket weighs like an anchor with each step I take back to Alaya.
Back to my wife.
Back to the Fae I love, no matter what my father thinks he can use against us.