Page 82 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

Leyriam’s breath caught, his features registering recognition and then awe. Slowly, almost reverently, he grasped Zander’s forearm in the warriors’ shake. “My name is Leyriam. It is fortunate to have a king who will fight for his people.” His voice softened. “But I am not surprised. A son of Alahathrial could be no other. He gave up everything to ensure both our peoples survived.”

Zander’s jaw flexed, the slightest flicker of emotion crossing his face. He nodded curtly, but I saw the storm of questions in his eyes. About Alahathrial. About the father who had chosen duty over everything else.

I stepped closer, brushing my fingers against his wrist before I turned to Leyriam. “We need to find out what happened in Warriath.” My voice was steadier than I felt, but the urgency pressed on my chest.

Leyriam’s gaze swept over the ruined courtyard, lingering on the shattered remnants of Veralin’s domain. His pale braid shifted against his armor as the wind stirred, but his expression was steady, voice carrying a weight that made my chest tighten.

“The war in your homeland is over,” he said, his tone edged with quiet finality. “Once the Blood Fae abandoned them, the human rebels stood no chance against the dragons of color. That too was foretold in the prophecy.” His words hung in the air, strange, almost too good to be believed.

My heart jolted. Could it truly be? Images of Warriath, its walls, its people, its soldiers, flashed in my mind. For so long it had been nothing but fire and ash, war drums and fear. I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

Slowly, I turned to Zander. He stood tall despite the exhaustion pulling at his shoulders, Dark Fire still shimmering along his hands as if his magic hadn’t yet settled. His eyes, bright and unyielding, searched the horizon as though he were already weighing possibilities beyond this moment.

“What do you want to do next?” I asked him softly, my voice almost breaking against the enormity of what we’d endured—what still waited ahead.

His gaze flicked to me then, storm-dark and unreadable, as if the question reached deeper than either of us could admit.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

Zander’s jaw tightened as though he were steeling himself, then he slowly dropped to one knee before me. My breath caught in my chest. Dust and ash still lingered in the air, the ruins of Veralin’s reign surrounding us, but none of that mattered when he slipped the silver ring from his own hand.

Dark Fire shimmered around the band as if it, too, recognized the importance of this moment. He looked up at me, his bright-lavender eyes cutting straight through the chaos.

“I don’t want you to think for another minute,” his voice was rough, raw, “that I would ever accept my role as king without you at my side.”

My lips parted, but the words tangled in my throat. My heart hammered so hard I thought Kaelith might hear it. “Why now?” I whispered, overwhelmed by the sheer audacity of it, by the heat in his gaze that seared straight through my soul.

“Because there’s nothing left to wait for,” he said simply. “Because I need you to know, need everyone to know, that I will not do this without you.”

My eyes burned, a rush of tears making the ruined world blur. “I don’t know what to say,” I choked, voice shaking as my whole body trembled with the force of too many emotions at once.

He smirked, tilting his head with that infuriating, impossible charm that had undone me from the start. “How about yes?”

A laugh broke from me, tangled with a sob, and I dropped to my knees in front of him, throwing my arms around his shoulders. The ring pressed between our palms as I clung to him, heart splitting wide open.

“Yes,” I whispered into his ear, again and again.

Around us, the riders cheered, voices rising like the roar of dragons in the skies. The Light Fae lifted their blades, shouting in unison, their victory cry echoing through the broken courtyard. Even Kaelith’s thunderous roar joined the chorus, a sound that vibrated through my bones and set my soul alight.

In that moment, surrounded by ash and ruin, by blood and fire and the scent of storm, there was only him—Zander, my king, my future husband, my everything. And there was only us.

His lips crashed against mine, and I didn’t care that we were being watched by riders, by fae, by gods themselves if they chose to witness. Every wall I had built to protect myself crumbled in the fire of his kiss. All the waiting, all the wondering if he could ever truly choose me, not just a commoner, not just Kaelith’s rider, but the granddaughter of the Blood Fae king, melted away beneath the press of his mouth.

The burden I had carried since the moment I bonded with Kaelith—the fear that I would never be enough—lifted from my shoulders like smoke torn apart by the wind. I kissed him as if it were the last moment of my life, like every breath in my body belonged to him.

Time stopped.

The battlefield, the fae, the endless blood and ruin, it all vanished until there was only his heartbeat against mine and the taste of him flooding me with something I’d been starved of my entire life. Hope.

Then a shrill cry shattered the stillness.

It pierced up from the cavern below, jagged and desperate, the sound so full of agony it froze the blood in my veins. Zander and I broke apart, scrambling to the side of the broken stone. I leaned over the jagged ledge with him, staring down into the yawning blackness where the caged dragons thrashed.

The cry rose again, echoing off the cavern walls. A sound of hunger. Of rage. Of something dying—or being born.

The imprisoned black dragons thrashed against their confines.