Page 184 of The Reckoning of Starlight

Jassyn’s hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking apart. A feral sound broke from him as he drove deep one final time. He held there, shuddering, while heat spilled inside Lykor.

For a heartbeat, Jassyn stayed braced over him, breath ragged against Lykor’s neck. Then the strength went out of his arms and he collapsed against Lykor’s chest.

The vines slackened around Lykor’s wrists and slipped away. His arms closed around Jassyn before thought returned, holding him until the last tremors passed.

They stayed tangled together as the heat ebbed from their damp skin. Beyond the balcony, Asharyn lay silent under the moons, its stone courtyards empty and still.

Jassyn moved first, easing out slowly. The loss of pressure dragged a hiss through Lykor’s teeth anyway.

Jassyn settled beside him and draped an arm across Lykor’s chest, tucking his face against Lykor’s shoulder.

“You’re shaking,” Jassyn murmured.

“I’m not.”

He was.

Jassyn pressed closer and left the lie alone.

Lykor sifted his fingers through Jassyn’s curls, talons grazing carefully over his scalp. Little by little, Jassyn’s weight sank more fully against him, growing heavier as his breathing evened out.

Lykor knew he should move. Clean them before sweat and release dried on their skin. Get Jassyn water. Proper food, something heartier than dried figs and flatbread. Check the door. The balcony. The hall where Koln’s squad held watch. Make certain no threat had slipped into the silence while Lykor had been foolish enough to let a bed become his whole world.

But he stayed where he was, staring at the ceiling while Jassyn’s breath warmed his skin.

I love you.

Jassyn had said it like a fact, not a confession. Like the sky was dark and the stars were bright and that he loved him.

Lykor had given him the truth once already, buried inside a future they might not live to see. But saying it that plainly was another thing entirely.

The three words rose but stayed on his tongue. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe before the war found its final way to claim them.

Lykor tightened his arms around Jassyn as he slept against his chest, warm and trusting.

And for once, Lykor let the rest of the world go unwatched.

CHAPTER 48

SERENNA

The air was wrong.

It found Serenna before she reached Ayla’s chamber on the tower’s second level, fouling the back of her throat. Rot clung beneath the mineral bite of stone like meat spoiling under a hot sun.

After dawn, one of Jassyn’s guards had found her on the lower islands with Vesryn and Fenn. They were still combing the wreckage for survivors and gathering what remained of their people when he summoned Serenna to the tower.

Lykor filled the doorway, one shoulder braced against the frame, arms crossed over his armor. Serenna turned sideways to slip past him, and he didn’t yield so much as an inch. Crimson eyes tracked her into the chamber, flat and burning.

Jassyn knelt beside Ayla’s pallet with one palm hovering above her shoulder, weaving crimson lattices of mending into her skin.

She’s worse, Serenna thought.

Days. It had only been days since Serenna had last visited Ayla before the battle, but the king’s magic had devoured every one of them.

Eyes closed, her sister sat propped against the stone, the sharp, imperious beauty Serenna remembered from Centarya carved down to gaunt angles. The flame-colored hair Ayla had once worn like another piece of finery hung in brittle ropes, white spreading through the roots. The golden collar sagged against a throat wasted away, the metal now oversized.

Tendons strained against parchment-thin skin, blue veins branching toward fingers curled protectively around Sharyne. She slept in the crook of Ayla’s arm, silver eyes shuttered under delicate lids. Her breathing stayed soft and even, the steadiest rhythm in the room.