The Wraith King (The Rise of Northgall, #1)

by Juliette Cross

“One day, my love, Lumera will pay for her betrayal. Her people will not shine so bright. Her descendants will fall, and ours will rise. Then will enter your reign…the era of night.”

“You are the destiny. You are the dark lady.” Her dialect was perfect Issosian. “You are for him.”

“I will never kneel at your feet. You are not my king.”

Then he swung his sword with swift precision and force, slicing through the throat of King Xakiel.

“I am Gollaya Verbane, son of Xakiel, rightful heir to the throne of Northgall,” I proclaimed in a clear voice. “Pledge fealty now and you will be spared.”

Gods, I wasn’t prepared for how fucking beautiful she’d become.

He was breathtakingly and unaccountably beautiful.

“You will not be my concubine.” He tilted his head, watching me intently. “You will be the mother of my heir.”

“Firstborn? Are you expecting more than one child from me?” One shoulder lifted in a casual shrug, which was not disarming in the least. “You may enjoy my company in your bed and decide to give me more.”

“He won’t hurt you. He’s gentle as a lamb.” “I’ll bet he eats lambs.”

“This news will be spread everywhere. If they think me monstrous, so be it. But all will know the consequences to anyone who dares touch what is mine. That goes for my land, my property, and you.”

I wondered if the gods blessed me or hated me by giving me this feisty harpy of a moon fae. For the way I wanted her was frightening, humiliating, and all-consuming.

By Vix, she was beautiful.

She was the only one I wanted in my bed. And the want was killing me slowly.

She laughed, the sound freezing me to the spot. It was the first time I’d seen or heard her laugh, and I didn’t simply hear it. I felt it tremble through me, warming my blood further. Bewitching and beguiling.

For the gods knew, she’d caught and caged my very soul.

There was no escape for the pretty princess. She was going to be mine.

“Ora est kel ohira. Ora est kel näkt los. Ora est meheem.”

Una was mine. She was always meant to be mine.

I must not hurt her. I must not hurt her.

Goddess above. He looked magnificent.

“I choose you, Una.”

“You cannot ever leave me,”

“I’ve got you,” I promised her.

“I swear upon Vix himself, I will keep only one mate—my mizrah. For as long as I draw breath, there will only be you.” He held me tighter, eyes slipping closed as he whispered, “Only you.”

“Your mizrah?” I asked gently. “Or your wife?” My own voice finally broke, a tear slipping down my face. “Gods, Una.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “You’re my everything.”

“The runes mean mother of all fae kind. But

“I present to you Tiarrialuna Hartstone Verbane! My mizrah, my wife”—I turned to her, my heart in my throat as I declared before all—“and my queen.”

“My beautiful queen.”

“Now I know I’m not dreaming. Only my headstrong sister could walk into Northgall a prisoner and make herself a queen.”