Page 111 of A Reign of Malice
“I swear you werejustwith her,” Asher says to him, exasperated. “You two are ridiculous.”
“Really? Because according to your mate, you’re just as bad,” Clara fires back, smirking as Noen not-so-casually makes his way toward her. “Whimperingjust because she stayed in the bath too long.”
“Yeah. So what,” Asher says without shame, wrapping his arms around his mate’s shoulders from behind.
Theo lifts a bottle of wine from the corner tray. “I have more wine, and I brought the baby. Can I stay now?”
Landon, somehow wide awake when he shouldn’t be and held against Theo’s chest in one arm, gurgles as if in agreement.
Estee sighs but can’t stop smiling. “He gets away with everything.”
“Like his father,” I say.
Julian crosses the room and offers me a hand. I take it without hesitation, rising as the night begins to wind down.
As we all move together—mates and friends, kings and queens, family in every way that matters—it strikes me how far we’ve come.
From fire and ruin to this unity.
To peace and love.
To everything we were always meant to be.
And the best part?
We’re only just getting started.
EPILOGUE: PART TWO
JULIAN
The stars are high, the castle is quiet, and laughter still lingers in the halls as if it’s always been there.
I carry Sloane in my arms. Not because she needs me to, but because I need it. I needher.
Her fingers toy with the collar of my shirt, her head resting against my shoulder. She’s warm and soft and buzzing with joy from not only the evening we’ve just shared with our friends but the entire day.
Even still, underneath that elation, I feel the hum of something deeper that matches my own.
Desire and love and the bond we forged through fire and ash.
We’ve had a long day. Hell, we’ve had a long year. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for bed.
By the time I reach our room, her lashes are heavy, but she’s still alert, watching me through the haze of candlelight as I set her down gently at the edge of the bed. Her fingers slip down my arm, holding on until the very last second like she can’t quite bear to let go.
I know the feeling.
“You didn’t have to carry me,” she murmurs, breathless. “I could’ve walked.”
“I know,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss her temple. “But I like carrying what’s mine.”
Her lips curl into that wicked smile that makes my pulse thrum. “Possessive much?”
“Only for you.”
She laughs softly, and I take my time easing her sweater from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. My fingers move with reverence as I unlace the back of her dress, pulling at the ties one by one until the fabric slips free.
She lets it drop around her waist, never breaking eye contact.
