He knew. Heknew—and still, he asked, giving me the dignity of speaking it.
“The king of Vellos.”
“Tell me his name.”
My eyes closed as I rested my head against the damp moss, its cool scent rising around me. “Deimos.”
Deimos with sharp, elongated teeth and silken court games. The monster I thought I could outmaneuver in his own palace of marble and shadow. The king I believed I could wield like a blade, blind to the truth that I was the one balanced along his edge.
“He wanted you. Your blood, your body.”
“It was a game.” The words broke apart as they left me. My hand flew to my mouth, stifling the sound. A performance of want, painted in pretend lust.
“I was there, Nienna.” Kallias’ voice roughened, something feral beneath it. “I saw his body over yours, rutting like livestock before a crowd. His desire was not singular.” His fingers tightened around my knee as his mouth brushed my hip, breath warm against tender skin before moving inward. “He would have taken far more.”
The rough scrape of his jaw followed the curve of my thigh, kissing a slow path from the wound’s crown to its tail, circling my calf before traveling upward again. Heat lingered in his wake. His palm settled beneath my navel, broad and steady.
“But he didn’t. I came. He did not steal what was yours, what is ours.”
It hadn’t happened. My body was my own. This temple wasmine. It was damaged and broken—but cracked stone could be rebuilt. And I would rebuild. I would become more beautiful for the scars that littered my flesh. They were a testament to what I’d endured, what Icouldendure. No, they were not weakness. They were record. A show of strength.
He braced himself above me, weight balanced on his forearms. When I blinked through tears, he held my gaze.
“You are your own. Your heart. Your soul.” His voice lowered, conviction steady as bedrock. “Does wine lose value because it’s poured into clay? Is grain worth more coin because it’s wrapped in gold thread?” The fury in his face eased, something gentler shaping his mouth. “You are so much more than a treaty, more than a kingdom. More than every star scattered across the night. Whoever you choose to share yourself with is blessed beyond measure.”
A sob tore free, fierce and raw. He made it sound so simple. As if shame were nothing more than dust brushed from skin. The filth I carried dissolved beneath his words, burned away like a shadow under full sun.
My hands framed his face and pulled him down to me.
His arms circled tight but careful, lowering his weight with deliberate restraint, mindful of bruises and stitches. Our lips met under the hush of moonlight, soft and reverent, healing wounds I could only begin to understand.
The Heart of Sol blinded me.
Kallias led the way into the cavernous city, fingers entwined with mine, tugging me forward. What had once been dark and colorless now blazed with mirrored sunlight. When I last stepped into the Andeluith, silence had pressed against the stone like a tomb. But today, laughter ricocheted off the towering walls, children’s shrieks weaving through the warm murmur of conversation. The whole space thrummed with life.
“It’s so much brighter,” I murmured, clutching his arm as light fractured across white stone. Ghosts of failure brushed the edges of my thoughts, thin as cobweb silk, but the smile he gave me scattered them.
“The mirrors have been repaired.” He guided me toward a small iron cage suspended from a system of pulleys high above, embedded in pale rock.
A shudder slipped down my spine. One tremor, a single fracture in that ceiling, and the mountain would swallow us whole. Beauty or not, who chose to live beneath thousands of tons of stone?
“They draw sunlight from the surface. Some even grow crops, though hauling compost this far costs dearly.” The cage descended to our level, guided by a long iron rod fixed into the wall.
My gaze tracked the thick chains and metal lattice curling along its sides before lifting to the pulley again. “Are there no stairs?”
“You’ll soar on dragonback for days, yet a lift unsettles you.” His voice dipped, amusement warming his tone.
I glanced at the nearby soldiers and craftsmen. I had more faith in dragons than in the hands of men—but that confession stayed locked behind my teeth. For now.
When he left solid ground for the iron platform, metal rang with the impact, chains rattling above. He moved toward the center and held out his hand.
If Kallias, who despised heights, could endure it, so could I. Fear would not rob me of this city.
I stepped onto the platform, and it trembled under my weight, a hollow pulse that rolled through my stomach. Instinct shifted me backward, ready to retreat, but his arm circled my waist and steadied me.
“Easy.” His voice brushed my hair.
A guard swung the wrought-iron door shut. The latch snapped into place with a decisive clang.
