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The Veiled Valley
Last Updated:
2024-03-22 22:52:28
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*Ella*Ryatt keeps a firm grip on my wrist as he leads me through his maze of a castle. Dressed in a form fitting black shirt and black pants and free of his leather armor, I can see every solid line of his body from his ripped chest to his muscular thighs. He moves like a predator honing in on its prey when we reach his bedroom–our bedroom–and shuts the door firmly behind him. The sun is beginning to set. The curtains whisper in the cool mountain breeze as golden light floods the room through the open doors leading to the balcony. A dinner service has been laid out on a round table near one of the ceiling-height windows–steak, vegetables, salad, and bread–as well as a few plates of fruit and dessert. Ryatt says nothing as I walk to the center of the room and look around, still in awe that this is where I live now, where I call home. It’s grander than anything I’ve ever seen in my life. “You need to eat something,” he says from the walk-in closet. I hear clothes hitting the floor,
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*Ryatt*I don’t normally stay in the dining hall this long after breakfast. It’s nearly 9:00, and the sky outside hasn’t even begun to lighten. Rain bursts over the balcony in sheets of silver as I pour myself a third cup of coffee and rest my legs on the opposite chair, crossing my ankles. The obsidian walls in the cavernous room glimmer in the light radiating from the hearth. It’s quiet, peaceful. The two-story high wooden doors burst open, slamming into the walls on either side. The impact echoes through the room, followed by brisk footsteps. “What in the actual fuck, Ryatt?!” Ella comes to a stop a few feet away from the table with a sneer. Her face is bright red and peppered with soft bruises and welts. Her hair is tightly braided but loose strands fall around her face, and her eyes? Goddess, there she is. Finally, that girl I fell in love with at the ball has returned to me. “Good morning,” I smile as I casually bring my coffee mug to my lips. Ella’s eyes blaze like sapphi
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*Ryatt*“She tells me how much she hates you everyday during training,” Westfalls says as we walk along one of the bridges at night, ten days after I tore Ella’s heart in half in the dining hall. I’ve just arrived in Veiled Valley after a week-long journey to the Roguelands to check on my commanders and generals and to make sure Alpha Magnus of Granite Rise didn’t string Granger up by his neck in a tree for what he did to Princess Amanda. “Everything she does is in spite of you,” he continues when I don’t reply. “I can’t say I don’t deserve whatever she’s saying.”“She has a rather colorful vocabulary.” He stops to look out over the city. From our vantage point, the tinkling lights send sprays of silver dancing over the levels of bridges, all the way down to the river. I sigh heavily and go to stuff my hands in the pockets of my jacket before I remember I’m wearing a cloak and not my leather jacket, which I’d dropped off at a seamstress to be mended shortly after I arrived back in
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*Ella*I haven’t had the nerve to paint. It’s been months, honestly. Even after the war, I locked myself in my studio in Crescent Falls and just stared at all of my paintings, several of them unfinished, unable to pick up a paint brush. But something changed this week. I threw everything into training with Westfall. He helped me hone my powers to a fine edge until I could ignite a single candle with a flick of my fingertip. It sounds silly, doesn’t it? But a week ago I tried it for the first time and ignited the entire room, nearly killing us both. It’s incredible progress, and with the physical training included, I’m beginning to feel more like myself again. I brush my fingertips over my jeans, smearing paint. I don’t care. I don’t care that I have paint on my face or the cuffs of my sweatshirt, either. I’m painting, and that’s the greatest progress that’s been made at all. I had to find some way to pass the time and stop my mind from spinning over my last conversation with Ryatt.
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*Ella*Ryatt is on me in a second, crushing me to the far wall. I choke on a sob as his arms come around my waist, his face buried in my hair. I know he’s trying as hard as he can to stop this from happening, from giving into his feelings and our bond, and the thought kills me.I can admit I understand his reluctance. He lost his mother. She died trying to protect him, her love for him the catalyst for her ultimate sacrifice. He sees sending me home in the same light, even if he can’t say it out loud.I can feel it, though, in the power of his touch. I can feel it in the desperation, fury, and despair flowing off him as his mouth meets mine in the most passionate of kisses.“I missed you,” I sob, unable to hold the tears back. “I hated that you left me here.”“Ella—”I take his face between my hands and force him to look at me. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re done carrying this on your shoulders, alone. I was destined to be here fighting beside you, Ryatt. I’ve never believed your pre
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*Maddy*I sigh as I look down at the tangled mess of wood and screws littering our bedroom floor. Isaac leans against the wall, his hair standing on end and his eyes narrowed on the instruction pamphlet for what should be the cribs for our twins.I rub my hands together, arching my brow at my mate, who looks more flustered than I’ve ever seen him before.“I want the head of whoever wrote this fucking thing,” he growls, turning it upside down. “I want them hanging from my gate!”“Just use your powers, for the love of the Goddess!”He turns vengeful eyes to me. “I’ve been to war, Maddy. I can put together a crib!”“Do it, then,” I say, planting my hands on my hips and giving him an expectant look. “Go ahead.”He glowers at me and slides down the wall into a seated position, looking like a surly teenager who just got scolded by his mother rather than the Alpha King.“I could help,” I suggest, but his glower deepens.“You’re supposed to be in bed, Maddy.”“I’ve been in bed since we got ho
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*Ryatt*I tap my pen against my thigh as I lean back in my desk chair. The view beyond the windows in my office is blurred by a gray haze of drizzling rain. It’s late winter, dawning on spring, which means it’s the rainy season in Veiled Valley. Every morning the sun shines and gives a false sense of warmer weather before the clouds roll in off the mountains–heavy and dark–and rattle the entire valley with storms. Ella doesn’t seem to mind the rain. She likes the thunder and lightning, from what I’ve gathered. The weeks we’ve spent in Veiled Valley have been slow and relatively easy now that we’ve come to some kind of an agreement about the nature of our relationship. Still, war is looming. A few skirmishes on the border of the Roguelands and Rifthold have required my attention in the past month. But so far, King Kane hasn’t made any moves to invade my territory, and I’m not ready to wage a full assault on his kingdom, not yet. Granger comes into my office with a handful of rolled
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*Ella*“What the hell is that?” Amanda says, her eyes on the sky above our heads as we make our way back to the castle. This is our normal routine during the day now. Westfall’s training sessions are incredibly light in the mornings now that it's been confirmed that I am, in fact, pregnant. I’m still not able to wrap my mind around it, honestly. Amanda and I spend our afternoons walking around Veiled Valley when the weather allows it. Today has been no different. Until now. Drizzling rain brushes over my cheeks as I turn my eyes to the sky. All around us on the bridge, people have stopped to stare up in awe of a swirling ripple of light illuminating the dark gray storm clouds. “Lightning?” I say to no one in particular. Thunder booms louder than I’ve ever heard it before. The ancient stone bridge rattles, startling the crowd. “We should go,” Amanda says hurriedly, clutching her stomach. “Something doesn’t feel right.”She’s right about that. A strange creeping sensation settles
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LoganRyatt and Evander walk out of sight across the bridge connecting the barracks to the main streets of the city. I look out of my old bedroom window at the sunny glare casting shadows over the valley. The shadows move as the clouds dart across the sky toward the castle, toward my wife, who I’d much rather be with right now than here. I… I don’t have anything to pack. Anything that meant anything to me–my laptop, my fucking glasses–were lost in the shipwreck. I have the clothes on my back, and even those were borrowed from who-knows-where, left on the dresser in Brie’s bedroom by the ghost that haunts her house. She’s all I have, and it’s not like I can pack her in my duffle bag and take her with me. I crank open the window to let in some fresh air to cut through the overwhelmingly male smell of the barracks. I turn to my empty duffle bag with a sigh, bracing my hands on either side of it on the bed, and hang my head, but a whoosh of air rushes out behind me, and I turn in time
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BrieThe moment my bedroom door closes behind us, Logan’s mouth is on mine. The lock slides into place with a soft click, and an even softer groan leaves his mouth when I reach up to run my fingers through his damp curls. He smells like rain and leather. Like the promise of warmth and comfort through another stormy night. And now this man–this loud, obnoxious, opinionated man… he’s mine. He presses a kiss to the ring he bought today on a whim. It’s a simple band of gold–that’s it. “I'll give you a better one when I return,” he promises, kissing the palm of my hand before his lips find mine again. “A ring with a diamond the old gods can see from the heavens.”“I don’t care about that.” I giggle as his hands glide down my sides, pulling me close. Outside, thunder booms, the room lighting in ribbons of blue as lightning splits the clouds, but in here, it’s warm. It’s private. It’s just us. He removes my cloak. It falls to the ground in a heap at my feet. He’s careful with the dress,
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Brie“Tonight?”“Yes, tonight.”“How?” I laugh, taking a step away from him. “We-we can’t.”“We can,” he says breathlessly, shaking his head. “The temple stays open all night. We’d just need to find a priestess.”“We’d need a witness,” I whisper as the cogs in my mind start turning. “I’d need a dress–”“I’d marry you like this,” he says, taking my hands. “But please, for the love of the Goddess, marry me before I go.”I blink up at Logan, my heart swelling and squeezing simultaneously. There’s still a whisper in my mind that warns me that he could change his mind, that he can’t really want me, but I… banish it, giving myself to him fully. “Are you sure?” I ask, scanning his eyes. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want you to be my wife, Brie.”“I’m already your mate.”“It’s not enough.” He brushes my hair out of my face and kisses me, but a rush of air alerts us to a visitor making their way up the stairs to the tower. I pull away as a soft knock sounds on the door. Neither
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