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Zuriel’s facade cracked again at the mention of the war, a heaviness settling over his usually light posture. “It is also something I would like to avoid,” he announced, his voice carrying a grimness that made me wonder if he had fought in it.
“Then we will not fail,” Drazen promised, the confidence and surety in his voice dispelling the shadow of doubt that had begun to creep in around our small group.
After all, Ialwaysgot what I wanted, a fact that I’d made clear to Izidora from one of our very first conversations.
I wanted to be king of Északi.
I wanted the Félvér to be free.
I wanted Izidora to choose me.
And nothing would stop any of those wants from coming to pass.
“Perfect. It’s settled then. I will work on the other monarchs,” I announced.
“What can I do to help?” Izidora asked, her bright voice drawing my immediate attention.
I closed the distance between us, using the tip of my finger to tilt her head up to look at me. “You focus on your choice. After that, I’ll let you know.”
Please choose me.
The words were unspoken, but she heard them all the same. She saw to the depths of my soul, the parts of me I hid from those who would scrape at the already raw wound.
And at the same time, I saw to the depths of her own, and there was a heaviness there that no one should have to bear. The gravity of her decision weighed upon her, and with only a slight pinch in her eyes, she hid it better than I realized. I bent down to plant a featherlight kiss on her lips, if only to steal her attention away from the choice that ate at her mental capacity.
She was my Angel, my light in the dark, and for her, I could do anything.
A soft noise caught in her throat as I pulled away. “Thank you,” she whispered, only for me to hear. A quick glance up showed Zuriel and Drazen with their heads together, plainly busying themselves with other matters while I had a moment alone with my mate.
“I will always take care of you, sprite. Even when it hurts me to do so.”
“I know,” she breathed, her fingers stroking the stubble dusting on my strong jaw, and I let go of the tension I’d been holding there. Her touch soothed the fear that held my teeth in a constant ache. “I love you, Ruslan. My dark king.”
Trapping her palm against my face, I turned into it, leaving my lips lingering there as I stared deep into her soul and watched it come alight at our contact. The thread that tied us together hummed contentedly, finally satisfied with our proximity. Izidora was like a drug I could not get enough of, and the constant need to touch her was becoming overwhelming.
How was I supposed to run a kingdom and host a two-week-long celebration when all I wanted to do was hide away with my mate?
“We should return to the party. I did not get to finish dancing with you, sprite.”
The smile that she offered me was like glittering diamonds, making my inner Dragon purr contentedly. “Let’s go.”
I slipped my hand around hers, leading her toward the half-open door, Zuriel and Drazen continuing their low conversation behind me as we made the short walk to the ballroom. I didn’t bother listening to their plans, trusting they would carry out their respective tasks. But the second we returned to the ballroom, all eyes fell over us, and my high was replaced with cold fury.
Blood still stained the floor where I had fought with Kazimir, and the memory of Izidora’s pained face as she danced with him flooded my eyes.
I would erase every memory of him from her mind, body, and soul.
Leading her straight to the dance floor, I ignored the whispers and stares, guiding her into the middle of a number she did not know. And yet, she trusted me to lead her, following along with my steps. Contentment settled my racing heart, knowing that I held something precious with her that Kazimir no longer did – trust.
6
Béke Day One
Kazimir made Ruslan who had spirited me away from the Night Realm look as angelic as Zuriel.
The male who once made every effort to ensure I felt safe and cared for now slashed me with harsh words, intentionally, in our first conversation since the terrifying moment that I was ripped away from him in the ballroom of Este Castle.
How could he drop the deaths of those we both cared about so casually within moments of speaking?
