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Then more joined in. “Mizrah. Mizrah. Mizrah.” It was a low chant, slowly gaining strength.
My gaze found Hava closer to the throne near other servants of the palace. I blinked away the emotion as they chanted “Mizrah,” the acknowledgment that I was accepted by the people of Silvantis, by Northgall itself. Tears streamed down Hava’s heart-shaped face.
I came to the throne but did not turn to face Goll as Dalya had instructed. I must walk the full circuit of the room before presenting myself to him. I passed Dalya on the far side of thethrone, her eyes shining with emotion, a sincere smile on her face. She was complex, but I felt it to my bones that she was genuinely happy in this moment. For me or for Goll or for her people, I wasn’t sure.
As I rounded the other side, my gaze landed on some of the royal council, most of them chanting. But not all. The gray-haired elder Bozlyn chanted my name, his gaze respectfully on the ground. But the other elder, Kellock, did not. His eyes bore into mine, his jaw clenched, his disapproval blazing clear and bright.
Yet no one paid him any mind. Everyone else chanted my new title over and over again as I continued to close the circle. Their expressions were lit with an array of emotions—happiness, excitement, indifference, even confusion. Some appeared puzzled that a moon fae princess was indeed about to become their king’s mizrah. But Kellock was the only one defiantly disapproving of me that I could see.
Ignoring him, I completed the circle back to the entrance of the throne room. The chanting and drumbeat continued as I turned to face Goll, then increased in tempo, growing louder, as I walked down the center of the room. A line of black chalk encircled a large white velvet pillow, demon runes scrawled the perimeter of the circle.
Slowly, I lowered to kneel upon the center of the white cushion, staying upright on my knees, my arms at my sides, my chin held high as I stared at Goll.
The chanting and drums ceased at once. No sound at all, not even a whisper as Goll drank me in, still sitting tall upon his throne. He was the embodiment of power, his magick already humming in the air, encircling me where I knelt before him.
Then he stood and took slow, steady strides toward me. He stopped before me, reaching down and cupping the bottom of my chin. He held my gaze for an eternal moment. Then another,time stretching while he lingered over my face with intense longing. The sliver of golden fire around his serpentine pupil glowed brighter than I’d ever seen, the ice-blue of his eyes an otherworldly blaze. I was hypnotized, caught in the eyes of my king.
Yes,myking. I was more certain than ever now.
When he spoke, his voice rumbled loud and deep for all to hear. “Vix is here within these walls of Vixet Krone. He guards and keeps the realm of his demon kin.” Still cupping my chin, he swept his thumb along my jawline, his intense stare burning hungrily. “He gives the king the right to rule. He gives him his beloved, fruitful treasure.” His voice softened when he repeated, “My treasure.” Then his voice boomed loud again, “I choose Tiarrialuna Elzabethanine Hartstone, daughter of the moon fae of Issos.” Then softer again, his words only for me, emotion swelling in his eyes, “I choose you, Una.”
My pulse pounded in my throat, filling my entire body with wild sensations of excitement, elation, and dread at the public act to come, I smiled shakily up at him, ready and willing.
He let go of my chin as he took a step back and raised his arms at his sides, palms up, his biceps flexing. “Etheline!”
Feyfire ignited in his palms then leaped to the stone floor and wound around the perimeter of our small circle, enclosing us within. The flames licked higher and higher as the roar of the crowd rose in the domed throne room.
When there was a wall of flame high above the figures barely discernible on the other side, Goll stepped toward me. He gripped me by the upper arms and lifted me to my feet, his expression hard and feral but his eyes shone with urgent concern. He pulled me against his body, and I gripped his bare waist.
“I choose you, Una,” he repeated as he lowered his head.
My fingers curled against his skin, unaware somehow that he would kiss me, that he’d want to kiss me. My mind had been filled with the act of copulation in front of everyone, I’d not expected him to want to kiss me.
But when his lips brushed gently against mine, a flare of need burned hot through my veins. He coaxed my mouth apart, his lips warm, enticing a small noise from my throat. When I opened wider, he slanted his mouth to mine, his tongue sweeping inside.
My mind suddenly felt light, my entire being wrapped in this kiss, this luxurious warmth spreading through me. His arms slid around my back and waist, pressing and holding me close, dipping his head low to reach me.
I stroked my tongue into his mouth, sliding against his fangs, eliciting a groan from him. It rumbled in his chest, teasing my bare breasts, my nipples tight and aching. I whimpered when he released my mouth to kiss and nip down my neck.
Then I remembered.
I stiffened, wondering if this is when he’d bite me, afraid of the pain. Instead, his mouth coasted lower as he bent to brush his lips across one breast, smearing the demon sign and sucking at the taut peak. I moaned, the pleasure coiling hot and wet between my legs.
Then he scooped me off my feet and lay me flat on my back on the cushion, bringing me back to awareness of where I was and what was about to happen in the throne room. I looked toward the wall of towering flames, noticing the shapes of the shouting wraith fae, their drums beating loudly again. They weren’t even recognizable on the other side, but they were still there in the room. Discomfort stiffened my limbs.
“Una,” Goll beckoned.
I turned my attention back to him, a pained expression darkened his eyes. He lowered his mouth—dusted with gold—to mine again, sweeping me away with yet another devouringkiss, his lips firming over mine. He nipped my lower lip with his fangs, stinging with a small prick. He licked the metallic drop from my lip and groaned, yet again, kissing his way down my throat.
This time, I thrust my breast up for him, eagerly wanting that sensation of pleasure again. He licked and circled with his tongue then sucked the tip, which had me gripping his two larger horns to hold him there.
Another rumbling growl vibrated from his chest, which was pressed to my torso. He opened my left thigh, his grip firm but not painful. I couldn’t help noting the claws of two fingers of his right hand were filed blunt. I quickly realized why when he slid that hand up my thigh and caressed my quim through the folds.
My head fell back to the cushion as he lingered on one breast and stroked a finger over the tight nub at the apex of my sex. My mouth fell open on a gasp. I’d touched myself for pleasure before. Of course, I had. But no one else ever had. The sensation of having this giant dark fae, the wraith king, hovering over me, sucking my breast and stroking metheresent a thread of hot desire throughout my body.
I squirmed beneath his touch, rocking up for more. He stopped tending to my breast, lifting his head to look at me, his fingers still slowly circling, igniting, stirring a maddening flame inside me.
I’d thought his gaze was feral before, but now, it was downright savage, locked on mine. He slid an arm beneath my shoulder to grip the back of my nape, cradling it actually, the tips of his clawed hand sinking into my braided hair.
