Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
A few feet away, Kendrick’s body lies limply in the grass, and my heart sinks. He didn’t make it.
When I chose to rise, I knew nothing was promised and accepted that, but that does nothing to spare me from the grief of knowing—
Wait.
His chest gently rises and falls. I lean closer to make sure I’m not imagining it, and tears turn my vision blurry. He’s sleeping.
I roll to my knees, crawling across soot and silt, through bits of charred wood and scorched earth, to get to lie by his side. I can’t help myself, so I stroke the side of his face, let his stubble tickle my fingers, let his breath tickle my ear.
When his eyes slowly open, his lips part and he places a gentle hand on either side of my head. “Jasalyn.”
I take him in, those blue eyes, his full mouth, the steady beat of his heart beneath my hand. Every sense is so heightened. It’s like I can see him with all my senses. “Kendrick,” I say in return, then more softly, I try, “Hale.”
“I love my given name on your lips.” He scans my face over and over and shakes his head in wonder. “Is this a dream?”
“If so, I think it’s mine,” I say. “You’re alive.” My voice is full of awe and gratitude, but it doesn’t come close to matching the magnitude of what’s happening inside me.
He lifts shaking hands to cup my jaw, his touch so tender, as if he thinks I might disintegrate if he’s not careful. “You’re alive,” he says.
I smile. “Are you surprised?”
“I refused to believe anything else, but Jasalyn . . .” He squeezes his eyes shut for a beat. “It’s been days.”
I try to imagine what that was like for him. For Brie. Waiting for days and not knowing if I was gone for good. “It felt like many lifetimes.” Maybe someday I’ll tell him all I endured to get back to him, to get back to this life, but not tonight.
“But you made it. You beat him. I knew you would.”
I nod. Yes, someday I’ll tell him that beating Mordeus was the easy part, but for now . . . I look toward the palace. “Abriella?”
He must see the worry on my face. “Your sister is well.”
Relief washes over me, opens my lungs for a long, shaky breath.
“She was injured but recovered quickly. Crissa’s battalion showed up and saved our asses.”
“Your queen,” I murmur. There’s no bitterness in my voice. How could I be bitter toward the girl who saved me once? Toward the girl who saved my sister and my friends?
“Elora’s queen,” he says, then runs a finger across his forehead. “I think the Mother accepted that I won’t be taking any throne.”
“It’s not glamoured away?”
He shakes his head. “This is me.”
“And that’s what you want?”
He kisses me hard, as if to ask how I could doubt him. When his kiss turns softer and longer, I moan against his lips. “I don’t want any life without you by my side,” he says when he finally pulls away. “And anyway, I don’t need a throne to change Elora.”
“No, you don’t.” He’s so amazing and I wonder at how lucky my home realm was that they had him fighting for their future. “How long has it been? Since . . .” I glance toward the ashes.
“Three days. The soldiers who were clearing the lawn tried to shovel out the ash and your sister lost it on them.” He bows his head but can’t hide his smile. “I’m pretty sure she would’ve made them leave it here for a century even if there’d been no sign of you. And she was right. We were right. Because here you are.”
“And you slept out here? By a pile of ash? For days?”
“There was nowhere else I wanted to be.” He shrugs, then flicks his gaze down my body. “And seeing you naked in the moonlight isn’t doing anything to make me regret that decision.”
I stifle my smile. “I’m covered in ash.”
He arches a brow and gives a self-satisfied shrug. “It looks good on you.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I mutter, but my insides are dancing. I’d missed his words. His eyes. His laugh. Three days for him, for my sister, for my friends. Lifetimes for me.
“Are you hurt?” he asks.
“Not anymore.”
“Good.” He puts one hand behind my head and one behind my back and rolls us so he’s on top of me and there’s nothing but soft grass at my back. His thigh settles between my legs, his weight on his elbows. He kisses me tenderly, drinking me in in sips before he angles his mouth over mine to demand more. Every inch of my skin is more sensitive than I remember and I shiver beneath him.
He pulls back. “You’re cold. Do you need some clothes?”