Page 62 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

The world dissolved into heat and sensation. My hands tangled in his hair, holding on as wave after wave built until my voice broke on his name, the sound raw with release. I was trembling when he finally rose, his hands framing my face as if I were something precious, he refused to let go of.

He didn’t speak, didn’t need to—his intent was in every breath, every touch. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging to him as if holding on would keep the war outside from touching us. When he entered me, our magic flared, colliding like lightning striking dark water.

The familiar surge of his power wrapped around mine, and relief flooded me—he was still just as strong, just as unshakable. Dark Fire bled into the storm inside me, each pulse weaving us closer together until there was no line between where I ended and he began.

We moved together, slow at first, then faster as the magic built, each thrust sending sparks dancing over my skin. Our bond thrummed, alive and potent, feeding off our shared need. I felt his forehead press to mine, his breath uneven, and I held him tighter, willing him to feel everything I couldn’t put into words.

The climax came like a tidal wave—white-hot, unrelenting—crashing through us both at once. Magic exploded outward in a burst of light and shadow, painting the room in shifting hues before fading back into the steady rhythm of our breathing.

For a moment, there was only him, his heartbeat against mine, and the certainty that no matter what came next, we were stronger together.

Zander’s arms were solid and sure as he lifted me from the dresser, holding me against his chest as if I weighed nothing at all. The heat of his skin seeped into mine, the lingering hum of our magic settling into something quieter, more tender. He carried me the short distance to the bed and eased me down, sliding in beside me without letting go.

I tucked myself into the curve of his body, my cheek resting against his shoulder. His fingers traced idle patterns along my spine, the slow rhythm grounding me after the storm we’d just unleashed.

“When the war ends…” His voice was low, thoughtful, “things will not be much easier.”

I tilted my head to look at him. “Because of the Blood Fae.”

He nodded. “Even if Veralin and Severeth are dead, their influence will linger. Their generals, their loyalists… we don’t know their hierarchy. It could take years to track them all down.”

I exhaled slowly, my hand resting over his heart. “And the Crimson Sigil,” I murmured. “That will always be a threat. Those without magic believing they should rule.”

“Which means they’ll never stop coming for the crown.” His gaze softened, though the shadows in it didn’t fade. “For us.”

I traced the edge of his jaw with my fingertips. “Then we deal with them. Together. However long it takes.”

His arm tightened around me, pulling me even closer until I could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. “Together,” he agreed, his tone carrying the weight of a vow.

For a while, we lay there in silence, the crackle of the fire in the hearth the only sound. The war was still out there, waiting—but for now, we had this moment, and each other. And that was enough to keep the darkness at bay.

The day slipped past in a haze of warmth and quiet breathing. Zander’s arm draped over my waist, his fingers tangled lazily in mine, and for a while I let myself sink into the rare stillness. His heartbeat was the steady drum I measured time by, the afternoon light shifting slowly across the room.

Then Kaelith’s voice cut through the calm. The army is approaching the outpost to the east. Major Ledor has sent two squads into the air.

I tensed, already pushing up on an elbow. Zander’s eyes opened, bright and alert, and I knew he’d heard the same warning from Hein. For a second, we just looked at each other, a silent agreement passing between us before we moved.

We dressed quickly, pulling on layers with the urgency of people who knew every second mattered. My hands shook only once when I tightened my belt, and Zander’s gaze caught mine before he pulled on his riding armor. The shift from lover to warrior was like a switch being thrown, and the air between us sparked with that shared focus.

Boots hit the floor in quick, measured steps as we left the room, the warmth of the bed already fading behind us. By the time we reached the hall, the sounds of movement—armor clinking, hurried voices, the thud of boots—echoed up from below.

We made for the stairs, our strides matching in perfect rhythm, and the moment the castle doors opened, the crisp bite of wind and the low roar of dragon wings met us.

The Ascension Grounds lay ahead, banners snapping in the cold air, riders moving with practiced urgency as our dragons shifted and rumbled in anticipation of flight.

Zander was already moving the moment our boots hit the Ascension Grounds, grabbing Hein’s saddle from the rack. The leather straps and gleaming steel buckles caught the light as he hauled it into place, securing it with the speed of someone who had done this a thousand times.

I moved to Kaelith, my fingers working just as quickly over the familiar buckles and girths. Around us, Thrall Squad was a flurry of motion—Ferrula muttering to Narvea as she adjusted the cinch, Jax throwing Koddos’ heavy breastplate into place, Naia’s hands deft on Temil’s straps.

Major Ledor strode toward us, his expression hard but eyes intense with focus. “Provisions,” he said shortly, shoving a canvas bag into my hands before passing others to Zander, Ferrula, and Jax. The weight was reassuring—water, dried meat, extra medical wraps—and I hooked it to Kaelith’s rear strap.

Once mounted, I settled into the curve of Kaelith’s neck, her muscles bunching in anticipation under me. Zander swung into Hein’s saddle in a single smooth motion, his posture already radiating command.

Near the barracks, Riven stood with Cordelle at her side. Both lifted their hands in a quick wave, their smiles tight with the kind of encouragement meant to mask worry. I raised my hand in return before Kaelith’s wings unfurled, their deep-purple expanse blotting out part of the sky.

The takeoff was a familiar jolt with muscles flexing, wind rushing past, and the ground dropping away in a dizzying sweep. The world below became a tapestry of movement and shadow as we climbed, the scent of cold air filling my lungs.

We swept over the army to the east, their lines crawling forward like an iron-tipped tide. Standards rippled in the wind, and the clang of marching armor carried even at this height.