Page 89 of The Bound Mage
Araya stepped into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. She closed her eyes, letting herself melt into him. As terrifying as the idea of not only staying butleadingbeside him was, the bond hummed between them, a steady reassurance.
“You’ll be an incredible queen,” Loren murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
They stayed there for a long moment, the quiet of the room settling over them both. She wasn’t just Araya Starwind anymore—some halfblood fae female who’d had to claw her way through every impossible choice. She was Prince Lorendrael of Valendrael’s mate. And she would be his queen.
Whatever came next—whatever dangers or impossible odds awaited them—they would face it together. Side by side.
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
Araya stoodat a window on the upper level of Lumaria’s central hall, staring out over streets that had been shrouded in silence and despair for the past twenty years. But not today. Today, golden sunlight poured down over the cobblestones, chasing the darkness back into the corners where it belonged.
Except for the ones that surrounded Loren, of course.
Araya stroked the little shadow that was so fond of her, smiling at how it splayed itself out on the sun-drenched windowsill. Who could have ever imagined that the shadows could ever love the light?
Loren slid his arms around her waist, dropping his chin to her head. “It doesn’t feel like much of a funeral, does it?”
Araya smiled down at the crowd below, fae of all ages jostling for the chance to catch the first glimpse of their new king. Children darted through the crowd, their laughter ringing out over jubilant music, faces alight with hope Araya could feel even from here.
“They have a lot to celebrate.” Araya turned in his arms, smiling up at him. “The lifting of the shadows, their new king—it’s all worth celebrating, Loren.”
“My beautiful mate is to thank for the lifting of the shadows.” Loren laughed, and Araya’s heart ached with the light in it even as her smile faltered. “And my return. So they should all be celebratingyou.”
“I’m not sure everyone would agree with that.” Araya looked away, running her hands over the rich green fabric of his doublet and tracing where the sunlight glimmered on the silver thread. Her fingers lingered at his collar, smoothing a barely-there wrinkle. “The Small Council doesn’t seem to like me very much. Do you think your parents?—”
“Eloria’s Small Council can rot.” Loren stilled her hand with his own, lifting it to his lips. “My mother would have adored you. And my father...he loved my mother. He loved her more than he loved his crown, more than he loved anything else in this world. He would be overjoyed that I’d found a mate who made me want to be a better male and a better king, no matter how we came to be.”
“You do look the part.” Araya blinked hard, reaching up to touch the silver circlet resting just above his brow. She dragged her fingertips down, following the sharp line of his cheekbone and tracing the curve of his smile.
“So do you,” he said, nipping at her fingers.
“Eloria outdid herself,” Araya said, smoothing her hands over the somber violet gown. The princess had sacrificed a significant portion of her own wardrobe so Araya could have clothing fitting her station, determined to believe in a future where her brother ruled alongside his mate.
“I don’t want to think about my sister right now.” Loren’s gaze lingered on her, his lips curving into a smile that made heat crawl up her neck. Gods, the way he looked at her now…like he could devour her right here, ceremony be damned.
Unable to resist, Araya rose on her toes to brush a kiss over Loren’s lips. He met her eagerly, his hands sliding up her back,pressing all of her softness against the hard lines of his body. Heat coiled low in her belly, her breath quickening as his lips trailing from her mouth to the corner of her jaw?—
“Are you two ready?”
Araya sprang back so quickly she nearly tripped. Loren steadied her, his jaw flexing as he glared over the top of her head at his sister.
“I remember what it’s like to be newly mated, but these aremyrooms.” Eloria wrinkled her nose, sweeping into the chamber in a swish of deep green silk. “Don’t defile them with your rutting. You’ve already driven poor Thorne right out of Ithralis.”
Araya covered her face with her hands, her cheeks burning as she smothered a laugh.
“Maybe next time he’ll knock,” Loren growled. But he dragged a hand over his face, straightening his clothes. “Is it time?”
Eloria nodded. “They’re ready for us.”
Araya took Loren’s arm, letting him lead her into the hall where Galen already waited, his expression uncharacteristically solemn as he took his mate’s hand. Together, the four of them descended without speaking, their footsteps echoing off the polished stone floors as they entered the central hall.
Here, silence reigned, the noise of the crowd celebrating outside muted by stone walls and heavy doors. The air grew still, heavy with fragrant smoke from the bier the High Luminary had assembled. Araya breathed deeply, inhaling the sharp scent of clove and cedar. What prayers had the High Luminary spoken to finally lay their king to rest after all this time?
Absent a body to bathe and shroud, they’d cleaned his bones, polishing them until they glowed against the dark velvet. Every fragment was accounted for, arranged with painstakingreverence. His crown sat at the head of the bier, a gleaming masterpiece of silver and onyx obsidian.
Eloria stepped forward, tears already dripping down her cheeks. Loren paused just long enough to press a kiss against Araya’s knuckles, the little shadow detaching itself from him to curl around her shoulders as he turned to join his sister at his father’s side.
