The ground shudders again, and the warded circle where I left Gwen as I battled the shadow creature suddenly appears green beneath a dusting of white snow. And beneath the snow, the life force of fae magic glimmers brightly. Ussha. It’s still here. Thank the gods.
But the black frost is gone. Simply… vanished.
Gwen’s breath catches in her throat.
I send her a wave of praise through the bond.The black frost is vanishing, I say into her mind.Because of you. Because you knew what needed to be done.
Because she is the young woman who was always fascinated by maps, trade routes, stories of faraway lands, and trinketsfrom distant places. Because she listened to the frantic, strange words of an elderly man—a Fatekeeper—and didn’t dismiss him as softminded.
I hug her closer, this precious human female who I am proud to call my mate, and nuzzle her nose against mine. Then we both peer out at the landscape, watching as the black frost continues to vanish. As it disappears, moving outward in a circle, nothing but snow-dusted greenery glimmering with ussha remains behind.
“It’s gone,” she whispers. “The black frost. It’s truly gone.”
It’s over. Gods. It’s truly over.
Relief rushes through me, and I sense Gwen’s relief through the bond as well. We cling to one another as I hover above the restored landscape.
She shifts in my arms and peers up at me. A tiny smile drifts across her lips, and to my surprise, I detect a hint of mischief flitting through her. But also… longing.
Take me to that lavish inn you told me about, she says through the bond.I want… I want us to consummate the mating bond. I am ready. I want you, Merak. I want to belong to you, and I want you to belong to me. Thousands of years. Together.
CHAPTER 21
GWEN
We reachthe fae settlement of Yellona as dusk settles across the land, the setting sun slipping behind the mountains while the surrounding forest glimmers with ussha-blessed vegetation. The last rays of golden light catch on snow-dusted branches and frost-laced bushes, making the landscape shimmer even as the sky darkens.
The town itself is brightly illuminated despite the approaching night. Blue lanterns line the streets, their radiant glow reflecting across the snow, and firepits crackle in places where faefolk are gathered. Outside taverns and shops, small groups linger in the cold, talking and laughing.
Merak circles lower over the settlement, holding me securely in his arms. From above, Yellona looks almost unreal. The streets curve around buildings crafted from blue stone and dark wood, their steep rooftops blanketed in snow. Bridges arch over narrow, frozen streams that curve through the settlement, and every surface seems touched by winter magic.
As Merak descends toward the main street, I tighten my hold around his neck and stare in wonder. The frost decorating the buildings isn’t natural. I can tell that much immediately. The patterns are too deliberate, too elegant. Spirals and vines twist around doorways and window frames, branching into glittering designs that resemble flowers, snowflakes, and curling leaves.
He lands lightly on the cobblestone street. Our eyes meet, and warmth deepens through the bond. Before setting me down, he presses a lingering kiss to my forehead.
“My dearest,” he murmurs. Then white light flashes around him, and his massive wings vanish.
He takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and sends me another wave of affection.
“Merak,” I say. “My mate.”
A pleased growl rumbles through him. He likes when I refer to him as my mate. He likes knowing we will belong to one another forever.
Of course, we must seal the deal, so to speak.
We must physically consummate our union.
My face grows warm, and the sudden intake of his breath tells me he’s just heard my thoughts. When I reach toward his mind, I sense his need. His fervent longing. He’s eager to get me alone at the inn.
Eager to fully claim me. Finally.
“Come,” he says. “The inn is this way.”
He leads me down the cobblestone street while I stare openly at everything around us. Faefolk pass by wrapped in cloaks, music drifts from somewhere farther ahead, and laughter peals out from the windows of the taverns. A large wooden sign hangs above an especially grand building farther down the street: FROST HOUSE.
My breath catches.
The inn is unlike anything I have ever seen.
