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Smirking, he takes one of my hands and throws it over his shoulder, then rests his palm on my hip. The music is low and inviting, and the prince smiles, showing a pair of dimples.
“Hands off my wife, if you want to keep them.”
I blink, feeling as if awoken from a daze, and El’jah holds up his fists. “He came! I told you all I would bring D’Artaron here. Took me over half a century, but here he is. Fireworks, fireworks! Blow up the sky!”
People descend from behind the trees, service starts, and the music changes to something lively and bouncy. The entire island lights up as the party comes to life.
People cheer at the fireworks as D’Artaron stares down at me, teal eyes dark as a storm. He shakes his head, his wings fluttering behind him.
I blush, feeling guilty. “Are you mad I accepted his invitation and came here?”
He pulls off his T-shirt, then throws it on the ground.
At the sight of his naked chest and erect wings, my brain scrambles.
D’Artaron licks his lips and pulls me to him, our bodies touching. His mating scent pounds my senses. “I am very mad.” He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist and hang on to his neck, bringing our foreheads together.
“I am madly in love with you, Chloe, and there is no place I’d rather be than right here in the present moment with you.”
I cup his handsome face as the fireworks explode in the sky, my magic taking hold of them and making them last longer, making them extra bright. “I love you too, my king.”
I press my lips against his as lightning explodes in the sky.
D’Artaron looks toward the bolts of light my magic creates against the dark sky. “Mind yourself, my love.”
“Then put your shirt on, my king.”
EPILOGUE
D’Artaron
Three turns later
“The Summer army is mighty fine,” I shout as I walk the length of the fields filled with new recruits, most of whom come from the Northorn province. Since Chloe and I have taken the throne, we’ve seen more military volunteers than ever in the history of our court.
“Mighty fine,” I repeat, prompting them.
“Mighty fine, sire!”
I pause at the sight of two small soldiers in the lineup. They come to about my knee in height. Dise, thinner and slightly taller than his brother, inherited his mother’s red hair. I ruffle it before flicking the ear of his twin, Guer, who winks one teal-green eye at me and runs a hand through a mane of dark hair.
I crouch and tell my boys, “The Spring army must be mightier.”
“Mightier!” my twins shout.
I step away, heart full of pride. My sons, already soldiers. I could ask for nothing more.
Except for a baby girl. But I keep that shit to myself, as my queen is pregnant and hoping she can give me a healthy baby. Period. This pregnancy came rather unexpectedly and so soon after the boys were born that it robbed Chloe of time to run after the twins. She spent the time throwing up and lying in bed instead, so I’ve been taking the toddlers to work with me.
Hence, they’re attending the roundup.
I must say, training and disciplining thousands of grown males is much easier than disciplining toddlers, but I’m not one to walk away from duty, and it is my duty to see my sons grow up well behaved and worthy of the future throne.
“We will train as if our lives are at stake,” I shout. “This means we wake at dawn and train till dusk. Sleep is for…?” I prompt.
“Dragons.”
“Are we dragons?”
