Page 96 of The Maleficent Faerie
My wife reaches for my hands, and we lace our fingers together as she rides me, faster, harder, her golden hair spilling forward, brushing against my scarred chest, over my heart.
“By the goddess, Malec, you feel so good—shit—ah, ah, ah—” Aura shrills, clutching me tighter—and then she gives a breathless shriek, while her pussy convulses around me. I come immediately, helpless to the divine sensation of those blissful spasms, prey to the sight of my gorgeous Queen gasping, shuddering, wild with pleasure. My body arches, and I let loose a throaty roar as the climax explodes through me, continuing in waves so exquisitely violent I can barely see.
When the pulses of bliss ease into a soft afterglow, we both go limp, and Aura falls forward on top of me, panting.
“I’ve never had one so long,” she whispers. “Fuck.”
“We’re married,” I manage breathlessly, stroking her back. “Fae partners can give their spouses more powerful pleasure than before the bonding.”
“What?” She stares. “They never told us that in Caennith.”
“Well, they wouldn’t, would they? The Priesthood didn’t want humans and Fae bonding for life.”
“Bastards.”
I laugh. “Indeed.”
We lie still for a moment in the quiet, simply breathing and existing together. It’s a respite we deserve after all we’ve endured.
I am loved.Me. Loved exactly as I am, with all my mistakes and my darkness. I am forgiven, desired, and cherished by the person who once viewed me as her greatest enemy. When I sink into gloom again, she will be there, loving me through it. And when I want to soar for joy, I can carry her with me.
She and I may have saved the realm together, but she alone has rescued my soul.
Buoyed by these thoughts I rise, still holding Aura close to my heart, and I ring the bell for a servant. “I’ll order our dinner, my love,” I tell her. “Then you can dress, and we’ll go to worship.”
33
I sit with Malec on lush green grass, under a star-flecked sky. The faraway coils of the Void still pass across the suns in their regular rhythm, causing nightfall, but another shape crosses our skies too—the winged dragon Malec and I created together. As long as it roams the borders of Midunnel, we do not need to fear the writhing dark.
With the curse past and the threat of doom lifted, my heart is lighter than it has ever been in my life. My parents and my false mothers are gone, dealing with the citizens of their own kingdom. Malec and I have decided we won’t make any move to rule Caennith at present, unless its people come to us and plead for governance. As my parents age and decline, the rulership of Caennith will pass to me anyway, as the true heir. Right now, we are waiting. Which means I don’t have to encounter my family again until I’m ready. And that, too, is an immense comfort.
Malec’s relief shows in the lightness of his laugh, the easy set of his shoulders, and the sparkle of his eyes. It rings through the merry, taunting words he exchanged with his Edge-Knights this evening as we filed into the grassy, starlit arena, Kartiya’s place of worship.
The Void has been driven far away, and he can no longer access its magic. But he assured me that his natural power is enough. It’s a power I possess now, too, even though I’m human. We share his magic, and the light of Eonnula, and the abilities of the Conduit. And within us both lies the latent capacity to channel and shape the Void, if we should ever need to do so.
A rustle of silk on grass heralds Dawn’s arrival. She settles in on my left side, giving me a quick smile. Having her here all the time is a blessing from Eonnula. It makes me feel more settled inside, knowing that one relationship from my old life is real and lasting.
Vandel takes the spot beside Dawn. I spot the two of them exchanging a glance, and when Dawn looks my way again I raise my eyebrows, smirking. She nudges me, a bashful smile on her face.
Beyond Dawn and Vandel are Kyan and Andras, sitting close together, and Ember beyond them. I spot Fitzell with a broad-shouldered man and three children. Near her family is the High Priestess of Hellevan, not a leader this time, but a worshiper as well.
The High Priestess’s eyes meet mine, and when I give her a grateful nod, she smiles.
The Kartiyan Priest, a slender, white-haired man with dark brown skin and kind eyes, presides over the gathering from his seat on a flat circle of pale paving stones. Malec and I, along with those most precious to us, have gathered near him. Tiers of grassy ledges radiate from the round lawn where we sit, climbing upward and outward, each circle wider than the last. The outdoor chapel is like a great ridged bowl set into the ground, designed to provide seating for hundreds.
There is no blaze of sun, no manic roar of frenzied cheers, no strident voice urging the crowd along to greater heights of hectic desire.
The grass glimmers in the starlight, and the rows of worshipers speak quietly to each other, their murmurs interspersed by the occasional laugh or the cry of an infant. Peace governs the night, breathes in the light wind, and whispers to the space inside me, the new pathway reserved for magic.
The Priest is singing. I’m not sure when he began the melody, but it wreathes through the worshipers, quieting the conversation, soothing the children. More voices take up the song, some in words and some without, a harmony building naturally into something greater.
Just as in Hellevan Chapel, some people mourn aloud. There have been many lives lost to the war, after all. But even in the mourning there is hope, and relief. I hear it in the gliding melody, sense it in the reverberation of low voices.
I don’t sing. But I hum along to the music of the man beside me.
Malec hears me and reaches over to clasp my hand, his dark eyes alight with love and joy.
We don’t need to speak elaborate words to each other. We did that on our wedding day, and those vows still echo in my mind.
