Page 51 of Crownless Heirs

With a final, lingering look that promised absolute ruin, Kyron turned and vanished into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him. The room fell into a heavy silence. Sorcha’s heart was still hammering a frantic rhythm, her lips still burning from Kyron’s kiss. She expected Maelan to leave or demand answers, instead, Maelan shifted. His hand still on her thigh, the other hand he wrapped about her back and pulled her into him.

“Sorcha,” he breathed, his voice an undone rumble against her skin. “If I don’t leave this room right now, I don't know if I'm going to leave it at all.”

“Don’t go,” she whispered. The nightmare, the crushing weight of the crown, the dizzying ache in her heart—it all faded into the background. She didn’t want safety at a distance. She needed him here. She needed to feel alive. “Maelan, please.”

Maelan didn’t hesitate. He leaned in, his mouth capturing hers with a fierce, possessive heat that made her entire body arch into his. When his weight settled over hers, the rest of the world ceased to exist. His hands were no longer just grounding her; they were worshiping her. His mouth and hands mapping out every inch of her body. Sorcha let out a moan, arching up to meet him as his fingers tangled in her hair, locking his mouth back to hers. In the quiet of the shadows the last of her defenses dissolved entirely.

Hours later, the storm in her mind had cleared. Sorcha lay tangled in the heavy blankets, her cheek pressed against the solid, warm expanse of Maelan’s bare chest. His strong arm wrapped securely around her waist, holding her flush against him as if he were guarding her even in his sleep. She was floating in that heavy, hazy space between dreams and reality, her eyelids too heavy to open. She felt a soft shift in the mattress as Maelan leaned down, his lips brushing a tender, lingering kiss against her temple.

“I have to go back to my room, firelight,” he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated against her ear. He sounded fiercely reluctant, his thumb tracing one last slow circle on her bare shoulder.

Sorcha let out a sleepy, incoherent murmur, leaning her face deeper into the warmth of the pillow as he carefully pulled the sheets up to her chin. She heard the faint, rustling sound of him gathering his clothes in the dark, followed by the whisper of the heavy oak door clicking shut. She let herself sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Soft chirping woke Sorcha as the sun began to rise, shades of lilac and soft blush painting the sky. The chirping continued from the balcony, and she dragged herself over and pushed the door open. Nestled on stone railing was a tiny, trembling hatchling covered in downy fleece of glowing ruby fluff, but a set of golden talons and leathery wings stood out. Curious, she reached out to touch the little bird, but it screeched loudly in a panic and she instantly pulled her hand back.

“Shh, it’s alright,” she gently said, trying to soothe the little bird.

Softly she began to sing a little melody, “Oh, wee child of crimson feathers, How thy hiding in golden sun, Makes the fields look ablaze…”

She continued to hum the tune while extending her hand again. This time, the hatchling quieted, leaning into her fingers. it felt incredibly hot against her skin but it didn’t burn her. Suddenly a massive shadow fell over the balcony. The magnificent and terrifying Ellén Trechend landed heavily in front of her, the rush of its wings bringing a blast of wind and heat, Sorcha stumbled back in fear. The great beast stood perfectly still, examining Sorcha with a long unyielding gaze. Satisfied, the mother dragon looked at her hatchling, gently scooping it up in her wings.

“We’ll meet again,” a voice whispered in a deep gravely voice. The creature then took flight into the morning light, leaving Sorcha alone on the Balcony.

The sudden silence of the room snapped her back to reality. The sky was fully awake now, the lilac shifting into a bright, rose gold.

We have to go.

She whirled away from the window, the lingering awe instantly replaced by a surge of frantic energy. Moving quickly through the quiet house, she threw open the guest room doors.

“Wake up! Everyone, up now,” she called out as she grabbed her traveling pack from the floor. “We’re burning daylight, and we need to be on the road before the sun clears the tree line.”

The house erupted into a flurry of groans, rustling blankets, and the sudden clatter of boots as Kyron and Maelan scrambled to their feet, jolted awake by the sudden morning call. The door clicked open, and Maelan stepped out into the hallway. His hair was a wild, sleep-matted mess. He looked at her face, searching for answers but only met the eyes of a woman determined to get moving. He leaned against the doorframe with a quick, testing smirk toward Kyron’s room and knocked on the wall. “Move your lagging assets, Kyron. I, for one, would prefer to keep my hair un-plucked today.”

“I am moving!” Kyron emerged, frantically shoving a stray boot onto his foot while juggling his sword belt. He tripped over the threshold, catching himself against the wall with a scowl. “You two are entirely too energetic for this hour. Especially after last night.”

“We have a long road to Finías,” Sorcha said quickly, her face flushing. She checked her gear one last time, taking a deep breath of the cool, morning air. The lilac skies were burning away, replaced by the bright, demanding magenta sky.

24

Tuatha Council

The Tuatha Dé Danann ruled from four great cities, each safeguarding its own sacred treasure. But at the heart of their realm stood Finias, a place where truth was absolute, and a god’s word carried the weight of an unbreakable force. Within these shimmering halls, the divine leaders gathered to uphold the balance of the realms.

Sorcha found it sickeningly ironic.

That such honorable, radiant deities could abandon their own flesh and blood. In a city where judgment was supposedly measured by a soul’s actions, every God on the council deserved imprisonment by their own hypocritical standards. They should be made to answer for the children they left behind in the mortal world, the unwanted, the forgotten, the ones carrying divine blood deemed too unworthy for their paradise. How could those who brought life into the world discard it without so much as granting them a name? A slow, burning rage coiled tight in her chest as they descended the final ridge and Finías came into full view.

At the city’s center loomed a massive domed hall, held aloft by pillars so vast they resembled the trunks of ancient trees. But these were no ordinary columns. Each was a meticulously sculpted God of the courts, their stone expressions solemn, a hand raised to bear the weight of the dome above. They were carved to remind the citizens of their duty to justice. Even from this distance, their stern stone eyes seemed to track Sorcha’s every step. One held a stone. Another, a spear. A third carried a blade, its edge gleaming impossibly bright despite being made of rock. The fourth held a giant cauldron, carved to look as though it were overflowing with endless abundance.

The bridge ahead shimmered, its surface woven from flowing script that rippled like water yet held firm. Smooth, carved runes lined the edges, matching the ancient markings of the Keep. Below it, a violent river surged.

Sorcha and Maelan hesitated. The bridge looked fragile, its visibility shifting, like a clouded window. Sorcha thought to herself that one wrong step, and they’d end up in the current below, swallowing them.

Kyron, however, stepped forward without a thought. The moment his boot touched the surface, the script beneath him flared, pulsing a vibrant gold before settling into an illuminated path. The words flowed beneath his stride like a river of living knowledge.

“Don’t be scared, you two,” he said, casting a smirk over his shoulder.

Sorcha inhaled the crisp air and stepped forward. The script ignited beneath her sole, curling into frantic, jagged words she couldn’t read before dimming back to a dull glow. A sharp shiver ran down her spine, though she couldn’t explain why.