Page 116 of The Blood Crown

"You command them." She gestured to their family. "But you don't command me."

Ven flinched, as if the words had struck him. And his expression softened, his shoulders dropping as he held her gaze. “Seth,” he finally ordered, “take two dozen Wraiths with you, find Lanthius and help him gather what he needs.”

“I’ll go with him,” Valea offered, taking a step from the shadows of the room. The fact that she was in this room at all, a small olive branch. “You need hands,” she added at the questioning look from Ven. “I have hands.”

“Good,” Ven replied after a moment. His gaze fell across the table to Nira. “Send scouts to find an opening.” He glanced atKarro, whose eyes still trailed Valea’s silvery-white braid out of the room. “Tell Hathos that our time is up. Whatever blades he has, we need.” He looked to Asher next. “We need human blood to pass through the wards—a human to open the portal for us.”

Every pair of red eyes looked to where her brother stood at the edge of the room, but Asher did not shrink from the attention as he gave a nod.

The armory doors were thrown open, revealing the Wraiths readying for battle.

Karro stood at the wall of blades, a broadsword already strapped down his back. Valea stood at the opposite side of the room, eyes raking over the cases before she selected a quiver full of black-tipped arrows, slinging her silver-bleached bow across her shoulder.

Dark blades gleamed down Nira’s muscled thighs and against her lean arms where she still cinched straps. Seth stood off to one side with Asher, the Wraith showing her brother how to attach hexes to the bandolier across his chest.

Aurelia's heart clenched at the sight, steps faltering for a moment as she selected her own weapons. Ven was already beside her, efficiently sheathing blades against his body, muscles flexing as he deftly tightened the buckles.

Embra appeared at the open doorway, a pack over her shoulders as she crossed the space—russet eyes focused on her wife. Nira clasped a hand behind her neck, her bronze forehead dropping to meet Embra’s dew green skin, nose buried in the thick emerald strands of her hair. “Are you ready, darling?” she murmured.

Embra nodded, brown eyes blazing with determination. She was the gentlest of all of them—but only a fool would mistake it for weakness.

Adoration burned behind Nira's eyes as she tucked Embra into her body. Her shadows swept around them, and a moment later the two females disappeared.

Karro was next, gripping her brother’s forearm as darkness wrapped around them. “See you on the other side,” he uttered.

Valea took a step closer to Seth, eyes narrowing as the Wraith offered his hand, and Aurelia wondered if that was partly why she’d asked to go with him . . . because it wouldn’t feel quite so intimate. In an instant, they too, were gone.

Until only she and Ven remained.

He knelt before her, the intricate hilt of Flamecleaver peaking over his shoulder as he re-checked the straps that secured her blades, more out of superstition than distrust, she suspected.

His hands lingered, sliding up the backs of her thighs as his crimson eyes lifted to hers. Standing, he pulled a large sheath from a nearby hook, holding the straps open for her to slip her arms through. She didn’t question as he cinched it around her waist, running a finger beneath the leather, making sure it was snug.

Wordlessly, he disappeared into a darkened alcove of the Armory, reappearing a few moments later with a sword.

Not just any sword—

The relic.

“How did you—" she began as he stepped behind her.

She could feel his warm breath huff against her neck as he answered, “I am the king. And for most of my existence before now, I’ve been the Wraith Commander.” There was wry amusement in his voice as he added, “You don’t think I know what goes on within this fortress?”

He slid the sword into the scabbard at her back, the metal hissing like ice down her spine. Even with leather between her and the weapon—she couldfeelthe dark magick rising from it like bile in her throat.

Ven stepped in front of her again, his expression somber as he placed a fingertip beneath her chin. "I never doubted you, Aurelia . . . but the thought of you putting yourself in danger for us—forme. . .” he hesitated. “Can you forgive me?"

A lock of his black hair fell forward, and she reached up to push it back. "There is nothing to forgive," she answered.

His dark eyes traced the lines of her face. “Every night belongs to you. Every day. Every breath,” he murmured.

She pulled him down to her, her lips finding his—claiming, possessive, desperate kisses swallowing her own as shadows pooled at their feet, twining around her ankles, her thighs. Soft and gentle as they caressed the exposed skin at her neck, wrapping her in pine and citrus.

“Whatever happens,” he began, his words ragged at the edges, “I thank the Goddess that I found you—that I had you—if only for a moment."

“I will not light your pyre or sing a lament for you,” she choked out as they became mist and smoke. “Not tonight.”

Chapter 61

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