Page 55 of Ashes & Aether

I trigger the door controls. The heavy wood slides shut, sealing her safely inside.

I stand in the empty hallway, the sound of the waterfall washing over me. I run a hand through my hair, exhaling a ragged, uneven breath. She is in my home. She is mere steps away from my own chambers.

SUBJECT: ELMSLEIGH, MARGARET.

STATUS: UNDER MY ROOF.

My lips curve into a sharp, hungry grin. Tomorrow will be a spectacular day.

18

MAGGIE

Two hundred crystal stairs rise toward the palace entrance, flanked by thousands of Avaren citizens. I stand near the bottom landing, my hands clasped tightly behind my back, keeping my posture locked. Orien stands beside me. The heat radiating from his large frame bleeds through the few inches of empty air separating us.

The crowd erupts into a deafening cheer.

Kairen, Crown Prince and fleet commander, sweeps his human bride into his arms. He doesn’t merely lift Tara Novak; he devours her mouth in a kiss that leaves absolutely no room for misinterpretation. And then he begins to climb.

Two hundred steps. He carries her the entire way, his mouth locked on hers, blind to the cheering masses. The pale pink fabric of Tara’s dress spills over his dark sleeve.

I watch them, my analytical mind cataloging the display. A warlord who leads through fear would never expose himself like this. Kairen broadcasts absolute, devastating vulnerability to an entire planet, transforming tenderness into the ultimate flex of power. He isn’t afraid of looking weak because his devotion is the source of his strength.

They reach the top landing, and Caden steps into place beside his cousin, acting as Kairen’s second. On Tara’s right, the small white robot she calls Kiko clicks its metal claws against the stone.

My mind wanders briefly to the damp, gray corridors of Hampton Court. Trevor. My battered pre-invasion bomb-disposal drone with its newly silenced axle. I realize my attachment to the drone is illogical. I can’t even debate tactics with it. Perhaps I should allow Orien to upgrade him.

Queen Raelith waits at the summit. Her deep green galaxy eyes crinkle at the corners. The monarch’s voice booms through the palace acoustics, carrying across the communication arrays that link their empire. I wonder if it is also being broadcast in a Croatian fishing village where my parents watch the sky for my return.

“I’m glad you two joined us,” Raelith states, her dry wit slicing through the regal atmosphere.

I can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes my throat.

“Please hold hands,” the Queen continues, sensing her son’s utter lack of patience.

They exchange vows. Kairen speaks first, his voice rough with emotion, promising to meet her every need. Tara smiles through her tears. She clears her throat, her voice steadying as it projects across the plaza.

“Kairen. The moment I saw you, I was drawn to you like a magnet. It felt as if you were a massive object entering my system, changing my orbit with your gravity. Yet you weren’t derailing me. You were stabilizing me.”

Her words make my heart stutter and my breath catch.

“You complete every circuit I thought was broken,” Tara vows, her tone ringing with absolute conviction. “Every design I thought was flawed. With you, my world has power, light, and direction. I vow to be your grounding wire when storms rage, your spark when shadows fall, and to never stop building the life we’ve started together.”

You weren’t derailing me. You were stabilizing me.

I stare at the small human woman making promises to an alien prince. I have spent years terrified of surrendering the wheel. I view the Avaren match system as a biological prison, a cage constructed from blood tests and genetic mandates. I thought letting an Avaren in meant losing myself.

But Tara doesn’t look trapped. She looks anchored. The machine might locate the match, but the vows are a choice. Destiny isn’t a lack of options; it’s a foundation designed to withstand the collapse of the world.

I turn my head.

Orien watches the ceremony. The ambient light of the palace catches the sharp angles of his face. He stands perfectly still, an apex predator forced into polite stillness, guarding a woman who does nothing but throw ice at him.

The wall inside me crumbles.

I don’t want to be an island anymore. I want this male. I want the arrogant smirk, the infuriating intelligence, the blinding heat he weaponizes to fluster me. I want all of it.

The ceremony concludes, and the plaza dissolves into a chaotic, joyous celebration. Music fills the air, blending with the laughter of a species celebrating its survival. Nobility and soldiers crowd the stairs.