Page 81 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons
“They are my mates.” I took a breath, the next words a leap from a cliff with no guarantee of a safe landing. “As you are.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. For a terrifying moment, I saw the untamed creature he had been in the forest, the one who had hunted me and taken me with brutal force. I saw the urge in his eyes to hurt, to punish, to erase the claim of others with violence. But then I saw the fear beneath it—the raw terror of the man who had woken up in my arms and begged me to stay.
“We need to get to the temple. We will talk more there.”
He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly before finding his balance. The time for talk was over. Without a word, we worked together, gathering our few belongings and extinguishing the small fire. He moved with a stiff, pained grace, but the weakness was receding, replaced by the familiar, dangerous competence I knew so well.
He retrieved the discarded leather cord, and my breath caught. But instead of looping it around my throat, he coiled it neatly and tucked it into his satchel. The leash was gone. I was free to walk away.
But when he held out his hand to me, I took it without hesitation, my fingers lacing through his. Together, we stepped out of the cave and into the pale morning light, leaving the place of my surrender and rebirth behind. The journey was not over, but I was no longer being led into enemy territory. I was going home with him.
The world that opened up before us was vast and intimidating, a panorama of jagged peaks and shadowed valleys that stretched to the horizon. We walked for two days, the silence between us no longer a weapon but a shared space. He still leaned on me more than he would admit, his steps sure but lacking their former predatory grace. The weakness from his injury lingered, forcing a slower pace that chafed at his pride.
He would ask questions as we walked, his voice low. About my training. About the arena. Never about them. But I felt their presence in the way his grip on my hand would tighten whenever my gaze lingered on the southern horizon for too long. It was a silent, constant reminder that whatever my past held, he now controlled my present. And the most terrifying part was that I was no longer certain I wanted to be free of that control.
Late on the second day, he stopped, pulling me to a halt beside him on a high ridge overlooking a wide, secluded valley. The air was different here, charged with an energy that made the hairs on my arms stand up. He pointed toward a sheer mountain face, miles distant, that rose like a black monolith from the valley floor.
“There,” he said, his voice laced with a reverence I had never heard before. “Thal’Zereth. In your tongue it means Sanctum of the Forsaken.”
I followed his gaze, and the breath caught in my throat. The valley below was not the barren wasteland I had expected, but a lush, secret world shielded by the surrounding peaks. Fields of dark green and gold stretched between forests of black pine, and a wide, silver river snaked through it all, dotted with small villages that clung to its banks. It was a place of life, of agriculture, of peace.
But it was the mountain, Thal'Zereth, that commanded my complete attention. It was not a city built against the stone; it was a city carved from its very heart. Spires of what lookedlike polished obsidian pierced the clouds, linked by bridges that seemed woven from solid shadow. Countless windows glowed with a soft, internal luminescence, like captured starlight. It was a place of impossible architecture and ancient, indomitable power.
This was not the home of savages. This was a fortress built by artists, a testament to a people who refused to be broken. This was a kingdom.
I looked from the impossible city back to Taveth. The pride in his face was a fierce, unguarded thing. This was not just his home; it was his heart, his purpose. He was not just a lone warrior who had stolen me from a battle. He was a prince of this shadow kingdom, and he had brought me to his fortress.
“It’s beautiful,” I managed, the words utterly inadequate.
He looked down at me, his hand tightening on mine. His pale eyes burned with a fierce pride that transformed his entire face. “It is the last refuge of our people,” he said, his voice low and resonant. “It is our home.”
He squeezed my hand gently. “Come,” he said, his voice soft but resolute.
“It is time you met the elders.”
