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The Braided Hair and Lucian’s Promise
Last Updated:
2025-12-17 11:14:06
Angel ColeThis chapter is very close to my heart. After so much conflict and danger, I wanted to pause and show a quieter kind of strength—the kind that lives in care, presence, and promises made without witnesses. Lucian braiding Talia’s hair and keeping watch over her felt deeply honest to me. It’s one of my favorite moments in the story, because it shows who he is when the crown comes off. I’d love to know how this chapter felt to you. Did it move you the way it moved me? All comments are welcome—I truly read every one. If you’re enjoying the story, please consider adding it to your library or supporting it with a gift. It helps this world continue to grow. Thank you for being here with me.
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Snow still fell, but thinner now, the wind easing just enough to let scent through.Ash.Blood.Burned fur.Talia slowed Alder instinctively. Kaela stirred beneath her skin—not loud, not demanding, but alert. Watchful. Her wolf had been unusually quiet since Talia left the mountain house. Not sulking. Not petulant. Kaela did that when she didn’t get her runs, when she felt ignored—an obnoxious two-year-old in spirit who could flood Talia with restless energy until she laughed or gave in.This was different.Kaela wasn’t restless.She was grieving.“I know,” Talia murmured under her breath. “I feel it too.”They crested the ridge, and the world below came into view.What had once been an outpost was now a grave without markers.Charred beams jutted from the snow at crooked angles, blackened and split. The border marker—etched generations ago with oaths of loyalty and protection—lay shattered in two, its runes scorched beyond recognition. Smoke no longer rose, but the smell lingered, he
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Lucian's POVThe storm swallowed her tracks by morning.Cassius said she’d taken the southern trail—the one that cut along the ridge toward the old Blackriver borders. Lucian hadn’t needed confirmation. He could feel the bond stretching thin in that direction, faint and flickering, like a heartbeat muffled by smoke.She hadn’t severed it.She’d muted it.That was worse.All through the night, Lucian paced the great hall, hearth after hearth burning down to ash beneath his restless hand before flaring back to life again. Smoke clung to the rafters. The stone walls felt closer with every passing hour. Savage prowled beneath his skin, restless, pacing with him—fur bristling, claws scraping bone.Savage missed her.Missed Kaella’s presence in the wind. Missed the rhythm of their shared runs, the way she always laughed when Savage surged ahead and doubled back for her.Cassius lingered near the doorway, silent, knowing better than to offer comfort to a king whose instincts were caged and w
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Lucian POVLucian decided to let Talia get as much sleep as possible before they left for the inner city. Whatever strength she had left, she would need it behind stone walls and ancient wards, not here in a mountain house that pretended to be safe.The fire had burned low, little more than a hush of orange coals. Lucian sat awake beside it, boots planted on the stone floor, elbows resting on his knees, listening to the quiet as soldiers listened for ghosts.Quiet never meant peace.It meant waiting.Talia lay in the next room, her breathing soft and even—too even. Lately, even her sleep felt heavy, as if rest no longer reached all the way to her bones. She spoke less each day. Laughed less. The spark in her eyes—the one that had survived exile, war, prophecy, and blood—had dulled into something fragile and distant, like a star seen through fog.He’d told himself it was exhaustion.That carrying three lives would weigh on any woman.But tonight, he had learned it was more.Through the
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Alina didn’t need the mind-link to know who was coming.She opened the door quietly, slipping into the corridor before the handle could turn.Casius stood there, his expression calm, which was impressive given their circumstances.“The library,” he said in a low voice. “I already called Lucian.”Alina’s gaze flicked toward the closed door farther down the corridor—Talia’s room. “She’s resting,” Alina whispered.“Good,” Casius replied. “She stays that way. She can’t be part of this conversation. We protect the Luna—even from herself.”The library sat half-buried in the mountain, its walls thick with stone and old magic. Shelves lined the room floor to ceiling, heavy with records of wars, bloodlines, and decisions that had reshaped kingdoms.Lucian stood at the tall, narrow window overlooking the treeline, moonlight casting his silhouette in pale silver.“You called?” he asked without turning.Casius closed the door behind them, the sound final. “We needed to talk. Away from her.”Lucia
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The fire burned low, its glow soft and amber against the walls of the village home. Outside, night had settled deep over the valley, blanketing the world in quiet. For once, there were no council summonses, no alarms, no cries of war — only the hush of wind through the pines and the sound of Lucian’s steady breathing beside Talia.She sat curled against a pile of furs, an old book resting on her knees — The Legacy of Flamebearers, a text Alina had brought her from the palace archives. Her eyes skimmed the words, though she hardly read them. Her focus lingered on the gentle swell of her stomach and the small, rhythmic motions beneath her palm. The life within her stirred again, a ripple of warmth and movement that drew a faint smile to her lips.“They’re restless tonight,” she murmured.Lucian’s deep voice carried a hint of amusement. “They get that from you.”Talia’s smile widened. “Hardly. You were born restless, King of Fire.”He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. “And yet someho
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Talia POVThe air changed first.Not sound. Not movement.Pressure.It crept low and sharp, like heat trapped beneath stone, pressing against her ribs and spine until her breath shortened. Talia felt it before anyone spoke—felt the pull, the subtle tightening of something hunting for purchase.For her.Ash-lines flared beneath Thomas’s boots, sickly green light bleeding through the stone floor in curling sigils that crawled outward, searching. The spell wasn’t fully formed yet—but it was alive. Hungry.The mark on Talia’s chest burned.Not pain.Recognition.Her heartbeat slowed instead of racing, a steady drum anchoring her where fear should have taken hold. Heat spread outward from the left side of her chest, sinking deep into muscle and bone, flowing down her arms like molten breath. “Lucian,” she said sharply.He moved instantly, pulling her back as the sigils flared.“Containment!” Casius barked.Green fire erupted across the floor, not consuming, not spreading—controlled chaos.
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