As we turn to leave, I can't help looking back once more. The Queen has pressed herself against the largest fissure, her pale fingers visible at the edges of the crack as if trying to pry it wider. Her mouth forms what might be a smile… terrible and beautiful all at once.
What the actual fuck is going on with this place.
CHAPTER 44
True Love’s Kiss
* * *
Fenrir Thorsson
"You have a lot more explaining to do, Fen," Astrid says as I usher her down the spiral staircase ahead of me.
"I know, my sweet mate. I know."
Her words are an understatement. The events in the tower—her name appearing on a chair at the Round Table, the pieces of Excalibur joining at her touch, the strengthening of the imprisoned queen's presence—have changed everything.
Again.
As we descend the winding steps, my thoughts race. The Table has chosen her. Not just as my mate, but as a Knight. Pride mingles with fear in my chest. Fear for what this means for our future.
My hand rests at the small of her back as we navigate the narrow stairs. Such a simple touch, yet it grounds me in a way nothing else has for centuries. My wolf stirs contentedly, reveling in her closeness, her scent, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Safe. She's safe. For now.
I love her. By the gods, I love her so completely.
The realization isn't new. It's been growing since the moment I first saw her on earth. I love Astrid Mathieson. Love her courage, her determination, her fierce loyalty. Love the way she adapts to each new revelation without breaking. Love how my soul recognizes hers, two broken pieces finally made whole.
Yet I haven't told her. Haven't spoken those words aloud, though they burn in my throat whenever I look at her. Five centuries of existence, and I find myself tongue-tied like a youth in the throes of first infatuation.
We reach the bottom of the staircase, stepping into a wide corridor lit by floating orbs of Fae light. I open my mouth to suggest we find a moment alone, away from everyone, when a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair strides toward us, his face set in lines of irritation. Toran. Ares’ guide. I look behind him for the elusive God of War, but don’t see him.
"Finally, someone I recognize," the man says, his gaze fixing on me. "You're one of the Knights, right? Thorsson?"
“Yes," I say, positioning myself slightly in front of Astrid.
The man sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "You know I'm Ares' guide, or I was until that bastard abandoned me in the Garden of Hesperides with Ladon and another dragon made of lotus flowers. I've been asleep for almost nine weeks."
"Toran?" Hawke's voice comes from behind us as he approaches along with Wraith and Boaz. "Where's Ares?"
Toran scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's a great fucking question. He tossed me up in the Garden with the dragons and I've been asleep for almost nine weeks."
Boaz lets out a bark of laughter. "He left you with Petals? She likes to sleep with visitors."
"Not funny," Toran snaps. "Someone finally found me and pulled me out of there and woke me up, thank the gods. But not before I lost two months of my life to a goddamn flower dragon's nap time."
Wraith's shoulders shake. "At least you got some rest?"
"Rest?" Toran’s eyes widen comically. "There was no rest. Have you forgotten what lotus pollen does to a person?"
Even Hawke cracks a smile at that. "Could have been worse. Ladon could have eaten you instead."
"I would have preferred it," Toran mutters. “I’m exhausted.”
"What does it do?" Astrid leans toward me.
I smile and whisper in her ear. "He had sex dreams. Lotus is a very potent aphrodisiac. But being exposed to that much of it. It would've been... a lot."
She covers her mouth and bites back a laugh.
