Page 153 of Black Wing and Shadows
The siblings shifted behind us, grinning like this had been the most ordinary thing in the world, as though bringing home a soulmate had been no more remarkable than bringing home a friend. My pulse was still a storm, but for the first time, I hadn’t been sure if I was afraid—or simply overwhelmed.
The courtyard was still buzzing with the siblings’ chatter—Helena already asking if I could spar, Arkin trying to convince me that he and Zane once flew off the roof of the armory on a bet, Elizabeth tugging at my sleeve like she wanted me to follow her.
The duke lifted his hand, and the noise died instantly.
“You all overwhelm her,” he said, his voice low but leaving no room for argument. His pale eyes swept the six of them. “Go. Give your brother space.”
They hesitated—only for a breath—then scattered like a flock of birds, some throwing quick smiles back at me as they went.
When the last of their footsteps faded, the Duchess turned to Zane, her hand still warm on mine. “Show her around, give her the ins and outs like it’s hers too.” Her gaze flicked toward me, kind and steady. “And see her settled in her chamber.”
Zane hadn’t flinched. His hand was still holding mine tightly. “She’ll be with me, in my room.”
The words hung heavy in the winter air.
The Duchess’s brows lifted, and for a heartbeat, I thought she might object. The duke’s pale eyes narrowed slightly, weighing the words, the bond, the meaning.
But neither spoke against it.
At last, the duke inclined his head. “So be it.”
The Duchess’s mouth curved into the faintest smile. “It seems the choice is already made.”
Heat flushed up my neck, and I dropped my gaze, my pulse roaring. I wanted to vanish into the stones themselves. But Zane’s bond pulsed warm and steady, an anchor against the storm.
He guided me forward,past the guards and through the marble French doors, his hand firmly holding mine, like he never wanted to let go. Inside the palace, the air felt thicker, every hall echoing with weight and history. I wasn’t just stepping into Zane’s world anymore. I was stepping into his life.
The palace swallowed us as soon as we went through the doors, its vaulted ceilings rising higher than I expected, the corridors echoing with every footstep. Zane walked steadily at my side, his voice low and calm as he pointed things out.
“That hall leads to the old armory. Still in use, though mostly for drills now. The eastern wing holds the archives—endless shelves of dust and secrets. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the temple where the statue of the seven Gods are. It’s carved from a single block of obsidian, older than the palace itself.”
I swallowed, overwhelmed by the scale, by the history pressing in from every wall. “That sounds… terrifying and beautiful.”
“You’ll see,” he promised, his mouth curving faintly.
We turned another corner, climbing a staircase lined with heavy tapestries. He led me down a quieter hall, away from the bustle of maids and guards, until we reached a set of carved double doors.
His chambers.
When he pushed them open, I froze.
It hadn’t been the size that stopped me—though the room was vast, lined with shelves and maps, a hearth already lit with a low fire. It was what hung over the mantel.
The painting.
My own face looked back at me from the canvas—softer, but undeniably me. My long blond braid, the tilt of my emerald eyes, the set of my jaw—every detail captured by a hand that didn't know me.
My chest tightened, my breath catching in my throat. Although Zane told me it existed, seeing it was different. Seeing me in this room, painted years before I’d ever stepped inside, was like standing on the edge of something endless.
“I told you,” he said softly. “It is undeniably you, and like you, it is a beauty.”
I couldn’t speak. I could only stare at the girl in the painting, at the ghost of myself that lived in his world long before I arrived.
I tore my eyes from the painting at last, my chest still tight, my throat aching with things I didn’t know how to say.
Zane drew me closer, his hand warm at the small of my back. “I know it’s all overwhelming,” he murmured. “Just… be here. With me.”
The fire crackled low, throwing soft light across the chamber. The weight of the day pressed down all at once—the flight, the mountains, Landon’s death, the palace, his family, that painting. My body felt heavy, like the stone walls themselves seeped into my bones.
