Page 116 of Wings of Shadow
“Are you sure you’re up for this, baby?”
I glance at him. He’s crouched slightly to catch my gaze, his hands gentle as they settle on my shoulders, steady and strong—always steady when I’m unraveling.
I force a smile. “I’m fine.” I hope I sound more confident than I feel. “It’s been two weeks. You need to stop coddling me, Kai.”
His eyes flicker as he searches my expression for cracks. I see the storm behind his calm—the tug of instinct urging him to shield me, tempered by respect for the woman who’s choosing to stand on her own.
Finally, he nods and presses a kiss to my forehead. “All right,” he murmurs. “But if it gets to be too much, say the word. We walk. Screw politics and alliances.”
That brings out a real smile from me. “My hero,” I whisper, brushing his jaw with my thumb.
Before he can answer, the sharp click of heels draws our attention.
Cassandra glides across the marble, regal and composed. Her dark hair flows over her shoulders, stormy gaze bright with thoughtful scrutiny.
“Clarissa.” She embraces me softly. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She turns to Kaisner with a knowing smile. “Kaisner, darling. Congratulations on your engagement.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. Our mating may be no longer secret, but hearing it spoken aloud still feels… new. Real.
“Thank you,” Kai replies coolly. I sense the slight tension in his spine, the way he carries himself like a blade waiting to be drawn. Tonight, words are weapons—and every gathered clan is a different kind of battlefield.
Cassandra’s gaze lingers on us both, sharp with insight. “Samara will need you more than ever,” she says gently, directing her remark to me. “Your presence will be a great comfort to us all.”
Just as I’m about to ask what she means, the double doors at the far end of the hall sweep open.
My breath catches in my throat when I see.
Nikolaas strides in, flanked by Samara. My heart stumbles. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since he and Kaisner pulled me from the ruins of the Mahindra stronghold. My brother’s expression is unreadable—hardened by duty, shadowed by guilt. I discover love in his eyes, yes, but I also recognize fear. Not for me. For what I’ve become. A threat to his rule.
Behind them, Vladimir and Gavriil Alexeev make their entrance. The Ursa brothers are tall and commanding, their tailored suits doing little to conceal the quiet menace they carry.
Nikolaas locks stares with Kaisner, and the air all but crackles.
A silent storm brews between them, heavy with resentment, spite, and unspoken truths.
Kaisner’s revelation as a dragon has sent shockwaves through the supernatural world. Nikolaas’ carefully laid plans to proclaim himself Dragon King have crumbled in its wake. Most of Europe had quietly supported Kaisner before, offering whispered pledges behind closed doors. Now, those hushed promises have become open declarations of loyalty.
Nikolaas’s discomfort is clear. I brace, half-expecting them to clash right here in the middle of the hall.
But then, Nik finally breaks eye contact and stalks toward the study. Kaisner guides me to our seats on the opposite side of the room, his hand lightly at my back. Across the space, Samara meets my gaze, offering a faint smile—a lifeline.
Gavriil settles into his chair with the quiet confidence of someone who believes they know exactly why they’ve been summoned.
“So, Cassandra,” he says, voice smooth with presumption, “I assume we’re finally setting a date for the wedding? Perhaps a summer ceremony at the Alexeev estate?” His smile holds an air of entitlement—he’s accustomed to things falling into line with his plans.
Cassandra’s expression shifts slightly—resignation flickers before she steeps herself in composure behind the imposing desk. She places her hands on the polished surface, steady despite the gravity of the moment.
“Actually, Gavriil,” she says, her voice gentle but firm, “we have more pressing matters to discuss today.”
His smile falters, confusion creasing his brow.
“Gentlemen,” she continues, her tone commanding, “shall we begin?”
The room falls silent, all eyes on her.
“We face a threat greater than any blood feud or political game,” she begins, and her voice carries effortlessly through the space, every word weighted with authority. “Darkness is coming.”
Nikolaas leans forward, brow furrowed in deep scrutiny. “What kind of darkness?”
