Page 78 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons
"We have to stop him," Tarshi said finally. "Your father, the breeding program, all of it. We have to find a way."
"I agree," I said immediately. "But how? He commands the largest military force in the known world. He has dragons, soldiers, resources beyond imagining. What can a handful ofescaped slaves and one conflicted prince possibly do against that?"
The question hung unanswered between us, highlighting the impossible magnitude of what we were contemplating. But for the first time since my identity had been revealed, I felt like I was truly part of the group rather than an outsider being barely tolerated.
"I don't know," Antonius admitted. "But we have to try. The alternative is watching an entire people disappear from the world."
"Starting with finding Livia," Septimus added. "If this shadow mage is as powerful as you say, we need to understand what he wants with her."
"And what he might be willing to trade for her safe return," Marcus concluded grimly.
I looked around at these men who had every reason to hate me, who had been given every justification to see me as their enemy. Instead, they were including me in their planning, accepting me as an ally in a cause that could very well destroy us all.
"Whatever it takes," I said quietly. "Whatever the cost, we stop this. We save Livia, we free the prisoners, and we find a way to end my father's war before it can consume everything we care about."
"Together," Antonius said, offering me his hand.
I gripped it firmly, feeling the calluses earned through years of brutal training and the strength that had kept him alive through horrors I could barely imagine.
"Together," I agreed.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere. Not because of my bloodline or my title, but because of my choices. Because these men had seen the worst of what Irepresented and had chosen to judge me on my actions rather than my heritage.
It was terrifying and liberating in equal measure.
"So," Marcus said, breaking the moment with practical considerations. "How do we cross this river without getting swept away?"
I looked at the rushing water, at the dangerous crossing that stood between us and whatever lay ahead. It seemed like an appropriate metaphor for everything we were about to face.
"Very carefully," I said. "And with a lot of faith that we'll make it to the other side."
"Then let's have faith," Tarshi said, moving toward the bridge. "And let's go get our woman back."
As we began the treacherous crossing, I found myself thinking not about the dangers ahead, but about the word Tarshi had used.Ourwoman. Not his, not theirs, but ours. Including me in that possessive plural, accepting me as one of Livia's mates despite everything that should have made that impossible.
The water was cold and treacherous, the stones slippery beneath our feet. But we moved together, each man supporting the others, united in purpose if not in background. And for the first time since this nightmare began, I allowed myself to hope that we might actually succeed.
That love might be stronger than politics, that choice might matter more than blood, and that six desperate men might somehow find a way to change the world.
29
Iwoke to warmth and the steady rhythm of breathing beneath my cheek. For a moment, I existed in that perfect space between sleep and consciousness where nothing mattered except the comfort of strong arms around me and the reassuring beat of a heart against my ear.
Then memory flooded back—the bridge, the river, the terrifying moments when I thought we would both drown in that churning torrent. I raised my head carefully, not wanting to disturb him, and studied the face of the man who had become the centre of my increasingly complicated world. For three days I'd tended him as he drifted between wakefulness and something deeper, his body fighting to recover from the blow that had nearly split his skull open. Three days of fear that I was trying very hard not to examine too closely.
Because the truth was, I hadn't been afraid he would die. Well, I had been afraid of that, but there was something more complex underneath the surface fear. I'd been afraid I would lose him, and the distinction mattered more than I wanted to admit.
When had that happened? When had my captor become someone I couldn't bear to lose?
The transformation had been so gradual I'd barely noticed it happening. Somewhere between his gentle care of me during our journey and the way he'd risked everything to save me from the river, the dynamic between us had shifted. I was still his prisoner in the technical sense—I had no doubt he would stop me if I tried to leave. But it no longer felt like captivity.
It felt like choice.
I traced the line of his jaw with my eyes, noting the way exhaustion had softened the harsh planes of his face. His skin was drawn beneath the geometric tattoos that marked him as Talfen, and there were new lines of pain around his eyes that hadn't been there before the accident. The blow to his head had been severe enough that I'd genuinely feared he might never wake up.
The thought of that—of being alone in these mountains with his still, silent body—had terrified me in ways I was only beginning to understand.
He shifted slightly in his sleep, his arms tightening around me in an unconscious gesture of possession that should have annoyed me. Instead, I found myself melting further into his embrace, savouring the safety and warmth he represented. My men loved me, I knew that with absolute certainty. They would die for me, kill for me, move mountains if I asked them to.
