Page 159 of Scourged
Their magic danced together as he finally pushed into her, filling and forgiving and claiming.
She gasped for breath. “Fuck, Andrian—I am … you are …”
He rested a hand on the wall behind her, arm shaking. “I know, Mariah.” He held her gaze, so much unsaid whirling behind the blue. “I know.”
Then hemoved.
At first, his thrusts were slow and steady, almost hesitant.
But it wasn’t long until that bond between their souls burned hotter, shimmering with silver and gold and shadow and smoke. It rippled with the song of the moon and the sun and the stars, ancient powers greeting each other after so many millennia apart.
Their control snapped.
The wall behind her rattled and shook, their blended breathing ragged and desperate. Mariah rose again on that tide, their bond and the heavy expression in Andrian’s eyes carrying her up, higher and higher.
He pressed his forehead against hers, sweat dampened hair brushing across her face.
“Blind me,nio.”
The same words he’d used on the balcony. So many different times he’d told her exactly how he felt, but neither of them were ready to be truthful.
She whispered back words she’d doled out too sparingly the last time.
“I love you, Andrian.”
Together, they dropped over a bridge of light and shadow, their souls entwined as magic danced in the air around them.
Chapter 55
The bright spring sun was warm on Ryenne’s pale cheeks. She tipped her head, ignoring the stiffness in her neck and the pain in her back, closing her eyes against the glare.
She was always so cold now. Every muscle and joint in her body ached. Her skin sagged, her once-lovely blonde hair now grayed and thin. Most days, she could hardly get out of bed or leave her rooms.
Of course, that had nothing to do with her age. She’d been a shell of herself for months, ever since her seven Armature were brought down to six.
Other queens in the past had lost Armature before the end of their reigns. It sometimes happened; lives were often claimed by conflict long before old age had its chance. But those queens were young, at the height of their reigns, and could continue with the full power of the goddess in their veins.
Ryenne had no such luxury. Already weakened, already lost, Cedoric’s death had stolen the last of her fight.
Today, though … today, she’d forced herself from her bed. Had asked one of her ladies, Seiren, to help her dress and escort her down to her favorite courtyard garden. It was filled withcherry blossoms and azaleas, the latter’s floral blooms filling the air as butterflies flitted from flower to flower. She’d wanted to enjoy the palace, the beauty of her kingdom, one last time.
Because tomorrow was Mariah’s coronation. The formal beginning of the life of the eleventh Queen of Onita.
And with the beginning of one life, the other had to end.
“My Queen?” A familiar, beloved voice rumbled above her.
Ryenne cracked open her eyes, meeting Kalen’s deep brown gaze. He was just as aged as her, just as tired, but he’d always been stronger. He left their rooms every day and kept his presence in the palace known. But he always returned to her, never asking questions, only holding her close as her exhaustion drowned her.
Over three hundred and fifty years of life, and she was so, so tired.
She smiled up at him, invigorated by the sun’s warmth. “My love. Sit with me.”
He nodded, bracing himself heavily on his cane as he settled on the bench beside her.
She leaned against him with a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder.
“It is such a beautiful day today, don’t you think? With the azaleas blooming and the butterflies out in the gardens.”