She pulled her hand back slowly.
The mate string shimmered between them for a moment longer, wrapped around their wrists.
Then it loosened.
Faded.
Vanished.
Magnus felt everything.
She saw it in the way his fingers remained slightly curled, as if her hand were still there.
In the small, controlled breath he took.
In the faint tightening around his eyes.
“I’m going to go,” Erin said.
“I believe I have spent enough time with you for my father not to throw a fit.”
*****
Erin went to the barracks the next day with her maid, Carys, and a guard trailing behind her.
Apparently, she could not be trusted to breathe outside the palace gates without royal supervision.
It irritated her to no end.
Lyra, on the other hand, could go wherever she wanted.
Erin stepped out of the black royal truck, smoothing her coat as Carys climbed down after her.
“I hate this place,” Carys muttered.
Erin ignored that.
At the truck bed, her guard began unloading the supplies she had brought: medical kits, training gear, canned food, fresh blankets.
It was her usual excuse.
The princess being charitable.
Very noble.
Very convincing.
Very useful for sneaking off to see Garrick.
Once she saw that her guard was distracted with his buddies unloading the truck, she slipped away once more to find Garrick who was in his small room.
Garrick knew the drill by now.
Whenever Erin arrived at the barracks with supplies, he would be in his room, waiting.
The door opened softly.
Garrick turned.
His eyes lit up the moment he saw her.
“Erin…” he smiled.
And damn him, just like that, all the fury she had carried from the palace melted at the edges.
She had come prepared to fight.
Truly, she had.
Then he smiled at her.
The bastard.
“Hey, babe,” she said, walking into his arms.
He pulled her close immediately.
His face buried against her hair.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured.
“I dropped such a huge bomb on you and bailed. I should have found time to talk to you about it.”
“Yes,” she said into his chest.
“You should have. You are lucky I love you.” She pulled back to glare at him, but the glare was useless because her mouth had started betraying her with a smile.
Garrick gave a helpless little laugh.
“It’s just… you are very distracting when I see you. Everything I want to say just falls away.”
She blushed.
“Oh, shut up.”
He brushed his thumb over her cheek.
“Garrick,” she said softly, “you do not have to do this. If we get married, we will be comfortable.”
“Erin, I cannot live off of you. You know people will talk.”
“Why should we care what people say?” Erin argued, her voice rising despite her attempt to keep it soft.
“We love each other. That should be all that matters.”
For Erin, it was simple.
Love should have been simple.
They had survived three years of stolen meetings.
Surely, after all that, the kingdom could choke on its opinions.
“I love you,” he said, taking her hand.
“I love you, Erin. I really do.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles.
“But my love, I do not want to be the man whose entire life is his wife. I want to provide for you,” he continued.
“I want to stand beside you and know I earned my place there. I want to fight hard enough to belong in your world.”
“You already belong with me.”
“With you, yes.” His eyes softened.
“But not beside you.
Not yet.
I want to be a man you will be proud of…”A man the people will be proud to have by your side.”
Erin blinked quickly, refusing to cry.
“By sacrificing your blood again and again?” she asked.
“Yes,” Garrick said without hesitation.
“If that is what it takes.”
“How long do I have to wait now, Garrick? How long before you are completely mine?”
“After this tour,” he said, “whether my situation changes or not, I will ask the king for your hand.”
Erin searched his face.
“Do you promise?”
“I promise with all of my heart.” He bent to kiss her, pulling her close, to fuck her one more time, one more time before he would be gone.
*****
Kyllian was grateful for the vampires’ help in the war.
Truly, he was.
There had been a time when the thought of fighting beside vampires would have made his wolf bare its teeth and pace beneath his skin.
Times had changed.
Enemies had become allies.
Magnus sat silent in his wheelchair, watching everything.
Kyllian rubbed a hand over his face.
“Evander,” he said, trying for patience, “tell me you are joking. You do not really plan on fighting with us, do you? I will not be there to protect you. I cannot leave the capital, Evan.”
“It is quite alright, Uncle Kyllian,” Evander said.
“This war has gone on for too long. A few vampires will give you the additional edge you need to end it once and for all.”
“A few vampires, yes,” Kyllian snapped.
“Not you.”
“I am their king.”
“Exactly. Which means you should have enough sense to stay alive.”
Evander smiled faintly.
“How touching. You do care.”
Kyllian exhaled.
“Evander, your father will murder me.”
“I don’t think father cares much about anything anymore,” King Evander said.
Damien Dragos had once been a force that bent rooms around him.
Now, according to every whisper that reached Kyllian’s ears, he was a shadow in Silver City.
“How about Blood City?”
“Magnus is quite capable of handling things while I am away, Your Highness,” Evander said.
He moved behind his older brother’s wheelchair and placed both hands on Magnus’ shoulders.
Magnus did not react much, but Kyllian noticed the small shift in his expression.
The faint tightening of his mouth.
He was Damien’s firstborn.
Luna’s son.
The child everyone had once expected to inherit the terrifying and magnificent throne of Blood City.
Instead, fate had given him a brilliant mind and a damaged body.
Kyllian sighed.