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I let go of him and pace to the edge of the roof. Darkness is descending on the city, now.
And it feels like home.
“Alana.” Eldrion stands beside me. “My magic.”
“I returned it to you,” I say calmly, lacing my fingers together behind my back.
“Not all of it,” he replies darkly.
I turn to look at him and hold his gaze for a long time. “No, not all of it.” I press my lips to his and kiss him deeply. “I think it’s best I keep a little back for now, don’t you?”
I do not give him the chance to reply.
I leave him on the roof and soar up into the sky. To survey what is now, and forever, mine.
THIRTY-FOUR
Eldrion
Her form appears at the foot of the bed. Alana is sleeping. I get up slowly and move to the window. She follows me.
“What do you want, mother?”
She does not speak.
“Have you come to tell me how proud you are? To thank me for saving our kingdom?”
She closes her eyes. A tear escapes and falls down her cheek, and as it runs down her perfectly smooth skin, it drags a pang of anger from my gut.
“Why are you crying? It worked. You created Alana to save us, and she saved us.”
My mother shakes her head. Her long, silver hair is loose over her shoulders. Usually, she wears it tied up in intricate braids. But she looks different today. “She condemned you,” she whispers.
I look over at the bed. Alana is sleeping with one wing unfurled behind her and one arm up over her head. Her hair splays out across the pillow. She looks like an angel. A fiery angel.
“She took your power.”
“She gave it back.”
“Not all of it.”
“I cannot blame her for that. Why would she trust me?”
“She destroyed everything.” My mother’s wings droop, and her shoulders fall with them. “I was wrong, Eldrion. And I am so sorry.”
“You were not wrong, mother. For once, you were right. And I want to thank you.”
She is crying now. Tears streaming from her eyes. And I hate her for it. Why is she so weak? Now, of all times, when we have taken back what is ours and can protect it for centuries to come. For millennia. When no one will be able to threaten our peace ever again.
“Do not let that devil sleep in your bed, son. Find a way to free yourself from her. Promise me.”
“I will make you no such promise.”
When I look back at the bed, Alana is sitting up, watching us. She tilts her head to the side. “The Lady of Luminael,” she breathes.
She rises quickly and crosses the room as though she is going to pull my mother into a tight embrace. She is wearing a long, flowing white nightdress. It billows behind her as she moves.
But when she reaches us, she stops and opens her palm. Her magic flickers. Her eyes flash. “How dare you show yourself to me?” she asks quietly, firmly, with a level of control that sends shockwaves of pleasure through my entire body. “You are not welcome here.”
