Vow of the Shadow King (Bride of the Shadow King, #2)

by Sylvia Mercedes

And grief is such a wild, untamed creature, always returning at the most unexpected times to bite.

I know something then with absolute certainty. Perhaps the only certainty in my whole sorry, uncertain life. I know this image of her—clad in that pink, trolde-style gown, wearing that crown of uncut gems, her hair tumbled about her face and shoulders, her eyes uplifted to mine—will stay with me to the end. When the world comes all undone, when the cracks spread and the caverns fall, her face, just as it is right now, will be the last vision my mind’s eye sees.

“I won’t live my life aching for what I never had the courage to take.”

“What have you done to me?” He kisses me again, gently. A sweet touch, like a promise, a prayer. “I would hazard it all. My realm, my crown, my kingdom. Even my honor. All for you. Only for you.”

“You are mine, Faraine. My Queen. Sovereign Lady of Mythanar and the Under Realm, from this day forth and forevermore.”

Then and there, with her kiss burning my lips I make a solemn vow: to be worthy of that choice. To be worthy of her love. To be worthy of her. My angel. My queen. My wife.