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Nodding, he hugged me fiercely, and I embraced him with the same need. My eyes fell closed, arms cradling him to me when his face nestled in the curve of my neck. I loved Braxton more than I ever thought possible, and I wanted everything he envisioned for us. Now, it was up to us to make it happen.
The minutes stretched in silence as we stood there, taking each other in, and our vow… until we remembered Imogen was still in the room.
“I am so sorry,” I offered, mortified, finally letting go of Brax—though I really didn’t want to do it. “We got lost in each other.” My gaze found Imogen standing near the hearth, fidgeting with the leather bag she had brought.
“Oh, honey, it’s absolutely fine,” she replied, walking towards us again. “It was a beautiful thing to witness, even if it wasn’t meant to be seen by me.”
An honest and appreciative expression illuminated her features, and the loving way she regarded us reminded me of my aunt, Amma.
Next to me, Braxton chuckled, facing the woman who was his new mentor.
“Soon everyone else is going to be witnessing it. It won’t be long before we finally announce our pairing to our people. I’m just waiting for Brax to be ready,” I teased, glancing at my mate to gauge his reaction.
Now more than ever, I had no doubts about the love he felt for me, but I knew there were certain things he wanted to do in his own way, like talk to Kingston. I respected that, but I could still tease him about it though.
“Subtle,” Brax replied, his eyes narrowed on me, even when his lips twitched in amusement.
“I’m doing absolutely nothing but stating the facts,” I defended, looking at Imogen for support.
“Absolutely,” she agreed, bringing the smile back to his face.
“Just give me a few days,” my mate conceded, leaning to kiss my cheek. “There is something I need to do.”
“And on that note…” Imogen lifted the leather bag to Braxton. “I brought this for you, darling. Your father left it for you.”
Curiosity bloomed in both of us at once, and our eyes met a moment before Braxton hurriedly took the bag, opening it.
“My father’s armor?” he breathed, pulling out the striking black and gold arm shield the Harbinger of Justice had worn. Elegant swirls and leaves were carved on the shoulder guard, adorning the smoky-black iron in its center while smooth gold bands extended along the edge.
“The late king and queen gave it to me to safeguard after Khayden took you and your mom with him,” Imogen confessed. “I was to keep it secure until its rightful owner came to claim it. You are here now, Braxton, so it is yours.”
Braxton’s corded muscles tensed, his jaw clenching with emotion as he took in the significance of it, and I knew just how much it meant for him to have that from his father. Especially, knowing that Khayden had meant for him to have it.
I couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like to have my mother’s armor with me… but her body had never been recovered.
“Thank you,” he offered to her, unable to say much else.
Holding the arm shield close, he continued digging in the leather bag to extract his father’s black leather pants, boots and shin guards, gauntlets, and a long leather cloak. He took his time, placing it all on the bed to display the outfit to its full, magnificent glory—including the muscle-sculpted breastplate with the Devenish Dragon crest on the chest.
“I know the legion’s arm shields are a mixture of old and new,” Braxton finally spoke, turning to look at me. “The chief told me he and the other sentries who rebelled, took apart their armors and created something to protect our warriors. But why is my father’s armor so formal… So elegant?”
Imogen and I exchanged a glance, and she gave a nod, saying I should be the one to tell him.
Stepping closer to him, I placed a gentle hand over his arm.
“It is so beautiful because it is the original suit of Raithian’s Crimson Army. You see, the man who killed your grandfather that day, inciting the Uprising, wasn’t just any sentry. He was their general. Your father took his life in turn, reclaiming his armor to fight against the Warlock King. The Harbinger of Justice took what was once a symbol of terror and death against our people, and transformed it into an icon of strength and hope for us.”
Braxton’s expression shifted from understanding to admiration before me, and he bent down, slowly caressing his family’s Dragon crest.
“Then I will wear it just as my father did, to destroy the evil darkening our world,” he vowed.
“And so it shall be,” Imogen and I echoed.
“This part of my mission is done, so I shall wait for you outside,” Imogen added, bowing her head to us, and walking out of the room to give us a moment.
Once she was gone, my mate turned to face me, that hope I admired in him turning into fierce determination, even as a new thought seemed to enter his eyes. “Baby, have you spoken to Willow?”
My chest constricted at the reminder of what my friend said to him, and the pain she was reliving. “I tried when I took her dinner last night, but she is hurting so much. I think we need to give her time to process, to realize the truth, and come to your side again on her own.”
