“Tell me.”

“Before you were my enemy, you were my best friend.”

Just as it had centuries ago, her heart ached with yearning.

“You still are,” he told her. “And that is why I want you to come with me.”

He was nothing like Felix—or most other males she’d met.

Thronos was a good man. He was her man.

Hadn’t she wished for the opportunity to give him encouragement? She replayed the yawning loss she’d felt when she’d thought he would succumb. Now, she needed to say something, anything, but her thoughts were tangled.

He must have sensed she was on the ropes. He inched closer to her. “When we were children, we made big plans in that meadow, expecting every happiness to follow. I want to look back one day and say that our plans went awry for only the first five hundred years, but not for the following millennia. Lanthe, if you come with me, I’ll want to wed you. This very day.”

Marry him today? The word cleave had another meaning. To bind.

In a flash, she understood: on this night, she would either separate from Thronos or bind her life to his.

If she went with him, she would be all-in, committed to him, to them. She would do her damnedest to make a future with Thronos.

But could she abide Skye Hall? Could she bring her family around? And survive his?

He released her and moved to the edge of the portal, the threshold of something more, and awaited her.

She swallowed. All-in?

With his eyes gone molten silver, Thronos Talos—a fierce, sensual demon—offered his hand, inviting Lanthe to her idea of hell, to become his bride.

Like a fool in love . . .

She took it.

FORTY-FIVE

It was night in the Skye.

With Thronos leading the way through the portal, he and Lanthe stepped onto a cobblestone path in the Air Territories. He didn’t release her hand.

She’d asked him to go first—after all, she hadn’t had the best run of luck with portal directions. And she had to admit she still might be conflicted about this on some level.

Though she’d never been so high up, her gaze was drawn even higher. The stars were sparkling brilliantly, arcing above them like a diadem. “Wow.”

“That’s how I feel right now.” He squeezed her hand.

She lowered her face to behold just as wondrous a sight: Thronos smiling down at her with starlight reflecting in his eyes.

Just like that, the apprehension she’d felt at crossing that threshold began to fade.

When she could drag her attention away from him, she observed her surroundings with interest. They were in a shallow, sandy vale, with treeless mounts and hills rising up on all sides. White, sun-bleached buildings covered those heights, connected squares or rectangles of various sizes—like one might see on a cliffside along the Mediterranean.

Bordering the structures were cobblestone streets and walkways, all seeming to be straight and narrow, all leading down to this clearing.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“It’s certainly . . . uniform.” And monochromatic. “How far are we from the edge of the island?” She’d expected her fear of heights would have kicked in by now, but she felt no different than if she were standing on terra firma.

“We’re about in the center.”

“It truly is warm.”

“The climate extends for miles around the Territories.”

“Where is everyone?” Not a soul could be seen.

“I believe it’s the middle of the night. Morning comes very early here.” He pointed toward the largest building in the area, one elevated above all the rest. “That’s Skye Hall.”

“I never knew it was an actual hall.” The seat of Vrekener power.

The grand edifice was the only building with the slightest ornamentation; Corinthian columns fronted it, but like all the others, it apparently had no roof. What might be this island’s only trees grew around it.

“The building was constructed against a ridge. The assembly rooms front the elevation, while the royal residence is above it.”

After all she and Thronos had been through, the prospect of entering that hall and facing Aristo left her queasy. “Can we wait till tomorrow to talk with him?”

“Yes. We must be wed first,” Thronos said decisively.

Shit just got real.

“He might not even be in residence,” Thronos pointed out. “He often travels.”

Busy, busy Aristo. Wonder what he’s up to now . . . “Okay, then, show me your digs.” Even if there was some kind of air mojo up here, she was getting dizzy from the altitude, having gone from miles below sea level to miles above it.

“Don’t know what digs are, Melanthe.”

“Where’s your place?”

“Our place.” She knew the exact moment when he comprehended he was truly going to claim her—and soon. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his piercing gaze sweeping over her body—as if he was deciding what he wanted to do with it first. He didn’t block his thoughts, but she didn’t delve.

In a huskier voice, he said, “We live there.” With his free hand, he pointed out another structure high on a cliffside, at the edge of the village. Though unconnected to the other structures, it wasn’t more than a hundred yards or so from them.

“Hmm.” They started toward it.

“Hmm what?”

“I guess I was expecting a palace or something. Our roofless house is really close to other roofless houses, huh?” How ’bout those wedding night sex acoustics?