Page 424 of Kingdoms of Night

Claiming his power had broken the dark magic.

He whipped his branches and roots around, then snared the Brunes and those who served them, lifting them all into the air. The crossbow dropped to the sand, a sword falling beside it.

Isa ran to Nico and held him tightly. She looked up at Viridi. “There is my monster mate. I knew you could do it.”

Viridi gripped Isa’s enemies tightly. “Do you wish for me to end them?”

Her wings shuffled, the injured one slower and making her wince. “No. Put them on their new ship and send them on their way. But first, I will mark them as slavers so no one will fall for their tricks again.”

He lowered them to the sand, holding them firmly. Keeping Nico beside her, she removed one of her daggers. Fire glowed in her throat and she blew a small stream onto the end of the blade. Then on each of their foreheads, she drew an S in the common tongue’s alphabet, indicating they were slavers. It was a mark Viridi had seen on one of the pirates who’d attacked during his childhood, a symbol known through the kingdoms, no doubt.

“Will you see that they go to their ship immediately?” she asked Viridi, fire still sparking from her lips.

He glared at the three people who had dared to treat his mate and her youngling poorly. “As you wish, Lady of the Sun.”

“Thank you, Lord of the Stars.” Her smile was life.

EPILOGUE

Isa

One Moon Later

Wings tucked, Queen Isa sat on her own wooden throne, her oak leaf gown draping across the feasting area’s exposed roots and rich mosses. Dryad fires glowed, their spring-green light reflecting off Nico’s smile as he ran from table to table, trying every new recipe that Felix and Werian had cooked up. Nico waved at her.

Isa adjusted her crown of branches and winked before nodding to yet another of the southern tribesmen, another guest here to promise fealty to her and to her king, Viridi.

The wedding had been a simple affair, hands bound with ivy and oak leaves, words spoken in the dryad elf tongue and in an older language still. She’d been so excited that the whole event was a blur. She’d need time to remember every second and to appreciate it all.

Now, John and Eamon were having a drinking contest, and if their unsteady stances were any clue, Dew was defeating them handily.

The visiting tribesmen and women walked away, smiling and murmuring—no doubt gossiping a bit about Isa, her scaled cheeks, taloned fingers, and of course … the wings. She didn’t mind it. At least she wasn’t dull, and no one could say her life hadn’t turned out truly adventurous. Besides, if anyone else tried to harm Nico, she had dragonfire, as well as an incredibly powerful dryad elf king, to back her up.

Viridi walked up, his mossy black cloak dragging the ground. “Enjoying yourself, my lovely mate?” He swept low for a kiss, his thorned fingers carefully cupping her chin.

Heat spread across her chest and stomach. He broke away before she’d had her fill.

“I am,” she answered. “When do your wedding rituals end?”

Music floated through the air as the dryad elves, Werian, Rhianne, and the crew danced and laughed.

Lifting Isa’s hand, Viridi eyed her with a dark, sultry gaze. “Are you asking when this feast will end and we will consummate our bond?” His branched crown stood almost a foot over his tangled black hair. He was truly a king from the legends, frightening and beautiful.

And all hers.

“I am.” She blushed, and didn’t care if everyone saw it.

Felix and Rom, two of Viridi’s closest friends, were growing some sort of hammock made entirely of leaves for Nico, who leapt inside before it was complete and had to be caught by Dew. Isa heard this was Dew’s first appearance at a feasting party. She didn’t think it would be the hermit’s last.

“I think it’s past time we take our leave, Lady of the Sun,” Viridi said quietly to Isa.

And so they did.

Within the oaken walls of his castle, Viridi led Isa to his bedchamber. Her stomach lifted pleasantly in anticipation and her body tingled from head to toe. They walked through the ivy hanging over the room’s archway and he waved his thorned fingers. The ivy thickened and the oak of the framing came together to form a woven door of sorts.

The idea that he wanted privacy sent flames through her blood.

His bed was round, woven of living oaks and pines that stood around the cushions and leafy blankets like sentries. Dusky green needles and smooth oak leaves filtered the soft, emerald light from the five dryad sconces set into the walls.

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