Page 92 of Blood Marked

“And now?”

She turned, facing him fully beneath the arching stone gate as the twin moons rose again in perfect tandem.

“Now I’m going to change it.”

Kael just kissed her—slow, deep, and certain.

Because they weren’t afraid anymore. They were the beginning. And everything after.

FORTY-ONE

KAEL

He hadn’t slept.

Not because nightmares came. But becausethey didn’t.

For the first time in years, Kael didn’t jolt awake to blood on his hands or the sound of Elara’s scream in his skull. He didn’t claw at his sheets, didn’t shift in his sleep, didn’t wake drowning in rage.

Instead, he’d watched Selene.

Her hair fanned across his chest, her cheek resting just over his heartbeat, her palm over the Mark that bound them both bychoicenow, not magic.

And he thought, ‘So this is peace’.But peace didn’t mean stillness. And the dawn they fought for had come.

The great hall was full once again.

Not bloated with pompous advisors or shadowed priests whispering curses behind false smiles—but filled withthem. The new heirs. Nyra. His soldiers. The people. The court.

And Selene stood beside him, radiant in twilight-colored silk, a simple diadem braided into her dark waves—no gemstones. Just the Veilstone Kael had pulled from the ruins after her return.

A crown made of what tried to break her. And failed.

He walked forward in silence until he stood before the throne. Not Ruarc’s. That had burned with the rest.

This was a new seat.

Carved from blackened oak and veinstone, the back crowned with the image of twin wolves. One howling, one watching. Balance.

Kael turned. Faced them all. And didn’t speak from a scroll.

He spoke fromtruth.

“For years, we’ve ruled through strength,” he said. “Through bloodlines. Through fear.”

The silence was heavy, listening.

“My father led this court with teeth bared and blood drawn. It made us survivors. It made us feared. But it also made usmonsters.”

A murmur of discomfort rippled through the crowd.

Kael didn’t flinch.

“I was meant to follow him. Meant to take the throne with a blade and a bride picked from council bidding. Meant to obey prophecy and blood magic and the ghosts of those who died screaming for peace they were never given.”

He looked to the heirs now—Calder with his arms crossed, Seraphine watching with interest, Nyssa perched like she was born of starlight, and Lucien lounging like a shadow bored into skin.

“I rejected that fate.”

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