Chapter 60
ROOKE
Lyrae stared down at me, emotions spearing straight through my heart, then turned back to her queen, nothing but cold resolve on her face—the same expression she probably wore before every battle she’d ever fought.
Every battle she’d ever won.
“Don’t claim there is a difference between the two of you. That purpose drives each of you differently, because it does not. Rooke was deemed worthy by the magic—who are we to judge that choice? This is his legacy, the inheritance of his ancestors, which does not belong to us.”
“Perhaps not,” a big, white-haired Fae male prowled up from behind the throne, “but we do not know this male. We do not know anything about his realm, because they chose to live in secret. You’re asking us to risk an entire kingdom on what? Trusting a complete stranger?”
“Yes,” Lyrae said, steady as stone. “Because I trust him. Because I believe in him. Because if we steal the Triune from him and tell ourselves that taking it away is our right, then we become the very thing we’re fighting against.”
Tension rippled through the dais, all those big, powerful males shifting on their feet, faces filled with doubt, yes, but also grudging respect. The kind of respect Lyrae commanded.
“Kaden Rooke has earned my trust a hundred times over,” she continued, her voice carrying clear. “He has proven he can be trusted. He has protected us, brought down Gravelock—not just for his own reasons, but because of the danger Gravelock presented to this realm.”
Murmuring broke out behind the queen, who glanced to the seer.
Torin dipped her head—a single nod of affirmation that had Anaria blanching.
“Gravelock only wanted to claim the Triune in order to conquer this kingdom. That was his goal. Kaden protected Valarian. He has earned my respect, and the Triune deemed him worthy of the magic. I cannot fathom how we could judge him any differently than the ancient power that birthed our kind.”
The words hit me harder than the queen’s harsh scrutiny ever could have.
Earned.
Worthy.
No one had ever stood in a room surrounded by power and defended me, daring anyone—especially a queen—to contradict them. Nobody had ever used those words to describe me.
Words I’d heard to describe my father…but never me.
My throat tightened.
I tried to swallow down the emotion clogging it. Tried to remember that the Triune was my inheritance, my burden, the reason I was here in the first place.
But my gaze kept returning to Lyrae.
To the line of her jaw when she refused to yield. To the temper flashing in her eyes. To the way her hair—dark and thick—fell in a braid over one shoulder like she’d stepped straight off one battlefield and onto another, willing to fight—and to die—for what she believed in.
I didn’t care about the Triune anymore.
Not the way I’d thought I would, like the center of my entire universe, the way those relics had been for my father, and his father before him.
Not compared to her.
Ryland stepped forward, thumbs hooked into his belt, fire burning in his eyes. “Your Majesty, if I may—”
Anaria lifted a hand, silencing him. Her attention remained on Lyrae and me, as if everyone else was irrelevant.
“Tempeste has bled for a millennium,” she said, tone sharpening as her regard fell on me like a blade. “A war fought over power, over a legacy two brothers thought they deserved. What makes you so different?”
Silence.
I climbed to my feet, hands at my sides, spooling the power back into me as I studied this young queen—barely a child in our world, though her shadowed eyes told a different story.
“I am not here to claim your throne,” I said. “Nor any throne of any kingdom. But Lyrae speaks true. The Triune does not accept just anyone from my bloodline—there have been those it rejected. I was not one of them. In my case, the magic chose me, and I was strong enough to withstand its judgment.”
I paused, choosing my words carefully. “I am the last of my line, my queen. I have no family, no kin, no subjects. All I have is myself and a half-dead realm, destroyed by a corrupt male who sought to ruin me, but ruined my family’s only legacy instead.”
“Go on,” she leaned forward on her throne, and behind her, the white-eyed seer drifted closer as well, her sightless gaze fixated on me.
“Once, my realm was beautiful, like yours is now. A paradise, my mother used to say, but now it is a barren wasteland, full of sand and hungry beasts. But Lyrae showed me…the Shadowlands could be different. They could bloom again. Live again, with the right…push.”
“What is your proposal?”
“I will give you the Triune for safekeeping,” I stressed that last word, “if I may use them one final time, to return my family magic back to the earth where it came from. To restore the Shadowlands to what they used to be. Like you did, Your Majesty.” I dipped my head.
“But I must ask for something in return. Lyrae Antares is to bear no responsibility for what played out in my own realm. The events that happened there were a result of a longstanding feud between my family and Lord Gravelock. If anything, she was instrumental in ending that battle swiftly and decisively. I would ask her position in your court not be in jeopardy because of my own…personal entanglements.”
Anaria’s eyes narrowed. “You’re asking if Lyrae can remain in Tempeste? As my commander?”
“Yes,” I said, the word grinding up my closed-off throat. “I would ask she remain part of your court, and nothing about her status changes.”
No, I didn’t want Lyrae here.
I wanted to take her home with me and keep her in my castle forever, but…just look at her. She didn’t deserve to be languishing in a dying realm, because despite my bold request, I had no idea if I could do any of what I’d just claimed.
I thought of the terraces reaching to the sky. The children laughing. The nighttime market under the glow of faelights and the warmth of Lyrae’s hand in mine. The way she’d looked at me like I was her entire world, when I already knew she was mine.
But…
“Yes,” I repeated, louder this time. “I wish for her to not bear any responsibility for anything that transpired in my realm, and then, in two days’ time, the Triune shall be yours. Consider that mission accomplished.”
Anaria held my stare for a long moment. “I’m sending Zephryn back with you.” I swore I heard a low groan of protest from the big shifter—not that I blamed him. “He will observe only, then return with the Triune when you are finished.”
I lowered my head. “That arrangement is acceptable to me. Thank you, my queen. I am looking forward to a long alliance with the Kingdom of Valarian.” And already missing Lyrae, standing right beside me, staring straight ahead, her jaw clenched so tight I worried she might break her teeth.
The seer leaned closer to the queen, whispering in her ear, one hand on Anaria’s shoulder, squeezing tight. But she never took her eyes off me, and suddenly, I could hardly breathe, like my lungs had stopped working.
This was really happening.
I was making my choice.
My kingdom, my legacy, my realm—and all that future would cost me was the female I was completely in love with.
But this was the city Lyrae loved. Her feeling had shone from her eyes as we’d walked the streets—the gentle way she’d smiled at the children, the pride on her face at the repaired homes and high walls, even her sorrow over the fallen, how she’d known every last detail of every place we’d passed.
I had no right to drag her from her home.
Lyrae lifted her chin. “You’re making the right decision, Anaria,” she murmured. “Kaden will not let you down, and neither will I.”
She never looked at me, stiff and tense like that sword she swung so efficiently.
For the first time in my life, I let myself think of the future.
Of building a place where children laughed and lights glowed in windows and people held hands like every night meant home.
And Lyrae—Lyrae might not be beside me, but she’d be here.
Happy.
And that had to count for something, I told myself.