Page 47 of Kingdoms of Tides and Twilight

Renya struggled to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions inside her. “When I was younger, my world was so simple,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “Even up until the last few months, I thought I knew exactly how my life was going to go. I'd work my way up at the newspaper I reported for, become editor, and settle down with a nice house on the ocean in Malibu. I'd convince Aunt Agatha to move in with me when she couldn't continue to care for herself, and that would pretty much be it. Maybe I'd get married, or maybe not.”

She paused, searching Grayden's face. His expression was patient, encouraging her to continue. “But now...I'm full of magic I don't know how to use, I'm instrumental in fixing a broken world I've barely spent any time in, I'm fate-bound and I hardly even know what that means...and now I'm going to get married and become queen in a month.”

Grayden was quiet for a moment, his hand absently rubbing his jaw, the stubble there darker and fuller than she'd ever seen it. He looked older, more weathered here in the mountains, the weight of his responsibilities etched in the lines around his eyes.

“I wish I knew what I could do to help you,” he said finally, his voice heavy with concern. “There's no rush to marry. I'm sorry if I put any pressure on you. And if you don't want to be queen, I understand. The only thing that matters to me is that we're together.”

Renya felt a rush of affection for him, touched by his willingness to put her comfort above tradition and expectation. “Being with you isn't what scares me,” she assured him, leaning into his embrace. “The thought of being with you forever is the only thing that makes sense to me right now. I just...I don't know. Maybe I'll feel better when I finally figure out my magic.”

Grayden nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. “I'm sure you will,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “Right now there's a huge piece of you that you don't understand. Fates, even with the gradual loss of my magic I've felt unsure. It's an important part of who we are. You'll learn how to wield it, and I know you will be a sight to behold.”

His words, filled with such faith in her, helped to calm some of Renya's fears. She nodded, allowing herself to believe, if only for a moment, that she could live up to the destiny that seemed to have been thrust upon her.

Grayden put his arm around her shoulders, guiding her away from the dying fire and back towards where Damion waited patiently. As they walked, he pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice low and filled with promise.

“Whatever happens, you'll always have me.”

As they mounted Damion and began the journey back to the camp, Renya found herself lost in thought. The ring on her finger felt both foreign and right, a symbol of the new life she was stepping into. She was scared, yes, but also excited. Whatever challenges lay ahead—mastering her magic, becoming a queen, facing the Shadow Queen—she wouldn't face them alone. With Grayden by her side, she felt like she could conquer anything.

The pre-dawn sky was just beginning to lighten as they approached the camp. Renya leaned back against Grayden's chest, drawing strength from his solid presence. She didn't know what the future held, but she was ready to face it—one day at a time, with the man she loved by her side.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sion sat on the edge of her massive bed, his feet hanging over the tall bed frame. Dark red curtains hung along the four posters, and the only light in the room was from a few candles burning low. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Cressida was asleep, her pale skin translucent in the amber light. She was completely naked apart from the small, cold blade she kept strapped to her calf. Even in the throes of passion she didn’t remove it, and Sion had scrapes and scars from where it dug into his back and sides when he pleasured her.

The room was more like a dungeon than a bedchamber. Despite the lit candles, the space seemed to hang in a perpetual shadow, almost strangling him. He felt like he was in a long cave, and he could see the light out ahead but never reached it, no matter how hard or fast he ran. A large open air balcony covered an entire side of her chambers, with a dark satin curtain that ruffled in the wind.

A large decanter of fireale sat open on the dark granite nightstand, and Sion grabbed the bottle and took a large drink straight from the container, not even bothering to pour the cranberry-colored liquid into one of the thick-walled glasses. The ale burned his throat on the way down, but he took another large gulp, numbing his emotions and warming the hollow pit in his stomach.

Sion checked again to make sure she was deep under before he grabbed his tunic and pants from the floor, where Cressida had thrown them after ripping them off his body. He stepped off the raised platform the bed was on and pulled his tattered clothes on quickly, eager to be out of her room and away from her presence. Even asleep, her very existence tormented him.

He left the room and shut the door behind him silently, bare feet creeping down the hall, boots in hand. It was the middle of the night, and he knew she’d be furious he didn’t stay until morning. But he couldn’t force himself to sleep in her bed. Sion knew she didn’t trust him, and he was equally untrusting of her. Once he served his usefulness, he was sure she would kill him. There was no love or affection in her heart. The only reason she wanted him was to satisfy her lust. He was talented in bed, and Cressida knew it would be hard for her to ever replace him in that department. Still, she tended to explode and act irrationally, and Sion was always one tantrum away from death at all times.

He continued moving quickly through the palace, the open air cool against his skin. The wind played with the open collar of his tunic; he hadn't even bothered to lace it up, he just wanted to get the hell out of there. The side was torn open, and the fresh air hit his torso.

Sion wasn’t sure how much longer he could play this double role. He didn’t mind acting as a spy, but the secrets he got from her were no longer worth the self-degradation.

His feet carried him down a few steps to another landing, followed by another corridor. The hallways were a labyrinth, but he made this walk of shame so many times he could do it in the dark, which he sometimes did during the times Cressida didn’t dismiss him until the early hours of the morning. The torches were all burning low and the guards only half paying attention to who roamed the halls. In times like these, the Shadow Realm Palace was actually peaceful. If it wasn’t for the way he was forced to spend his evenings, it would be a nice place to live. But Cressida’s cruel influence spread throughout the land. Her subjects were starving, oppressed, and miserable.

He finally approached the door to his room and let himself inside. The room was dark and quiet, his bed made and everything tidy. He hardly spent time in his room, barely trusting anyone and never allowing himself to sleep deeply. He had been at her court for almost six months now, and managed to pass along useful information. The part he played was vital for his homelands and the Snowdens. Grayden had saved his life many times on the battlefield, and Sion knew that without him, he would be dead and buried, his soul with the Fates. But still, the depravity of being in her bed was wearing on him.

Sion slipped off his trousers and the ruined tunic and tossed his shoes in the corner of the room. The walls were a deep mahogany, and there was a window overlooking the valley. In the distance, he could just make out the Sun Realm Castle. Renya’s ancestral home. At least she was safe from Cressida, but there were other dangers in their world besides her. Sion pictured the way Grayden defended and protected Renya during the scrimmage at the Sunset Land, and it was obvious his best friend was in love. If Sion was ever fortunate enough to find someone to love, someone who would accept his past life as a whore to Cressida, Grayden would protect her too. They were brothers all but in name.

Shivering in the shadowed night, Sion moved away from the open window and into the bathing chamber to his left. He turned the handle to the large stone tub and filled it with the hottest water he could get to come out of the tap.

While the tub filled, he examined his copper-colored skin in the mirror. He had several long scratches on his face from where Cressida had dug her nails into him as he fucked her. His torso carried the same damage, as did his back. As he moved his neck in the mirror, he saw two large bruises on each side of his neck from her violent kisses. He grimaced as he splashed water on his face, the cuts stinging. Sion dried his face with a soft clean towel and then climbed into the tub.

The water stung the other marks along his body, but he grabbed a washcloth and scoured himself clean until the marks bled again. He washed off every trace of her from his body, until he couldn’t smell her scent upon him. Every time he came from her room he felt dirty and shameful. But he did his duty to protect his kingdom and his best friend.

Sion sat in the tub until the water turned cold. Feeling more like himself, Sion got out of the washtub and dried himself off. He just slipped on his robe when he heard a knock on his door.

“Enter,” he said, fearing it would be Cressida. Although, she most likely wouldn’t have knocked and just barged in. Or, sent someone else to summon him.

The door swung open and Brandle appeared, smug in the doorway. Sion tried to hide his disgust. At times, he wasn’t sure who was worse, Brandle or Cressida. Cressida was plain evil, but she didn’t hide it. Brandle was oily and sly, and if it came to it, he would murder anyone who got in the way of his goals. Which were mainly to screw anything that walked and to accumulate wealth and power under his cousin’s rule.

Brandle stalked into the room, looking around at Sion’s bare accommodations.

“As the queen’s lover, I would have expected your accommodations to be more…well, more accommodating.”

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