Vow of the Shadow King (Bride of the Shadow King Book 2)

I sit with one leg still in the water, holding Faraine.

I am no longer my own. This plunge into the sacred pool was our yunkathu—our true marriage swim. Whatever perils we may face, we shall face them now together. To her will I cleave from this day forth. Her defender and her servant, her lord and her love. Whether our marriage lasts a year, a day, mere hours in this world, I shall go into eternity knowing the other half of my heart belongs to her. One flesh. One heart. One whole.

The moon passes slowly overhead. Somehow, that vast sky holds no terror for me now. Not with her here, safe, where she belongs. In my arms.

“Vor,” she whispers.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m cold.”

I smile, kiss the top of her head, and press her closer. We’re both soaked through, and the wind whips down the mountain and chills right through our skin, straight to our bones. “I’ll take you home then. We’ll find you a gown. Blankets. A bed. You must recover from your ordeal.”

She nuzzles into my neck. One hand clings weakly to the front of my shirt. “It’s nice here though. Just the two of us.”

My lips quirk in a smile. “Which is it to be then? Shall we off for home, or remain here and freeze to death? The choice is yours. I am entirely at your disposal.”

She sighs, a delightfully petulant sound. “I suppose freezing to death would be rather ungrateful to the gods. So soon after they gave me my life back, I mean. Besides, I feel I’ve done enough dying for one day.”

I close my eyes. I cannot bear to think how close I came to losing her. How I did lose her. Worse still, I cannot begin to imagine the pain she endured. She still trembles with the aftershocks. But she’s here.

A shadow passes over the moon. I look up, watch the cloud trailing by overhead, thick and roiling. Like the hand of doom itself. For the first time since emerging from the pool, I remember everything we’ve left behind, everything to which we must soon return. Now that I hold Faraine, now that she is mine, truly mine, the impending fate of my world looms large and dreadful in my mind. Still, I would not change anything. Even if all we are granted are these few, shivering moments, here in the shadow of this great mountain, surrounded by fire lilies.

After a long silence, Faraine tilts her head and looks up at me. Her solemn eyes flash with anxiety. “I didn’t ask before, but . . . the city?”

I smile down at her. “You saved them, Faraine. You saved my people. You saved Mythanar. I don’t know how you did it. I can’t begin to comprehend that strange gift of yours. But somehow you turned the devils back¸ set them on their heels.”

“It wasn’t like that.” She shakes her head then leans it against my shoulder once more, as though too exhausted to hold it upright. “The poor creatures did not want to do as they did. They were driven to it.” She is silent for a moment, before finishing softly, “I merely set them free.”

Of course, she did. Because she is Faraine. My valorous Faraine. Her strength is not that of a warrior; it is far stronger than mere brute force. Hers is the strength of compassion, of understanding and sympathy. A strength I’ve not properly understood or appreciated until now.

“Thousands of lives were spared today because of what you did.” I stroke her golden hair, glory in the texture of those soft, silky strands between my fingers. “Never was there a braver Queen of Mythanar. Not in all the myths or legends throughout the ages.”

She lifts her head, peers up at me from under her lashes. “Queen?” She breathes the word, little more than a whisper.

“Indeed.” I tip my head, press my brow to hers. Our noses touch, our eyes lock. “You are mine, Faraine. My Queen. Sovereign Lady of Mythanar and the Under Realm, from this day forth and forevermore.”

She draws a quavering breath. Then, resting her hand against my cheek, she angles my mouth into her kiss. A sweet, earnest kiss, full of promise, full of longing. Full of lingering pain. Pain to which she chose to return. She was beyond all of this, all the horror, all the fear. All the hurts and shocks to which the natural body is subject. But she came back. For me.

Then and there, with her kiss burning my lips I make a solemn vow: to be worthy of that choice. To be worthy of her love.

To be worthy of her. My angel. My queen.

My wife.