Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
I don’t know when it happened, only that it has. Somewhere between that first glimpse of her in the dungeon and this moment, I have fallen so completely for her that the idea of letting my curvy little princess go is unthinkable. Intolerable.
And yet…I know she feels bound to the world she came from. To her family. Her kingdom.
To duty.
I press a kiss to the top of her head. Her hair smells like apples and the wild roses that grow near the springs back home in my land. Our home, if I had my way.
She stirs slightly in my arms, but doesn't say anything. The ritual exhausted her—drained her—and I’ll be damned if I let anything disturb her now. She deserves rest…peace.
And she deserves more than that—she deserves a happy life. Something better than the gray, joyless cage her Court has built around her. She may not see it yet, not fully—but she will. That place will smother her if she lets it. They’ll clip her wings before they ever let her soar.
She was never meant for a life of whispers and rules—of narrow expectations wrapped in brocade and duty. She’s fire and instinct and hidden strength. Hell—she’s literally full of magic! She should be dancing barefoot beneath the moon and flying on my Drake’s back—not shackled to a dull gray existence pretending to be a proper princess.
She belongs with us, the Drake growls, low and sure.
Yes. She belongs with us. With me.
In my homeland, she’d be free to laugh without fear of judgment. To wear what she pleased—to rule her own life, not serve as a pawn in someone else’s game.
I stroke her back gently. Her heartbeat is steady now—slow and calm—a rhythm I could listen to forever.
The Door of Uncertainty showed me a future I refuse to accept. A future where Irena dies—alone and unloved. Where I let her slip through my fingers and watch her fade away.
Or worse—where I see her die.
Never.
I clench my jaw and hold her tighter.
That vision the Door showed me was a lie. Or a warning. Either way, I’ll be damned if I let it come to pass. I will not lose her. I will not let her go back to that brittle, bloodless world without a fight.
She is my mate and once the love of a Drake is given, it is forever.
I will fight for her. Shield her. Worship her.
Even if she doesn’t know it yet—she’s already mine.
And I’ll tear the world apart before I let it take her from me.
70
IRENA
After we finally separate and clean up, Valen helps me into one of the silky robes the Sorceress provided. It’s crimson and loose-fitting—the fabric soft as flower petals against my skin and my legs are still a little wobbly.
Valen presses a kiss to my forehead before helping me to the curved door of the chamber. I’m still flushed but the tension in my chest is lighter than it’s been in days. I feel so good—so close to him. I wish we could spend more time cuddling, but I know that now that we’ve collected the magical essence, we have to brew the Healing Draught.
The Sorceress is waiting for us on the other side, a gleam in her sharp green eyes as she takes one look at Valen and me.
“Well now,” she says, arching a brow. “You two have been very… productive.” She gestures upward and I follow her gaze.
The glowing orb of glass—the Essence Globe—is no longer softly simmering. It’s blazing with light and energy, a swirling storm of gold, rose, and amber, shot through with flickers of emerald and pale violet.
The Sorceress snaps her fingers and the orb detaches from its bracket with a musical chime. It floats gently into her hands and she cradles it with reverence, like it’s a newborn star.
“The two of you come with me, my dear,” she says to me. “The Healing Draught won’t brew itself.”
I glance back at Valen. He nods, giving my hand a squeeze.
“Let’s go.”
The Sorceress leads us into a high-ceilinged chamber that smells of herbs, resin, and something rich and metallic—magic, I realize.
Tables line the walls, each crowded with strange, arcane tools—bronze globes… glittering glass spirals…tiny cages of silver lattice with fluttering flame wisps trapped inside. There are jars of dried herbs, flower petals, and glimmering crystal powders that shimmer with inner light.
But it’s the center table that draws my eye.
It’s made of black wood carved with ancient runes. Directly in the middle sits a round, golden cauldron, polished so bright I can see my reflection in its surface. Tubes of thin, transparent glass curve out from it like the arms of a jellyfish, feeding into measuring vials and glowing infusion dishes. It looks like something between an alchemy lab and a sacred shrine.
“Now, we set the Essence Globe here,” the Sorceress says, motioning to a groove shaped to hold it. She leans over and places the globe in its cradle.