Chapter 22

UNA

Somehow, I was no longer afraid. I didn't tremble at all, even as I stood right outside the giant double doors to the throne room, listening to a rhythmic beat of drums and the lowly chanted name "Goll" like they did outside of my palace at Issos.

No, that was no longer my palace. This was.

Dalya paused at my side as I looked at the black obsidian door, carved with wraith kings of old. Even in stone relief carvings—sitting upon a throne, wielding a curved sword, standing beside a dragon—the images portrayed strength and power like I'd never known.

Beyond this door sat a living, breathing king upon his throne who was going to be my one and only mate. For I knew I would take no other, even after I beget his child and he cast me aside. I'd made a vow beneath Lumera's light and, to me, that was binding for life.

"Go through when you're ready," Dalya whispered. "Or"—she hesitated—"if this isn't what you want, you can choose not to walk through that door. You can go back to your room and change. I can help you."

There was such sincerity in her voice as she told me she'd help me run away. I turned my head to look at her. She held me in her golden eyes. I was shocked she'd offer such a thing, that she'd betray Goll. For surely, he'd see that as a betrayal.

Was it for my sake or her own? Or her kingdom's? What would happen if an Issosian moon fae begat the heir to Northgall?

I wasn't sure of her motives, but I was certain of something else entirely that struck me to the bone as I told her, "This is where I belong."

Her expression tightened with concern. She lowered her gaze as she curtsied, then slipped off down a side corridor. She'd told me she could not enter through the front entrance; only the mizrah entered here on this night. When I stepped through the door, it was my acceptance of the people of Northgall and a promise of devotion to the wraith king. Dalya had told me to be sure before I walked through, for there would be no turning back.

When I'd woken in my bed with Vix's final vision repeating in my head, I was certain of everything. A god had given me his memory, his will, his blessing through that strange vision.

"I am certain," I whispered to myself.

Even as I'd stood naked in my bedchamber, my feet planted wide so that the priestesses could cover my body from neck to feet with shimmering gold paint then use dragon-mane quills to paint black demon sign around my breasts where I would feed the king's child, around my stomach where the babe would swell, down my legs and arms so that I might carry the babe with strength, I did not fear or flinch at what was coming.

The beating of a drum and the chant continued as I readied to push open the door. My long braid brushed my buttocks.

The god's words whispered back to me. It will turn the world right again.

I was somehow a part of that. I could help turn the world right again by walking through this door. We'd been plagued by sickness and war for so many years. But that final vision spoke directly to my soul. That was my purpose. This was my destiny.

I straightened my wings and my spine. I braced my hands on the handles of both doors and pushed them inward, opening both wide. The drums and chanting silenced at once.

At the front of the long oval hall, Gollaya sat upon a giant throne, a dragon carved into the black stone.

Goddess above . He looked magnificent.

He wore nothing but a leather skirt that ended above his knees. Without his armor, he looked more powerful, not less. Most might appear vulnerable in such a bare state. He did not. With the gold jewelry decorating his horns, the gold cuffs on his wrists, the demon runes burned into his chest and prominent forehead, his broad, muscular body could only belong to the most virile of kings.

His ice-blue eyes flared bright, but he kept his clawed hands on the arms of his throne, his fingers curling at the ends as if he were striving to keep himself in place.

The sounding of one drum began to beat, a slow, steady tempo for a march. That's when I finally tore my gaze from Goll to the room. The courtiers—male and female wraith fae, all in their regular garb, not half nude like Goll or fully bare like me—stood in a wide circle several fae deep.

My heart tripped faster. There were easily two hundred present. Maybe more. Gathering my courage, I stepped out to the beat of the drum, walking along the back of the circle as Dalya had instructed. No one made a sound as I kept my chin up, my back straight, my wings high and made the walk of the mizrah, presenting myself to the wraith fae royal court, awaiting their acceptance as their mizrah.

I skimmed over the royal council, not wanting to see the disapproval in their eyes, seeking the Culled in the crowd. My heart burst with relief when I found Keffa, his gaze on my face only, his smile genuine and proud. Soryn beside him still looked grave as always, but he gave me a nod of approval, which sent an unexpected spark of happiness to my soul. I needed their approval. I wanted it. It was a strange discovery.

"Mizrah," said Pullo, the younger one with the shaved sides of his head and the braid down the center of his back. His smile was wide when he said again, "Mizrah."

Then Tierzel at his side joined in, chanting with him as I continued my march around the room to the beat of the single drum. Then two more after that.

My gaze landed on Meck and Ferryn. They, too, kept their eyes above my shoulders. They were male, and I'm sure they looked as well as every person in the room. But when I met their eyes, they were fixed solely on mine.

Meck smiled wide. But Ferryn frowned, a look of concern on his face, likely from the last time I saw him when he'd practically had to carry me to my room. But then he bowed, dipping his horns low in reverence.

Then more joined in. "Mizrah. Mizrah. Mizrah." It was a low chant, slowly gaining strength.

My gaze found Hava closer to the throne near other servants of the palace. I blinked away the emotion as they chanted "Mizrah," the acknowledgment that I was accepted by the people of Silvantis, by Northgall itself. Tears streamed down Hava's heart-shaped face.

I came to the throne but did not turn to face Goll as Dalya had instructed. I must walk the full circuit of the room before presenting myself to him. I passed Dalya on the far side of the throne, her eyes shining with emotion, a sincere smile on her face. She was complex, but I felt it to my bones that she was genuinely happy in this moment. For me or for Goll or for her people, I wasn't sure.

As I rounded the other side, my gaze landed on some of the royal council, most of them chanting. But not all. The gray-haired elder Bozlyn chanted my name, his gaze respectfully on the ground. But the other elder, Kellock, did not. His eyes bore into mine, his jaw clenched, his disapproval blazing clear and bright.

Yet no one paid him any mind. Everyone else chanted my new title over and over again as I continued to close the circle. Their expressions were lit with an array of emotions—happiness, excitement, indifference, even confusion. Some appeared puzzled that a moon fae princess was indeed about to become their king's mizrah. But Kellock was the only one defiantly disapproving of me that I could see.

Ignoring him, I completed the circle back to the entrance of the throne room. The chanting and drumbeat continued as I turned to face Goll, then increased in tempo, growing louder, as I walked down the center of the room. A line of black chalk encircled a large white velvet pillow, demon runes scrawled the perimeter of the circle.

Slowly, I lowered to kneel upon the center of the white cushion, staying upright on my knees, my arms at my sides, my chin held high as I stared at Goll.

The chanting and drums ceased at once. No sound at all, not even a whisper as Goll drank me in, still sitting tall upon his throne. He was the embodiment of power, his magick already humming in the air, encircling me where I knelt before him.

Then he stood and took slow, steady strides toward me. He stopped before me, reaching down and cupping the bottom of my chin. He held my gaze for an eternal moment. Then another, time stretching while he lingered over my face with intense longing. The sliver of golden fire around his serpentine pupil glowed brighter than I'd ever seen, the ice-blue of his eyes an otherworldly blaze. I was hypnotized, caught in the eyes of my king.

Yes, my king. I was more certain than ever now.

When he spoke, his voice rumbled loud and deep for all to hear. "Vix is here within these walls of Vixet Krone. He guards and keeps the realm of his demon kin." Still cupping my chin, he swept his thumb along my jawline, his intense stare burning hungrily. "He gives the king the right to rule. He gives him his beloved, fruitful treasure." His voice softened when he repeated, "My treasure." Then his voice boomed loud again, "I choose Tiarrialuna Elzabethanine Hartstone, daughter of the moon fae of Issos." Then softer again, his words only for me, emotion swelling in his eyes, "I choose you, Una."

My pulse pounded in my throat, filling my entire body with wild sensations of excitement, elation, and dread at the public act to come, I smiled shakily up at him, ready and willing.

He let go of my chin as he took a step back and raised his arms at his sides, palms up, his biceps flexing. " Etheline !"

Feyfire ignited in his palms then leaped to the stone floor and wound around the perimeter of our small circle, enclosing us within. The flames licked higher and higher as the roar of the crowd rose in the domed throne room.

When there was a wall of flame high above the figures barely discernible on the other side, Goll stepped toward me. He gripped me by the upper arms and lifted me to my feet, his expression hard and feral but his eyes shone with urgent concern. He pulled me against his body, and I gripped his bare waist.

"I choose you, Una," he repeated as he lowered his head.

My fingers curled against his skin, unaware somehow that he would kiss me, that he'd want to kiss me. My mind had been filled with the act of copulation in front of everyone, I'd not expected him to want to kiss me.

But when his lips brushed gently against mine, a flare of need burned hot through my veins. He coaxed my mouth apart, his lips warm, enticing a small noise from my throat. When I opened wider, he slanted his mouth to mine, his tongue sweeping inside.

My mind suddenly felt light, my entire being wrapped in this kiss, this luxurious warmth spreading through me. His arms slid around my back and waist, pressing and holding me close, dipping his head low to reach me.

I stroked my tongue into his mouth, sliding against his fangs, eliciting a groan from him. It rumbled in his chest, teasing my bare breasts, my nipples tight and aching. I whimpered when he released my mouth to kiss and nip down my neck.

Then I remembered.

I stiffened, wondering if this is when he'd bite me, afraid of the pain. Instead, his mouth coasted lower as he bent to brush his lips across one breast, smearing the demon sign and sucking at the taut peak. I moaned, the pleasure coiling hot and wet between my legs.

Then he scooped me off my feet and lay me flat on my back on the cushion, bringing me back to awareness of where I was and what was about to happen in the throne room. I looked toward the wall of towering flames, noticing the shapes of the shouting wraith fae, their drums beating loudly again. They weren't even recognizable on the other side, but they were still there in the room. Discomfort stiffened my limbs.

"Una," Goll beckoned.

I turned my attention back to him, a pained expression darkened his eyes. He lowered his mouth—dusted with gold—to mine again, sweeping me away with yet another devouring kiss, his lips firming over mine. He nipped my lower lip with his fangs, stinging with a small prick. He licked the metallic drop from my lip and groaned, yet again, kissing his way down my throat.

This time, I thrust my breast up for him, eagerly wanting that sensation of pleasure again. He licked and circled with his tongue then sucked the tip, which had me gripping his two larger horns to hold him there.

Another rumbling growl vibrated from his chest, which was pressed to my torso. He opened my left thigh, his grip firm but not painful. I couldn't help noting the claws of two fingers of his right hand were filed blunt. I quickly realized why when he slid that hand up my thigh and caressed my quim through the folds.

My head fell back to the cushion as he lingered on one breast and stroked a finger over the tight nub at the apex of my sex. My mouth fell open on a gasp. I'd touched myself for pleasure before. Of course, I had. But no one else ever had. The sensation of having this giant dark fae, the wraith king, hovering over me, sucking my breast and stroking me there sent a thread of hot desire throughout my body.

I squirmed beneath his touch, rocking up for more. He stopped tending to my breast, lifting his head to look at me, his fingers still slowly circling, igniting, stirring a maddening flame inside me.

I'd thought his gaze was feral before, but now, it was downright savage, locked on mine. He slid an arm beneath my shoulder to grip the back of my nape, cradling it actually, the tips of his clawed hand sinking into my braided hair.

"Show me," he whispered. "Show me what little joy I can bring to you, my mizrah."

His words were strange and distant, and yet I felt them singing to my bones as he slid the tips of those two fingers to my entrance and pumped shallow strokes before returning to the sensitive bud, slick and warm, pressing and circling with relentless urgency.

I panted, still gripping his horns, squeezing them as I rocked my pelvis up into his questing fingers. A startled cry erupted as my climax spun higher and higher, so fast that I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

"Show me," he commanded. Begged.

I kept his gaze as he circled and flicked my clit with increasing speed until I was soaring with a hard climax, my body jerking as I dropped my head back. His mouth was on my breast, sucking fiercely, causing more spasms to ripple. He covered my mound with the flat of his palm, sliding those two blunt-tipped fingers inside me just a little.

My sex squeezed and pulsed around the tips as he continued to lave my breast while I came down from my glorious high. As I did, my surroundings came back to me quickly. The high flames still blocked out the courtiers, nothing but blurry shadows on the other side—all still present, voices overlapping, rising above the drums.

Some chanted Goll's name. Some chanted "Mizrah." Yet another voice shouted, "Show us, my liege!" And another something similar with a boisterous laugh.

I stiffened, realizing we were still on public display, even if they couldn't see us. Goll was hiding us with his feyfire.

He slid up my torso, caging me in with his wide chest and body, his palm still cradling the back of my neck, his claws edged into my hair. I let go of his horns and gripped his shoulders.

"Not much longer," he told me before he slid those two fingers inside his mouth and sucked on them. His eyes closed briefly before he stroked them back inside me. Deeper this time, he thrust till a sharp pain made me cry out loudly and dig my nails into his skin.

Another wild clamor of noise and thumping of chests. More hearty laughter.

I realized they were celebrating their king taking my virginity. The thought stirred an altogether different emotion since I'd entered this room—shame.

This was not the way of Issosians. A couple was moon-bound beneath Lumera's guiding light. Vows were spoken, and the couple pledged their bodies in the privacy of their bedchamber.

Here, I was a spectacle, a fae woman to be claimed and owned by the king, to bear his child. A vessel for his heir, not for his heart or his love. The realization made my body go cold, even while my sex throbbed with recent pleasure and the more recent pain.

Goll saw something in my gaze that tightened his expression. He removed his fingers from my body, lifting his own higher to look between us. I felt a small trickle of warmth. He firmly wiped his bloody fingers upon the white cushion and muttered, "Fuck. Enough."

Then he scooped me into his arms and carried me toward the wall of flames. He murmured a command that I felt vibrate against the side of my ribcage pressed to his chest more than I heard him above the clamoring noise of the throne room. The flames snuffed out, filling the area with smoke as he carried me swiftly from the room.

He didn't look back or say a word as he strode through the ghostly corridors, still empty of anyone at all. I kept my face hidden, my mind reeling with worry. That wasn't right. That hadn't gone the way it was supposed to. He hadn't claimed me. Not entirely. What did that mean?

But I didn't have time to think long before I realized I was back in my bedchamber, a low fire crackling in the hearth. Goll thrust the door shut with his foot and carried me to the bed.

"Goll?" I asked, not sure what to say as he laid me on the mattress.

"Shhh." He untied his tunic and tossed it aside then he climbed in on top of me. "It'll be over soon, Una."

"Oh." He was going to finish here. I spread my legs and readied for the pain again. I was well aware there would be pain the first time. Hava had told me enough, having had lovers of her own.

But when I glanced between our bodies, most of him hidden in shadow beneath the coverlet, I could still make out the sizable length of his cock. Knowing his fingers caused pain, I wasn't sure I was ready for this. But I had to be.

"Look at me, Una."

I did, watching his ethereal gaze glow in the dark as he gripped himself and stroked the head of his cock at my entrance, grazing the tight nub that gave me so much pleasure before he pressed inside me. I widened my legs, bracing for the pain as he slid deeper.

The sting returned, not quite as sharp but close enough. I whimpered.

"You can bear it, Una." His voice was gravelly deep. "Just a little longer."

"Goll," was all I could say in response, my sex burning at his large intrusion.

His eyes slid closed as he thrust deeper and deeper until he was seated fully inside me. I panted harshly, curling my fingers into his back, my thighs wide and flattened to the mattress to take him.

"Not long," he growled, his voice tight with strain. "I promise."

Then he started to move, the painful stinging more intense now that he pumped in and out of me. Even so, there was a distant thrum of pleasure building as well. His magick sank into my skin with a tantalizing caress. His eyes opened on me again, unreadable but hot with blue flame.

I could only imagine what he saw in mine, my spirit wholly swallowed by the enormity of this moment, of giving myself to Gollaya Verbane in every way. For it was no longer simply a bodily exchange, but a passing of my soul into his keeping. I could not have allowed him to enter my body without giving him a piece of my spirit in return.

I gave it willingly, gladly. In the intensity of the pain my body felt, there was a bone-deep knowing that he was a part of me for forever now. And I was glad of it.

The magnitude of the moment, the discovery that I wanted him, that I wanted to be his mizrah and his mate, crashed through me like a dizzying maelstrom. A tear slipped from the corner of one eye into my hair.

Goll noticed and flinched, still stroking inside me.

"Fuck," he muttered looking away as he thrust deeper and faster, closing his eyes and frowning.

I clutched him harder to me as I felt the swell of his cock, the pleasure beginning to grow brighter, not overtaking the pain but getting close. On an animalistic groan, he pumped hard and deep and held, his cock pulsing as he emptied his seed.

The sensation was wildly glorious. I closed my eyes, another tear slipping free as I clung to his body pressed to mine, trembling with his climax. When his cock stopped throbbing, his rigid body loosened, both of us panting in the dark of my bedchamber.

I wasn't sure what to say, but I was desperate to hear some words of encouragement from him, that I hadn't failed in some way, for he had seemed disappointed and upset for the majority of the ceremony. And especially by the way he was looking at me now.

I opened my mouth to ask him when he withdrew from my body, his gaze glancing down between our legs. He hurried out of the bed and grabbed the tunic, retying it around his waist with quick, sharp movements.

"I'll send for Hava to tend to you." His voice was cold and unfeeling.

I sat up, pulling the sheet over my breasts, remembering that I was still covered in paint. "Goll, why are you—?"

"You don't have to worry about me forcing my attentions on you again anytime soon. I'll give your body time to heal before I return to your bed. I'll not bother you until your breeding time."

Then as he marched swiftly for the door, my heart sunk with despair.

Yes, my breeding time. Of course, that was his main concern. Even while I'd opened my soul tonight and given him more than my body, all he truly wanted from me was his heir.

When he opened the door, he stopped, but it wasn't to speak to me. There was someone right outside.

"She'll need a hot bath," he told the person.

"Yes, my liege." Hava's quiet voice. "The courtiers are concerned they did not witness the claiming."

A harsh noise then, "Whichever courtier has a fucking problem with the ceremony, they can address it directly to me. There was enough of her blood for evidence. And more on her sheets if the royal council needs more proof."

"Yes, my king," Hava agreed quickly.

"Once they're drunk and fat off the feast, they won't care anyway," he snapped before marching away.

Hava rushed in and came to me. "Mizrah, are you well?"

I curled away from her into the covers. "I need a moment, Hava," I whispered.

"Of course, Mizrah."

She set about doing things quietly. I heard her pulling the tub toward the fire, but I kept still, my eyes closed.

As much as the pain was when he entered my body, it wasn't quite as great as the pain I felt when he left it. I hadn't realized that I'd feel this way afterwards.

For a brief moment, nothing but wild elation and joy filled me at the sensation of giving my body to him. Then the sudden reversal of being engulfed with disappointment and sorrow at his neglect.

It was my own foolishness that had brought me here. His rejection did not mean that this still wasn't the right course. A fervent rightness about tonight still thrummed through me, my magick singing that we were on the right path. I had to sever my hopes for a true mating with Goll and focus on my real destiny here.

A sharp pain stung both my wrists on the underside. I gasped and jolted upright. Hava had left the room, probably to fetch hot water, so I was alone to witness the newly burned markings into my skin. They were a tiny zigzag rune I didn't know, the exact same on both wrists.

I wiped at the gold paint partially hiding them to see them better. I had no idea a moon fae could receive demon runes from the gods.

"It's never happened before," I whispered to myself, staring down at the tiny, jagged markings right over my thin veins.

Yes. I was on the right path. As Mizrah of Northgall, I would set it all right.