Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Their palace room was as spacious as Gisela’s first home in Frosthaven. Subtle notes of rose and sandalwood lingered in the air, instantly invigorating. Light glinted off pale stone floors, veins of obsidian threading through them.
At the center, a grand four-poster bed draped in luxurious black silk dominated the room. An elegant writing desk held neatly arranged stationery and an inkpot, while a plush seating area by the large window offered a view of the palace gardens.
The massive double doors swung closed behind them, and Thorne’s gaze roamed the room like a predator surveying his territory, then softened as it landed on her.
“Not bad,” he said. “Remember when I said we’d move to Aquamere after all this?”
Gisela laughed, a little breathless. “I don’t think we can move into this palace even if we wanted to leave Mystralos.”
Thorne took a step closer, then another, until the space between them vanished and the air went taut.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
“You deserve every luxury every realm has to offer,” he said, voice low and rich, breath warm against her ear. His hands grazed her waist and the small of her back with just enough pressure to make her shiver. He guided her backward until the edge of the bed met the back of her knees.
“You deserve to be cherished,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. “Worshipped.” His lips trailed along her jaw. “Satisfied.” He kissed down her neck, slow and claiming.
She tilted her head back, a soft moan escaping before she could stop it.
The sound did him in. Thorne hooked his hands under her thighs, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist as he lowered her onto the silk. He hovered over her, his eyes dark, studying, memorizing every inch.
Gisela traced her fingers along his chest, over his broad shoulders, and gripped him tightly. The touch unraveled him, warmth spreading as his fingers threaded through her hair.
Their eyes met, and they smiled—their elements intertwining, her coolness mingling with his heat.
He rolled her on top of him, positioning her on his hips. His hands traveled up her back, then down to her sides, igniting a fire in her that had nothing to do with the room’s warmth.
She lifted her top over her head and tossed it aside, abandoning every ounce of restraint.
He did the same, removing the barrier between them.
She leaned forward and bit his lower lip.
With a swift motion, he rolled her back beneath him, bracing himself above her.
Gisela’s eyes met his. An overwhelming surge of desire and longing swelled in her chest until she could barely breathe.
When Thorne lowered his lips to hers, the kiss was tender at first, then deepened into a fervent heat he’d held at bay far too long.
Her hands tangled in his black hair, pulling him closer.
He broke the kiss just long enough to work the fabric of her pants over her hips, discarding them along with his own in a reckless heap. Then he was over her once more, his bare chest hovering a fraction of an inch from hers.
“Wait,” she said suddenly.
Thorne froze, concern etched in his features.
Gisela smirked. “Your mark.”
He chuckled and lifted himself a little higher.
In the groove of his hip was a small, flame-shaped mark. Its tendrils curled upward toward his hip bone.
She reached down, tracing it with her fingertips.
He laced his fingers through hers, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.
Their bodies entwined, and everything else fell away.
Thorne ran his hand down her stomach until it reached the center of her thighs, drawing a low hum of approval.
“Perfect,” he murmured into her ear, lips brushing her neck and collarbone.
She gasped as his fingers entered her, and he groaned a deep, vibrating sound that made her muscles clench.
Her hand drifted down his stomach.
He grabbed her wrist. “No,” he rasped, the word vibrating against her skin. “You first.”
He lowered himself, his mouth settling between her thighs. He circled her with precise, teasing movements—a slow torturous rhythm that stripped away everything but the feel of him.
Never in her life had she experienced anything like this.
It was a focused, relentless adoration that made her world narrow down to the point of his tongue.
She writhed under him, her fingers digging into the sheets as she arched her back, a broken high sound escaping her as she met her release. It crashed over her in waves, leaving her heart hammering against her ribs.
Thorne didn’t pull away immediately. He lingered, savoring the tremors that raced through her before slowly rising. He captured her wrists, guiding them above her head. He pinned them gently to the pillow, his body solid and grounding over her.
“Eyes on me,” he whispered. He waited until her hazy eyes found his. “I need to see the look in them when you realize no one else is ever going to make you feel like this.”
She could only offer a small, breathless smile, because the gods’ honest truth was that she already knew it.
He kissed her—slow, deep, and tasting of her—until the world stopped spinning and her body finally stilled beneath his.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, sliding against her. His lips met hers again, slow and soft, his hips pressing into hers with steady insistence.
“Please,” she whispered.
He smiled against her lips. “I’ve been waiting too long for this, Freckles, I don’t want to rush.” At the sound of her nickname, she balked, but his low, deep laugh sent a shudder through her.
He leaned down, teeth grazing her nipple.
Gisela arched. “Thorne.”
His tongue drew lazy circles around it until she was squirming in anticipation. He trailed his fingers down her stomach until he reached her center once more, circling lightly, the touch only intended to tease her further.
Gisela reached down and grasped him in her hand.
His eyes snapped to hers.
“Please,” she repeated.
He swept her hair from her face, grazing her temple with his thumb. “As you wish,” he murmured.
He pushed himself into her, a low groan caught in his throat as he paused to kiss her until the tension in her hips melted and she adjusted to him.
A stifled sound escaped him, his body trembling above her. “Gisela,” he said, a plea and a promise.
Their lips crashed together as he moved inside her, his thrusts deepening.
Gisela cried out his name, her fingers dragging down his back as they moved together, her body drawing close to release once more.
Thorne clutched her tightly as though she might slip away.
He broke away from their kiss. His breath was ragged, his voice barely a whisper when he said, “I love you.”
“I love you,” she responded.
They both reached their peak, and time stood still. A blast of their elements, the fire of him, the ice of her, merged, wrapping them in a cocoon of searing heat and chilling frost.
Exhausted and trembling, they collapsed into each other, chests rising and falling in sync. Thorne buried his face in her neck and shoulder, arms tight around her.
Gisela’s tears traced her cheeks.
He lifted his head and brushed them away.
A pulse of fire surged through her mind, faint but undeniable. The air around them shimmered, and a subtle warmth and frost threaded through the space as their elements danced with one another.
It was the connection—the Soulbinding—but not in the way she’d feared. It didn’t take her will, it enhanced it, mirrored it, made the choice feel mutual and alive.
Thorne jolted, eyes widening.
“Do you feel—” Gisela started.
“I do.” He lifted himself slightly off her. His mouth opened and closed, hesitant. “Do you want this?”
Her pulse quickened. Normally, she would never have chosen to bind herself to anyone in this way. Her purpose—her duty—had always been to help her people, to heal them. She was needed.
And she needed Thorne more than air.
Maybe this was too much.
But her duty hadn’t vanished. It had only changed, widening into something new. Being a Frostweaver was in her blood, embedded into her very being.
And this connection with Thorne, whatever divine intervention had brought it, meant something profound.
She would choose him.
“I do.”
In that instant their elements merged—not completely, just a touch, but undeniable—and with them, their thoughts.
Soulbound.
Gisela tugged on the thread of fire within her mind, and she felt a tug back.
“Thorne,” she projected.
Thorne smiled. “Yes, beautiful?”
“We can hear each other in our minds.”
“Yes, we can.”
A slow smile spread across her face. She reached for his hand, entwining her fingers with his, feeling the warmth of their bond deepen.
“Ignitus?” Thorne called.
“Eira?” Gisela echoed.
A hum of acknowledgment came through their minds, and they shared a knowing smile.
Thorne rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow.
“Maybe that’s why we could always feel each other’s presence,” Gisela said.
“Maybe,” Thorne replied, eyes never leaving hers.
She reflected on those moments when the sudden chill ran down her spine—her trips to the Snowdrifts, his occasional glimpses as he passed her parents’ shop while she worked, their shared encounters in the village center. Each of these instances had hinted at something more.
As thoughts of Frosthaven swirled in her mind, the connection between them tugged something else loose—her family.
Nerves stirred in her core. She traced the line of his collarbone, the steady beat of his heart echoing the rhythm of hers.
“Do you ever wonder what our families will think?”
Thorne hesitated. “My mother . . . she always wanted the best for me. When my father agreed to the betrothal to Ruby, it was for political gain. The Blackwells are in the King’s good graces, and they support him fully.
I knew my mother was against it but standing up to my father wasn’t something she was ever comfortable doing. ”
His shoulders tensed and Gisela reached out, cupping his jaw. The tension melted from him like snow under the sun.
Thorne leaned into her touch, eyes closing briefly in quiet relief.
“I’ve tried to push thoughts of my family out of my mind since we left Frosthaven .
. .” she began, voice trembling as tears brimmed.
“But the longer we have been gone, the worse I feel. There is so much they don’t know, and it feels like I’m lying to them, you know?
I mean, I guess I am. But I had to. Everything has changed since we left, and I worry about what it will be like when I finally go home. ”
“They’ll welcome you with open arms,” Thorne reassured her, wiping her tears from her cheek. “They love you unconditionally.”
“I know,” she sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “And Elysande. I worry for her too.”
“She did the right thing hiding in Rockridge,” Thorne said, tracing light circles along her stomach. “They won’t be looking for scribes there anymore.”
“I don’t think it’ll be safe anywhere, not with beasts pouring in from Noxis,” Gisela said, shaking her head. “I wish I could talk to her again.”
Thorne pulled Gisela onto his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “We’ll find her,” he said. “We’ll keep them all safe.”
Gisela’s worry tightened its grip. It had been too long since she’d last seen Elysande, and the realm was unraveling more with each passing day.