The morning after Paris dawned crisp and gold, the city stretching beneath a veil of mist that burned off by midday. I stood at the edge of the balcony in our guest suite, the air cool against my skin, the scent of rain and old stone clinging to the breeze. Below, Paris woke slowly—humans rushing to work, supernaturals slipping through the shadows, the world turning, unaware of the war we’d just won. Again.
Kaelen stood behind me, his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. He hadn’t spoken since we woke. Not because he was distant. Not because he was cold. But because he was *watching*. Always watching. Always protecting. His golden eyes scanned the rooftops, the alleyways, the flicker of movement in the shadows. He was a storm contained, a force held in check. And I—
I was the eye.
“They’ll come for us,” I said, breaking the silence. “Not just the witches. The Fae. The Blood Pact remnants. Anyone who fears what we are.”
“Let them,” he murmured, his breath warm against my neck. “We’ve faced worse.”
I didn’t smile. Just pressed my hand to the hilt of *Shadowline*, its runes faintly pulsing beneath my fingers. The blade had saved me. It had killed Lucien. It had taken Veylan’s heart. And now, it would hang at my side as I claimed what was mine.
“Cassian sent word,” Kaelen said, stepping back. “Mira wants to meet. Neutral ground. The old clock tower in Montmartre. Sundown.”
I turned, my green eyes meeting his. “And what does the Fae ambassador want?”
He didn’t answer. Just handed me a sealed scroll—crimson wax, marked with a silver crescent. The Fae sigil. I broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. The message was brief, written in elegant script:
You’ve broken the chains. Now, break the debts.
And beneath it—
Cassian owes me a century.
I didn’t flinch. Just folded the scroll and slipped it into my tunic. “Then we go.”
—
We arrived at the clock tower at dusk.
The structure loomed above the city, ancient stone weathered by time, its hands frozen at ten past eight. The Fae didn’t believe in human time. They believed in *moment*. In truth. In oaths that bound soul to soul.
Mira stood at the top of the spiral staircase, her silver hair shimmering in the fading light, her wings folded tight against her back. She wore no glamour tonight. No illusion to soften her edges. Just truth. Her eyes—pale as moonlight—locked onto mine as we ascended, her expression unreadable.
Cassian stood beside her, his arms crossed, his amber eyes sharp. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t look at Kaelen. Just stared at the city below, his jaw tight, his body coiled like a blade about to strike.
“You came,” Mira said, her voice like wind through glass.
“You summoned us,” I said. “So I came.”
She didn’t smile. Just stepped aside, revealing a small stone altar at the center of the tower. On it lay a single object—a silver chalice, etched with Fae runes, its surface glowing faintly. An Oath Vessel. Used to bind, to reveal, to *claim*.
“A century,” she said. “That’s what he owes me. One night of passion. One kiss of truth. And in return, a hundred years of debt.”
Cassian didn’t move. Just kept staring at the city.
“He never agreed,” I said.
“He didn’t have to,” she said. “The kiss was real. The truth was spoken. The debt was sealed.”
“And what truth was spoken?” Kaelen asked, his voice low.
Mira turned to Cassian. “Tell them.”
He didn’t hesitate.
“I said I loved her,” he said, his voice rough. “That night, in Prague. I said I’d leave the packs. That I’d walk away from everything. That I’d spend a century by her side.”
Silence.
Thick. Heavy. *Real*.
“And did you mean it?” I asked.
He finally looked at me. “Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you go?”
“Because Veylan was rising. Because Kaelen needed me. Because the packs were on the edge of war.” His jaw tightened. “Because duty is a chain too.”
Mira didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, her hand rising to the chalice. “The debt stands. And I am within my rights to claim it.”
“And if we refuse?” Kaelen asked.
“Then the Fae will withdraw from the Council,” she said. “No more alliances. No more treaties. And if war comes—” Her pale eyes burned. “—we will not stand with you.”
I didn’t look at Kaelen. Just stepped forward, my boots clicking against the stone. “You want a century of his life?” I said. “Then take it.”
Mira blinked. “What?”
“Take it,” I said. “But not as debt. Not as punishment. As *choice*.”
“Elara—” Kaelen started.
“No,” I said, holding up a hand. “This isn’t about power. It’s about truth. Cassian loves her. She loves him. And if we’re going to rebuild the balance, we start by honoring love—not using it as a weapon.”
Mira studied me—really studied me—like she was seeing me for the first time. Not just the queen. Not just the warrior. But the woman who had stepped in front of a blade for the man she loved. The woman who had chosen justice over vengeance. The woman who had *won*.
And then—
She smiled.
Not cruel. Not mocking.
But *real*.
“You’re not what I expected,” she said.
“Neither are you,” I said.
She turned to Cassian. “Do you still mean it?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Then the debt is void,” she said, lifting the chalice. “But the choice remains. A century. With me. By your side. Not because of magic. Not because of oath. But because you *want* to.”
He didn’t speak.
Just stepped forward, took her hand, and pulled her into his chest.
And the tower—
It didn’t erupt in cheers.
Didn’t burst into light.
But the air shifted.
It wasn’t tension anymore.
It wasn’t fear.
It was *release*.
And when they kissed—slow, deep, like a vow—the chalice shattered, its silver shards scattering across the stone, the runes fading into dust.
“You’re free,” I said.
Cassian pulled back, his amber eyes burning. “I never was until now.”
—
We left the tower together, our steps in sync, our presence a wall. The city was quiet now, the streets empty, the air thick with tension. But not fear.
Not anymore.
“You gave him up,” Kaelen said as we walked.
“I didn’t give him up,” I said. “I set him free. And if we’re going to rule, we rule with trust. Not chains.”
He didn’t argue. Just pulled me into his side, his arm tight around my waist. “You’re going to change everything, aren’t you?”
“I already have,” I said. “And I’m just getting started.”
—
We returned to the guest suite at midnight.
The city pulsed below, the rain gone, the sky clear, the air thick with tension. I moved to the window, staring out at Paris as it bled into night. The moon was high, silver and sharp, casting long shadows across the stone. Sundown. The veil between worlds was thin.
“They gave in,” I said, not turning. “But they don’t believe in us.”
Kaelen stepped behind me, his chest pressing to my back, his breath warm against my neck. “They don’t have to. They just have to *follow*.”
I turned in his arms, my hands sliding up his chest, my lips brushing his jaw. “Touch me,” I whispered. “Please.”
He didn’t hesitate.
His hands were rough, possessive, *alive* as they gripped my waist, lifting me off the ground, pinning me against the wall. His mouth moved over mine—fierce, hungry, *devouring*. His tongue clashed with mine, a battle for dominance, for control, for *truth*. His cock—hard, thick, *alive*—pressed against my thigh, sending shockwaves through me.
And the bond—oh, the bond—exploded.
Fire. Light. *Need*.
I arched into him, my legs wrapping around his hips, my hands clawing at his back, desperate to feel more, to *have* more. His hands roamed my back, my ass, pulling me tighter, *closer*. His teeth scraped my lip, drawing blood, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through me.
“Elara,” he growled against my mouth. “Gods, you taste like fire.”
I didn’t answer. Just kissed him harder, deeper, my body screaming for release, for *him*. His hands slid under my thighs, lifting me higher, and then—
He entered me.
Slow.
Deep.
Like a vow.
I cried out, my head falling back, my nails raking his shoulders. Pleasure—sharp, electric—ripped through me. My core tightened, my breath came in short, desperate pulls, my body trembling on the edge.
He didn’t move. Just held me there, buried inside me, his breath ragged against my neck, his heart pounding against my chest.
“Look at me,” he said, voice rough.
I did.
His golden eyes burned. “You’re mine,” he said. “Not because of the bond. Not because of fate. But because you *chose* me.”
“I did,” I whispered. “And I’ll choose you again. And again. And again.”
He smiled—soft, real, *his*—and then he moved.
Slow at first. Deep. Then faster. Harder. A rhythm that matched the pulse of the bond, the beat of our hearts, the fire in our blood.
And I met him—every thrust, every breath, every groan. My hips rose to meet his, my nails dug into his back, my voice a whisper of his name.
And the bond—oh, the bond—flared gold, wrapping around us, sealing us, *claiming* us.
When I came, it wasn’t with a scream.
It was with a sob.
Not from pain.
Not from pleasure.
But from *truth*.
Because I wasn’t just Elara Shadowline.
I wasn’t just a hybrid.
I wasn’t just a queen.
I was *his*.
And he was *mine*.
And nothing—no lie, no betrayal, no vengeance—could ever take that away.
He followed, his body shuddering, his breath a ragged gasp against my neck, his cock pulsing inside me. And when he stilled, he didn’t pull out.
Just held me, his arms tight around me, his face buried in my hair, his breath steady.
And the bond—oh, the bond—hummed between us, warm and insistent, a second heartbeat syncing with his.
Not a curse.
Not a prison.
A promise.
And when I finally slept, I didn’t dream of shadows or blood or Veylan.
I dreamed of sunlight.
And a garden.
And a man with golden eyes who whispered, *“I’ll save you.”*
And I believed him.
—
The next morning, we received word from Cassian.
He and Mira had left Paris at dawn. No grand farewell. No final words. Just a single note, left on my pillow:
Thank you. For everything.
And beneath it—a silver feather, glowing faintly in the morning light.
I held it in my palm, feeling the warmth, the magic, the *truth*.
“They’re gone,” I said.
Kaelen stepped beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Good. He deserves peace.”
“And what about us?” I asked, turning to him. “Do we deserve peace?”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his chest, his arms tight around me, his heartbeat steady against mine.
And the bond—oh, the bond—flared, not with fire, not with need, but with *trust*.
When we broke apart, our breaths tangled, our foreheads touching, he whispered—
“We don’t need peace.
We have *us*.”