Page 44 of Queen of the Wicked
“It can’t be…”
Thirty-Nine
Adelasia
Every muscle in my body is strung tight, dagger raised, with magic trembling beneath my skin. The bond line still burns across my arm, searing with a pain I almost welcome, because it feels like somethingrealafter months of nothing.
But it can’t be real. Itcan’t.
My breath comes sharp and shallow as the sound draws closer. Boots on wet leaves. The rhythm of a man’s gait, heavy and deliberate, not the careless pad of a beast.
Then—
“Adelasia.”
The voice rips the air in half.
I stagger. My knees almost give out. The dagger lands in a pile of decaying leaves on the ground, forgotten.
Because I know that voice.
I know it in my bones, in the marrow that still remembers the brush of his wings, the mocking curl of his words, the warmth hidden behind his smirk.
I spin toward the sound, my heart breaking even as it dares to beat faster.
And there he is.
Rowan.
Not a dream, not a phantom. Rowan, striding through the dark with his coat torn, his hair unkempt, his face carved thin by travel and time. His wings are gone, replaced by the faint shadow of scars across his shoulders that I can see even through the fabric. But it’s him.Alive.
The bond line blazes in answer, and I collapse forward with a sob.
“Rowan.” My throat closes around the words. “You’re—”
“Real,” he says at the same time as me, voice hoarse but certain.
His eyes catch mine through the tears, and I see every mile he’s walked alone reflected in them.
Forty
Rowan
Gods, she’s smaller than I remembered. Not in stature, but in weight, like the forest itself has been chewing her down to bone and shadow. Her eyes glisten, hollowed by grief, her fingers trembling as though she doesn’t know whether to clutch me to her chest or run.
I drop to my knees in front of her. The forest floor soaks my trousers, cold mud clinging to the fabric, but I don’t care. I need her to see me, tobelieve.
“I thought you were dead,” she chokes, tears streaking down her face. She embraces me like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, her sharp nails digging into the skin at my back.
“Dead? Adelasia I’ve been looking for you this whole time,” I whisper, holding her with the same ferocity, terrified she’ll vanish into smoke if I don’t.
The bond line sears again, proof thrumming between us. She lets out a broken sound and collapses into me, no longer holding me, but silently begging to be held. I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in. My chest caves with relief.
“I lost everything,” she sobs against me. “I buried you both in my heart. I was alone. I thought—” her voice breaks. “I thought I killed you.” Her fingers fist in my coat, trembling. “Kaius—”
“He couldn’t come,” I say quickly, pulling back enough to meet her gaze. “The desert would have burned him alive. He wanted to. He nearly tore himself apart when I told him I’d go alone. But I had to. I couldn’t let the sun take him. And the desert was our last hope.”
Her eyes widen, shimmering with disbelief and hope so fragile it physically hurts to look at. “He’s alive?”
