The silence after the portal collapses is heavier than stone.
It presses down on me, thick and suffocating, like the weight of the Undercourt’s black stone ceiling. We’re back in the hidden chamber—Kaelen and I—still tangled together on the bed of black silk, our breaths ragged, our hearts pounding in unison. The fire in the hearth burns low, casting long shadows across the floor. The runes on the walls pulse faintly, as if recovering from the shock of what just happened. My magic hums beneath my skin—hot, restless, alive. The bond thrums between us, not screaming, not twisting, but celebrating.
We made it.
Not just out of the Highlands.
Out of the past.
Out of the lies.
Out of the war inside me.
I press my fingers to my lips, still tingling from the kiss—the one I gave him in front of the Winter Sovereign, in front of the entire Fae Court, like a declaration, like a vow, like a line drawn in blood and fire. I didn’t kiss him to survive.
I kissed him because I wanted to.
And that terrifies me more than any curse.
“You came back,” Kaelen murmurs, his voice rough, his thumb brushing the edge of my lip. His eyes—black, endless—burn into mine. “You didn’t have to.”
“Neither did you,” I say, my voice quiet. “You should’ve stayed. You could’ve died.”
“And you could’ve stayed with them.” He leans in, his breath cold on my skin. “You could’ve taken their power. Their throne. Their ice.”
“And become what? A weapon? A puppet? A ghost?” I shake my head. “No. I’d rather burn than live as someone else’s shadow.”
He doesn’t answer. Just watches me, his expression unreadable. And then—
He pulls me into his arms.
Not rough. Not possessive.
But holding.
And for the first time, I don’t pull away.
I let him hold me. Let his cold seep into my skin. Let his heartbeat sync with mine. Let the bond hum between us—low, steady, satisfied—like it’s finally found its home.
And maybe it has.
Maybe I have.
“You were magnificent,” he says, his voice muffled against my hair. “Standing there. Facing her. Refusing her.”
“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I whisper. “Walking through the portal like you owned the place. Like you weren’t stepping into a death trap.”
“I wasn’t.” He lifts my chin, his black eyes burning into mine. “Because I knew you’d come back to me.”
My breath catches.
“And if I hadn’t?”
“Then I’d have found you.”
“Even in the Winter Court?”
“Even in hell.”
I don’t answer. Just press my palm to his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath the fabric of his shirt. It’s not the heart of a monster. Not the heart of a tyrant. Not the heart of a man who feeds on traitors in the open.
It’s the heart of someone who’s been alone too long.
Like me.
“You know,” I say, voice quiet, “I used to think love was weakness. That wanting someone made you vulnerable. That needing someone made you a target.”
He stills. “And now?”
“Now I think… maybe it’s the only thing that makes us strong.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. Just cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. “You don’t have to say it.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to mean it.”
“I do.”
And I do.
Not because the bond demands it.
Not because the Oath is breaking.
Not because Malrik is still out there, whispering in the shadows, waiting for us to fail.
But because for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m fighting.
I feel like I’m choosing.
And I choose him.
Even if it destroys me.
Even if it breaks me.
Even if it means I’ll never be the woman I swore I’d be—the one who burned his world down.
Because the truth is—
I don’t want to burn it.
I want to build it.
With him.
“I don’t want to hate you anymore,” I whisper.
He freezes.
Not in anger.
Not in shock.
In pain.
Like the words cut deeper than any blade.
And then—
His breath hitches.
And I see it.
For the first time since I met him—since he fed on a traitor in the open, since he claimed me in front of the council, since he carried me to this hidden chamber and made love to me like it was the first time he’d ever done it right—
He cries.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Just a single tear—cold, silver, like moonlight on snow—sliding down his cheek.
And I reach for it.
My fingers brush his skin, catching the tear before it falls. I don’t wipe it away. Don’t pretend I didn’t see it.
I just hold it.
Like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
“You don’t have to be strong for me,” I say, voice breaking. “You don’t have to be the monster. You don’t have to be the lord. You don’t have to be anything but you.”
He doesn’t answer. Just pulls me closer, burying his face in my hair, his body trembling against mine. His arms tighten around me, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. Like he’s afraid this moment will break.
And maybe it will.
Maybe we’ll go back to fighting. To lying. To pretending we don’t ache for each other.
But not now.
Now, we’re here.
Now, we’re real.
Now, we’re us.
“I’ve never let anyone see me like this,” he says, voice rough, broken. “Not in centuries. Not even when Malrik broke my hands. Not when he made me watch her die. Not when he told me I was nothing but a vessel, a weapon, a thing.”
“And now?”
“Now I let you.”
“Because?”
“Because you’re not like them.” He lifts his head, his black eyes burning into mine. “You’re not afraid of me. You’re not in awe of me. You don’t want my power. You don’t want my blood. You don’t want my name.”
“What do I want?”
“Me.”
And he’s right.
I do.
Not the vampire lord.
Not the heir to a cursed bloodline.
Not the man who feeds on traitors in the open.
Just him.
The one who flinched when I slapped him.
The one who let me touch his face.
The one who carried me to this hidden chamber and made love to me like it was the first time he’d ever done it right.
“Then don’t hide from me,” I say, voice quiet. “Not anymore. Let me see you. All of you. The good. The bad. The broken. The beautiful.”
He doesn’t answer. Just kisses me.
Not violently. Not desperately.
Gently.
Softly.
Like a vow.
Like a beginning.
And I kiss him back.
Because I’m not afraid anymore.
Because I’m not alone.
Because the truth—
Is that I’m not here to unmake.
I’m here to become.
The bond hums—low, steady, satisfied.
Like a promise.
Like a curse.
Like the beginning of something neither of us can stop.
—
We stay like that for hours—wrapped in each other, the fire burning low, the runes on the walls pulsing faintly. I don’t sleep. Don’t want to. Don’t trust dreams. Not after what Malrik did. Not after what the Winter Court tried to make me.
But I don’t need sleep.
I have him.
And for now, that’s enough.
Eventually, the torches flicker. The air grows colder. The bond hums, restless, insistent. I press my palm to my sternum, as if I can hold the truth down by force. But it’s already there, burning in my veins.
The final vote is in five days.
Malrik is still out there.
Lira is still alive.
And the Oath—
It’s not broken.
It’s sleeping.
And when it wakes—
We’ll be ready.
Kaelen stirs, his arms tightening around me. “You’re thinking again.”
“You said I think too loud.”
“I did.” He lifts his head, his black eyes searching mine. “And you do.”
“And you?”
“I’m thinking about you.”
“Liar.”
“No.” He brushes my hair from my face. “I’m thinking about how you fought the Winter Sovereign. How you refused her. How you came back to me.”
“And?”
“And I’m thinking that I don’t deserve you.”
My breath catches.
“And I’m thinking that if I lose you, I’ll burn this city to the ground.”
“You won’t lose me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” I press my palm to his chest. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Not for power. Not for revenge. Not for anyone.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Because I choose to be.”
He doesn’t answer. Just pulls me closer, holding me tight, his face in my hair, my body pressed to his. The bond hums—low, steady, satisfied—but I can feel his heart, fast, unsteady, like it’s learning how to beat again.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he says, voice rough.
“I never wanted to.”
“Then let me stand with you.”
“Not as my enemy.”
“No.” He lifts my chin, his black eyes burning into mine. “As your equal.”
And for the first time, I believe him.
For the first time, I believe us.
“If I die,” I say, voice quiet, “promise me you’ll burn the Oath.”
“You won’t die,” he says. “Because I won’t let you.”
And then—
He kisses me.
Not violently. Not desperately.
Like a vow.
Like a beginning.
And I kiss him back.
Because I’m not afraid anymore.
Because I’m not alone.
Because the truth—
Is that I’m not here to unmake.
I’m here to become.
The bond hums—low, steady, satisfied.
Like a promise.
Like a curse.
Like the beginning of something neither of us can stop.