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“Vhalla.” Baldair chuckled weakly. “You’re scary when you let your ferocity show—a little twister.”
It was a small room occupied by five others sleeping cramped upon the floor. On the other side of Aldrik, the feet of the ever-tall Jax poked out from under the blankets that he had effectively cocooned around his head. Elecia slept with her mouth open, her limbs spread wide and her breathing heavy. Cuddled closely to the woman and to Vhalla’s immediate left was a messy-haired man; words could not describe the immense relief that filled her at the sight of him.
“That I wouldn’t be able to face the world without you by my side.”
Nia giggled next to her, twirling a lock of hair around her fingers. Bringing Jax into a house of young maids was an awful idea.
“So bringing achel back to the Caverns, and the Crystal Crown, Victor reunited the power and tapped into the font of magic itself in the process?”
The look on his face alone affirmed all her suspicions on what he’d been thinking. “That would be your child.” “I know.” As if she needed reminding. “And even if it is, I still think you should agree.”
“Will you two get a room?” Jax groaned from Aldrik’s opposite side. Aldrik was pushed closer to Vhalla as a swift kick was placed on his lower back. “Tired of listening to lovers’ sweet nothings.” “Jax!” Aldrik snapped, rolling over. “I did not realize you wanted accommodations in the dungeons upon our return.”
His succession came washed in the blood of his father and all who dared support his name. His gifts, his prizes of leadership, were loss and hardship. There was no mantle of the sun to settle upon his shoulders, only pain.