Page 70 of A Reign of Malice
Noen stays there, waiting for the rest of us to follow.
We’re not exactly wearing proper clothes for this, allthree queens wearing dresses, but we manage, and when I reach Noen, there’s nothing but darkness over the rock.
“It’s a twenty-foot drop,” Noen explains. “There are a few mattresses stacked on top of each other to soften your fall in case you don’t land on your feet. Who’s first?”
Estee steps forward before anyone can argue. Silent. Focused. She doesn’t hesitate, just jumps. Theo follows a heartbeat later, the two of them swallowed by the shadows.
Isla exhales beside me. “I hate this. I hate that I can’t fix it.”
“They just need time,” Asher murmurs, wrapping his arm around her. “We all do.”
Noen’s eyes flick to them, but Asher gives a small shake of his head, silently asking for space. Noen nods once and backs off.
Together, Isla and Asher take the plunge.
Now it’s my turn.
I glance at Julian, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “See you at the bottom?”
He leans in, brushing his hand lightly against mine. “Right behind you.”
I curl my fingers along the cool stone, resting against a patch of damp, bright green moss. Then, with a steadying breath, I step forward and into the dark.
The fall is quicker than I expect.
My dress flutters violently around me like the wings of a bird in panic, and then…thud. I land squarely on the mattress. My knees hold right until the heel of my shoe gives a little wobble, and I teeter back.
A strong hand grabs my elbow before I can fall.
“I got you,” Clara says with a soft laugh. “I did the same thing the first time.”
“I appreciate it,” I say, finding my balance again.
I glance up in time to see Julian drop down with effortlessgrace. He lands with a muted sound, knees bent, then straightens in one fluid motion. His eyes find mine instantly, and they flash with something warm and primal—relief and desire. As he steps toward me, I realize I haven’t truly had a moment to breathe since he was set free. But now?
I’m taking this one.
Noen joins us, but I hardly see him. My stare is fixed on Julian.
For the first time since he was freed, we’re no longer running, no longer bleeding. The air here is still, quiet. It’s not peace, but it’s the closest we’ve come, and in this fragile sliver of stillness, I feel it: the tether between us thrumming, steady and sure, anchoring me to him.
Thisis what it means to be mated. To feel the echo of your own heartbeat in someone else’s chest.
“Leave us,”I tell Clara through mind-speak.
She doesn’t question it. Without a word, she guides the others away, their footsteps retreating into the shadows, giving us the one thing we haven’t had since this nightmare began: space.
Julian says my name like a vow. “Sloane.”
His voice brushes against my skin, softer than the wind, but it hits me like thunder. My pulse stutters. My breath catches.
And then I move.
I step into him, pressing my hands to his chest, palms sliding up over fabric and muscle and heat. His body responds instantly, like he’s been waiting, no,achingfor my touch. I trace the curve of his shoulders, reveling in the strength hidden beneath his quiet resolve, and thread my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer until I can taste the air he breathes.
He cups my face. “I’ve waited centuries for you.”
Emotion swells in my throat, nearly choking me. “You don’t have to wait any longer.”
