Page 258 of The Reckoning of Starlight

The order struck somewhere past obedience. Jassyn let Lykor control his undoing, and the intimacy of being known that completely shattered what remained of Jassyn’s composure. Pleasure crashed through his body all at once. He came hard, a ragged sound torn from his throat as his spine arched from the table.

His magic spilled free with him.

Vines burst from the table’s seams, splitting polished wood as leaves unfurled across torn maps and ruined petitions. Flowers bloomed in their wake, bright among the wreckage of ink and law.

Lykor cursed against his throat and followed, sinking deep once more as release locked his body against Jassyn’s.

Frost swept through the chamber. Ice climbed the arches and columns until the air exhaled snow.

Then Lykor folded over Jassyn, spent weight settling across him.

For a while, the room held nothing but their breathing. Jassyn lay sprawled across the table, limbs slow to answer, one hand still tangled in Lykor’s hair, the other curled around crumpled vellum.

Jassyn slowly unclenched his fingers. “You ruined another map.”

Lykor pressed his mouth to Jassyn’s skin. “Then I’ll make you a new world.”

Jassyn’s breath caught, his arms winding around Lykor’s back.

Lykor stayed there, face tucked against Jassyn’s throat while snow melted cold against their skin. When he finally lifted his head, the predatory gleam had dimmed from his eyes, leaving an uncertainty Jassyn rarely saw.

Jassyn propped himself up on one elbow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Lykor glanced toward the shadows enclosing the chamber, then back at him. “But if you’ve had enough of ruling for one day, there’s something I want to show you.”

Jassyn stepped out of Lykor’s portal and into the last light of evening.

Atop a mountain peak, grass cushioned his boots where bare stone should’ve ruled. Mist curled over the jungle, the canopy splintering the sinking sun into flashes of green and gold.

For a moment, Jassyn only stood there as the earth’s living pulse climbed through his soles, its steady rhythm quieting the day’s petitions and arguments still crowding his skull.

“Where are we?”

Lykor laced their fingers together, his grip careful enough to make Jassyn glance at him.

But Lykor didn’t meet his eyes. He turned toward the summit instead, where the rolling slope crested some distance above.

A manor rose from the mountain.

Vines and roots braided upward, shaping tier upon tier of balconies, terraces, and roofs half-hidden in flowering boughs. Orchids spread color from twisted trunks and living columns, petals luminous in the dappled light. High windows overlooked the jungle, their polished frames feathered by ferns.

A palace, if palaces had roots. A sanctuary grown from the wild.

Aiko swept down from an upper terrace and landed on a carved banister. Blue-winged birds exploded from the vines around the vulpintera, chattering their outrage into the sky. Aiko lifted one paw and began cleaning it, regal and entirely unrepentant.

Farther down the slope, pocket goats cropped the grass, round-bellied and no taller than Jassyn’s knee.

Jassyn’s lips twitched as they lifted their heads in unison and bleated at the sight of Lykor.

“Don’t say it,” Lykor growled.

“You moved the herd.”

“Drop it.”

Lykor glowered as Jassyn chuckled, though the expression didn’t survive long.

“I know the delegations gave you estates in every city,” Lykor said, fingers tightening around Jassyn’s. “Rooms across the realms pretending they own a piece of you.” He shook his head. “But they all know where to find you. Some crisis starts before dawn, and they come knocking because they know you’ll be the one to fix it.” He glanced up the mountain. “I wanted one place they couldn’t reach. Somewhere you could come back to when they’d taken enough from you for the day.”