Heir of Stardust and Secrets (Mythic Spark #1)

37. Not a Moment Too Soon

Chapter 37

Not a Moment Too Soon

C aius valenned us back to the grounds, and we walked along the pathway through his beautiful estate. We made our way to the large overlook I’d come to that first night to take a moment to myself.

I stood there, cataloging as many details as I could, wanting to remember the unmistakable beauty of his court and the soothing thrum of Caius’ powers.

Facing him, I said, “Thank you for your hospitality, High Lord.” I curtsied low, out of respect and gratitude.

He inclined his head to me. “It was an honor, Nyleeria.”

No sooner had Caius straightened than Fiora and Myron appeared, startling me. Caius smiled wryly at me, and I narrowed my eyes, making him smile in earnest.

“We wanted to thank you for your gracious hospitality before we take our leave,” Myron said, extending an arm to Caius. Forearm to forearm, they wrapped their hands around each other’s elbows in a form of greeting.

Caius released Myron and turned to Fiora. “Always a pleasure, Fiora,” he said and gently placed a kiss on the back of her hand .

She smiled and offered a curtsy of her own. “Until next time, Lord Caius.”

Fiora stepped toward me, lightly touching my arm as she kissed the air on either side of my face. I froze in surprise, and she smiled at me, then stepped back.

“Be well, Nyleeria,” Myron offered.

“And you. Both of you,” I said, grateful for everything they had done for me.

Fiora gave me a wink, and then they were gone. I stared after them, knowing a part of me would miss them.

“Shall we?” Caius said, offering his hand to me.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s time for you to go home.”

The relief I felt at those words almost broke something in me, and I placed my hand in his, ready to valen back to the palace.

The four of us stood back in the room we’d departed from in silence. It wasn’t a strained silence, but a pause, a breath, a moment to readjust back into our realm.

Back. We were back.

I hadn’t realized how on edge I had been at the Summer Court until I almost wept with relief at simply being here.

The same emotions ran across the faces of my companions, and Thaddeus slipped his hand into mine, gently squeezing—a silent apology.

“Let’s not do that again anytime soon,” Tarrin said.

The words cracked something in me, and the released tension came out as a half-laugh, half-sob.

“Another five hundred years would be too soon,” Nevander said, and his dry humor made me laugh in earnest until tears ran down my face.

It didn’t take long for Tarrin to join in, and before I knew it, we were all caught in fits of laughter like the day I’d shattered the windows.

There were worse ways to cope.

Shortly after, I bathed and slipped into bed, even though it was midday.

Just as I closed my eyes, a soft knock sounded at the door. Damn it. I just wanted to sleep. I threw the blankets aside and stepped toward the door, wrapping my silk robe around me. Opening the door, I found Thaddeus holding a tray of food.

“I brought you something to eat,” he said, eyes soft with apology. I assessed him for a moment, deciding whether to accept this gesture or turn him away.

I slid to the side, letting him pass.

He set the tray down in the sitting area that overlooked the gardens, then focused on me, waiting. I joined him, taking a seat in one of the oversized chairs.

There was a large bowl of stew, a fresh buttered roll, and a slice of chocolate cake with raspberries. I heaved a sigh. I’d never been more grateful for comfort food in my life. I smiled inwardly at how such simple things brought me joy. I didn’t like how big my life had become—how uncomfortable it was to be stretched so far. Being back, bathed, and fed—these comforts allowed me to start contracting back into my natural shape. Sure, I had stretch marks from the journey, but I was slowly coming back into myself.

I picked up the stew and let each bite warm my soul as Thaddeus sat beside me, silently staring out into the garden.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, worry etching his face.

“I’m okay. Raw, but okay.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I think it will just take time. Although, you being a jealous asshole doesn’t help matters.”

Shame crossed his features. “I know. I am sorry, Nyleeria.”

“Are you?”

“Of course,” he said earnestly, brows knitting in confusion .

“Sorry enough that it’s something you won’t have to apologize for again? Or are you saying sorry just to get me to drop it so you can get back into my bed, then accuse me of being a whore when someone smiles at me?”

He breathed in deeply, then leaned over and ran his hands through his hair. “I…” he tried but stopped short.

I sat back, the plate of cake in hand, and tucked my legs beneath me. I let the rich, chocolaty goodness melt in my mouth, savoring every morsel. I was unconcerned by his internal battle. This was something he’d have to figure out, and it genuinely had nothing to do with me. I was content to let him sort it out while I enjoyed that tiny slice of heaven.

Finally releasing his hands from his hair, he faced me. “I’ve never been this way before,” he said, “and believe me when I tell you that I heard as much from Tarrin and Nevander when you left today.” I smiled inwardly as I envisioned it. “I want to promise you it will never happen again, give us both that peace of mind. But the truth is, there’s something primal about me that reacts to you, to others being near you. I get angry and irrationally jealous. Watching you dance with them, be close to them, laugh with them… It drove me mad, and then you disappeared with Endymion, of all fae. He’s, well…”

Stars, he was afraid, insecure that I would choose a perfectly crafted fae male over him. Endymion was enticing, to be sure, but to take a fae to bed…the idea had never crossed my mind, no matter how beautiful he was.

I softened and rested the plate on the table, facing him.

“I understand. If a woman was openly fawning over you, I’d be upset too. But with her , Thaddeus, not you. With what we have…I trust it means you’re not sharing your bed with others, but your reactions suggest you don’t extend the same courtesy to me, and it feels like an assault on my honor. And if I’m being honest, when you behave like that, it pushes me away. Makes me want to guard myself, deny you access—because your insinuations…they hurt. ”

“Gods, Nyleeria. I never intended…” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

I rose from my seat and knelt before him. Tilting his chin up, I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I only have eyes for you, Thaddeus.”

With loving tenderness, he kissed me back.

I rose to my feet, extending a hand toward him, and said, “Lay with me.”

Snuggling in under the covers, he held me tight, and the warm comfort of him pressing against my back allowed me to contract back into shape a little more.

The next morning, I rolled over, reaching instinctively for Thaddeus but instead of the warmth of his body, my hand met a hard surface. Blinking in surprise, I found a tray laden with breakfast and fresh flowers where he usually slept. Sitting up, a grin spread across my face—perhaps Thaddeus should be guilt-ridden more often.

A simple breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, toast, fru—my heart skipped a beat. I barely registered the glass of orange juice clattering against the plate as its contents spilled out. The blade, the sphere, the intricate swirls were just as I remembered. Gods, how I’d missed my dagger—the only remnant of my past.

Emotions flooded me, predominantly relief. I hugged the dagger to my chest, feeling the weight of it against my body, the hilt under my fingers. Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back to face the heavens.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

I took in every detail, rubbing the sapphire-blue stone with my thumb. This dagger didn’t just represent where I came from, or Eithan—it reminded me of who I was, what grounded me, and what brought me joy. I couldn’t deny that part of me any longer, and I knew now that I didn’t have to. I was safe.

Maybe one day I’d feel the same way about magic as I did about the blade, but until then, I’d keep throwing. Even still, I doubted I would ever let this part of me lay dormant again, knowing the cost.

There was a quiet knock on the door .

“Enter,” I said mindlessly, continuing to reacquaint myself with the dagger.

“You spoiled your breakfast,” Ava said.

I smiled widely and set the dagger aside. Embracing her tightly, I said, “Stars, it’s good to see you.”

“You weren’t away that long,” she remarked.

“True, but stars, it felt like a lifetime.”

Ava laughed, and the soft sound lit up the room. “The Summer Court suits you,” she said, noting my darkened completion, my skin looking as if summer had almost passed.

“I think that’s the only part of the Summer Court that agreed with me,” I said with a dark chuckle.

“Let me get you something else to eat,” she offered as she went to clear the untouched tray.

“No, thank you. I’ll just grab something from the kitchen on my way out.”

My dreams last night had been full of training sequences, the fire within fully rekindled. And now, with my dagger in hand, I needed to immerse myself in that rhythmic flow. Denying the urge would be like a wave depriving the shores of its presence—impossible.

Ava’s brows furrowed, but she made her way to the wardrobe and laid out the simple skirt and shirt combination I’d become accustomed to.

“I’m going to need something…different today,” I ventured.

She took my measure, noting the dagger, and gave a nod of understanding. Mercifully, she didn’t give me a hard time and handed me a tight-fitting pair of navy-blue pants with sufficient stretch to them and a simple pale-blue T-shirt with a loose fit. It was perfect.

I’d wanted to throw my hair in a bun and leave, but she insisted braids would hold better. My knee bobbed incessantly as I waited for her to finish weaving the double braids and tie them into a bun at the nape of my neck.

Lost in excitement, I arrived at the training area in a blink, though area seemed too modest a word as I took in its grandeur. The last time I was here, my attention had been stolen by the half-naked men on display. I quickly pushed that memory aside and continued up the small staircase.

The platform stretched out into a massive rectangle, roughly fifty paces from corner to corner, offering ample space for sparring. Oversized pillars flanked the perimeter, supporting a small, ineffectual roof that failed to shield the training surface. It might have been intended to shelter spectators from the elements, though I had my doubts. The ground was covered in tight wooden planks reminiscent of hardwood flooring, though rough and weathered.

As I stepped off the worn surface and onto the training area, I had to rebalance. Kneeling, I examined it. While the dull sheen and density gave it a stonelike appearance, it was anything but. The material yielded beneath my touch, reminding me of spongy moss, although greatly compressed.

I rose and bounced on my toes, lightly testing it. The strange flooring responded much like the taut hide of a tribal drum yielding to the seasoned thumb of the drummer, gently forcing it to rebound. I wondered what purpose it held. Surely, it would hurt less to fall on, but I doubted that was a consideration for these ancient males. It must have some performance-enhancing elements, or perhaps it reduced injury.

Beyond the length of the platform stood a modest lean-to. Curious, I approached. My mouth agape in sheer amazement, I descended an adjacent staircase, captivated by the array before me. Meticulously displayed inside were weapons of every kind: spears, axes, swords, bows, daggers, throwing knives, and some I couldn’t identify.

I searched the inventory until I found blades that were closest to mine and counted them out. Thirty, which was more than I’d be able to arm myself with. I looked around for a bandolier and saw a sizable wardrobe to my right.

The smallest bandolier was still far too big. I anchored the bottom of it using hand wraps, then tied the fabric across my hips to hold it in place. Doing so meant I could only sheathe ten blades, but it was better than having the bandolier slide. I sighed, missing my own equipment.

Loaded and ready, I walked toward the large wooden poles that rose out of the ground in different heights and colors in the small, adjacent field. They already bore deep marks of training in a high-low pattern.

My chest fluttered as I pulled the first blade, and I had to steady myself to stop my hands from shaking.

The day passed by in a joyous flurry of training. Resting, I rubbed the tips of my fingers where a tender throb from the bowstring and blades had made the skin red and raw. Stars, how I’d missed this, and I knew it wouldn’t take long for the callouses to reclaim their rightful place again.

It was getting late, and my measly breakfast had long since worn off, but I wanted to do another round of throwing before heading back.

As my last blade struck true, I stood up straight and relished the satisfaction sweeping through me before reclaiming the daggers.

“I should have known I’d find you here,” Thaddeus crooned.

I swiveled in place and was met by a feline grin.

He closed the gap between us and was now towering over me. Wearing heels these past few days, I’d almost forgotten how tall he was, and a man’s height was different in bed somehow.

Leaning over, he brushed his mouth along my ear. “Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are when you throw?” His warm lips against my skin sent gooseflesh skittering in every direction. Voice quiet and deep, he said, “After you’d slain that mannequin, I had to pleasure myself before I could get on with my day, lest I get distracted.”

The admission burned its way down to the tips of my toes as I pictured him pumping himself dry. Leaning in, I pressed the flat of my palm against his arousal, and slowly dragged it down the sensitive underside.

He shuddered, and I did it again to elicit the same response.

His mouth met mine, and we claimed one another with frantic, unbridled yearning.

We broke apart only long enough for me to pull his shirt over his head, not even having time to take in his sculpted torso as his mouth crashed against mine. There was no gentleness in his hands as they wrapped through my braids. Tugging my head back, he lowered his head and scraped his teeth across my neck as he rubbed his hardness against my idle palm.

I pushed my free hand against his chest and broke our embrace. His hands slid from my hair, and he made to kiss me. I tilted my head to oblige, but just as he went to make contact, I shifted away—it was my turn to give him a feline grin. Seeing the promise in my gaze, his eyes widened as he pressed his lower lip hard between his teeth.

His corded muscles shifted under my hands as I dragged them up his arms and across his shoulders. He shuddered as I danced my fingertips down his torso, followed by my lips.

Sucking his nipple into my mouth, I bit down softly before rolling my tongue in a lazy circle around it—being sure to give the other side the same treatment. Looking up, I caught his gaze before blowing lightly on the slickness I’d left behind. He breathed in a shaky breath, jaw tight and fists clenched.

Taking my time, I slid down to my knees, kissing and caressing as I saw fit. Once settled, I unbuttoned his pants and dragged my tongue straight across the sensitive skin just above the band of his undergarment. He grabbed for me, but I dismissed the effort, shooting him a look that let him know this was to be a spectator sport only, and feral delight crossed his features.

Thumbs around the waistband, his length sprang forward as I pulled his garments down, letting them rest at his ankles.

I kissed the hollows on each side, making sure he felt my breath as I passed along the part of him craving to be in me—the effort rewarded as his hands flexed out wide, fingers splayed before clenching into fists.

Good, it was my turn to repay his deliciously torturous ministrations.

As I placed his family jewels in my palm, cupping them, he sucked in a breath, and the thickness standing ready twitched in response.

Delicately, I lifted him to expose the sensitive underbelly of his length.

I lowered my mouth to his base. Ready, I paused, knowing the effect it would have. Without warning, I flattened my tongue against him, and slid base to tip in one firm, slow motion.

“Oh gods,” Thaddeus pled.

I slipped him in my mouth, eliciting another moan, and sucked his length in inch by glorious inch. Knowing his size, I added my free hand at his base and began working my hand, mouth, and tongue in unison—sliding him in and out. In and out.

“Nyleeria…I…I want to be inside you…now.”

I sucked harder, returning the favor from the other night, until he understood that I was only after his pleasure. He fisted my braids in response and thrust—it was restrained, but I was ready for him.

At his next thrust, I allowed him in further, going deep enough that I was grateful for the hand I’d placed at his hilt.

His undoing was all around me in his moans, his hips, the twitching under my palms, until he finally contracted, spilling himself in me with my name on his lips. I swallowed, his depth leaving me no other choice.

Once every drop of pleasure had been coaxed from him, I slid my mouth slowly from his base, still sucking until he was no longer in me.

He dropped to his knees, panting, then grabbed my face between his palms and kissed me hard, a pleasure-filled haze still clouding his eyes.