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Rheave plunges deeper, and Stavros drives into me at the perfect angle.
Alek’s thumb flicks faster. Casimir applies his teeth to my nipple.
The shock of so much pleasure crackles through me. I’m lit up from the inside out.
Then the daimon-man pours one more stream of his giddying power through my nerves, and I shatter apart.
My breath hitches, and my body quakes. I grip the arms around me and lock my legs against Stavros’s hips.
The former general slams into me with the shudder of his own climax. It only takes a few seconds more before Rheave gasps harshly and sways to a stop, bowing against my back.
He dapples my scars with the tenderest of kisses. “No one will ever hurt you like this again. Not while we’re here, and we always will be.”
We slowly sag together in a messy and rather sweaty heap. A warm glow of affection spreads through every inch of my sated body.
I love so much, and I’m loved in return. For who I am now, for what I’m doing now.
I’ve moved past the mistakes I made before. I can do something better, something good.
This is all the happiness I ever could have asked for, even if it ends tomorrow.
Thirty-Seven
Alek
Wooden thumps and metallic clinks resonate through the night. The structures our allies hurriedly designed and fashioned the pieces for are coming together all across the field far beyond Florian’s walls.
The builders are working by only the faintest lanternlight in an attempt to avoid drawing too much attention to ourselves. The dim glow gives the scene a ghostly atmosphere.
I stand back from the enormous platform that’ll allow our eventual audience to view the trials, watching it spread out piece by piece across the grass. The wind licks under my cloak, and a shiver travels down my spine, but it’s not only due to the lingering winter chill.
I’ve spent most of my life immersing myself in historical records, chasing down the details of what the world was like and how people lived centuries ago. Now, for the first time, it’s hit me that in this one instance I’m part of real, living history in the making.
The knowledge is terrifying and yet also incredible.
At the rustle of footsteps over the grass, I turn. The few lights still glinting behind the capital city’s walls at this dark hour gleam in the distance, about a mile away.
No aggressive shouts have broken the sounds of construction around me yet, but I know they’re coming.
Ivy stops beside me and studies the terrain between us and the city with a pensive expression. “If we can’t get everything ready quickly enough…”
I grasp her hand. “Don’t even think that. We’re going to make this work, whatever we have to do.”
It’s either that or let Lothar crush Petra with whatever he had planned during his swiftly approaching version of kingship trials. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and he’ll be off supervising his own preparations someplace far from here.
I don’t actually have the slightest hope that’ll be the case. And in some ways, our plans require him to be here, to play his role in the production we’re creating.
Ivy swipes a strand of windblown hair from her face and squints across the flat plain. “People are coming. I can’t tell if it’s the right ones yet.”
I tense up, but a moment later, a messenger rides up ahead of the crowd of shadowy forms.
“The Black Talons are fulfilling their duty,” he announces with a salute. “We’re bringing the daimon who agreed to help. And you’ve already got some spectators on the way.”
Ivy’s shoulders relax just a smidgeon. “What happened at the gate?”
The man’s grin sharpens. “The guards are temporarily knocked out thanks to one of my friends and her very useful gift. It won’t last more than a few hours, but that’ll buy you a decent head start. When we spread the message on your signal, we included a mention that people should leave the city that way.”
I drag in a breath. “We can’t hope that no one loyal to the Order of the Wild will catch the message. We might not have very long at all before they try to interfere.”
