In “heaven,” surprises had been many. Thronos’s brother had not acted in expected ways.

Life had proved utterly confusing.

Perhaps Vrekeners should judge less and enjoy more, taking pleasure where they could find it—especially since dire threats now surrounded them. Eternal life could be grindingly long, or heartbreakingly short.

Once the Territories were “out of the crosshairs,” he would discuss social reforms with his co-ruler. . . .

The debate between Cadmus and Jasen was winding down, the day coming to a close, which meant he could soon return to her. Every second he wasn’t with Melanthe, he wished he were.

For the public, he maintained what she called his poker face. At home with her, he could relax. Thanks to her generous infusion of sorcery, he remained pain-free, even days later. Still, she wanted to do a maintenance massage tonight, just in case.

Lucky, lucky me.

How could he have handled this time without her? She made him laugh. She forced him to shuck off some worries and most regrets. He was insatiable for her. To his remarkable fortune, she was just as much so for him.

He’d started taking more control, which she’d seemed all too happy to relinquish. Two nights ago, he’d positioned her on all fours, mounting her from behind, using his pain-free wings to propel his thrusts. When he’d felt her coming around his length, he’d reached forward to cover her mouth, then followed her, biting down on his forearm.

Late last night, he’d been gripped by an erotic dream about her, despite their many couplings. Just as he’d once hoped, he’d awakened with his shaft buried deep inside his wife, his hips pounding between her thighs.

When he’d realized what he was doing, he eased his movements, dumbfounded.

Until he’d felt her nails dig into the muscles of his ass. “Don’t stop, Thronos. So close! I’ll be quiet. . . .”

Over these days, he’d done things that he could tell had surprised her. She’d cry, “Oh!” then follow it with a breathy, “Ohhh.” To tell him she liked it.

Just as she’d promised in Inferno, she always let him know what she needed.

When he thought about how eagerly his lusty mate took his seed with her body, her hands—and yes, her mouth—he couldn’t prevent the grin that spread over his face.

Until he realized that all attention was on him.

“What do you think, my liege?” Jasen asked.

About? Thronos coughed into his fist. “I think we’ll pick this up tomorrow. I know most of you have families awaiting you.”

I have a family. He and Melanthe were an army of two.

He could fly, without pain, to meet his wife in their home. Gods, how things had changed in the weeks since he’d taken her. He smiled more often. So did she, casting him that mischievous grin.

As a girl, Melanthe had snared his heart with it.

As a woman, she owned his heart—invincible no longer.

I have her had become I love her.

Thronos would tell her tonight. He couldn’t be certain how she’d react, but he would never again keep something so important in his pocket.

FIFTY-THREE

Having completed her and Thronos’s history, Lanthe was tweaking her opening to Sabine. The letter would go out in one hour—and would prove even more important than she’d thought.

Sabine and Rydstrom still thought she was a prisoner.

Lanthe had begun . . .

My dearest sister,

How I do adore Skye Hall! I now enjoy cooking and cleaning, tasteful jokes, and demure clothing. Why, I hardly miss my sorcery or gold at all!

JK JK! I wouldn’t know if I like any of that shit, because I’ve never tried it. My lust for gold is as strong as ever, my sorcery even stronger.

Your little sis is quite a boss.

And she’s totally in love with a Vrekener.

In Inferno, Thronos had asked her if she’d ever been in love. She’d answered, “I’ve never known romantic love.” True. But as a girl, Lanthe had loved Thronos—fiercely.

Deep down, maybe she’d never stopped. Maybe it’d always been there, waiting to bloom into a different kind of love. The fragile sprout of affection that she’d copped to in faux Feveris had grown into . . . a moonraker.

And her feelings for him were so strong, they’d even started coloring how she viewed Vrekeners.

Lanthe could still call them lame—but if anyone else did, she’d shut that down.

Sabine, when you read the rest of this letter, please keep an open mind. I’m not brainwashed, and I never will be. Just as you’re bringing change to Rothkalina, I plan to here. Once all the dust settles, you can give me queenly pointers!

When Lanthe felt a vibration of power, she frowned, laying the quill down. She sensed sorcery—not hers.

She leapt to her feet. Something was approaching, a threat to the people here. She raced for the assembly hall.

Where was everyone? Was it dinnertime already?

Lanthe hastened toward the vibration, out the front doorway of the Hall. A portal was opening, right before her eyes.

On the freaking steps of Skye Hall.

Her jaw dropped when Sabine emerged. “Ai-bee?” Her sister was in full war regalia, with a broad gold headdress atop her flame-red tresses. A metal breastplate served as her top, and a jade mask adorned her face.

Sabine was a jolt of color in this monochrome realm.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m rescuing you,” Sabine said blithely as she traipsed onto Vrekener land. “Look at your necklace—is that red gold? To die for! It almost makes up for that dress.”