House of Striking Oaths (The Kingdom of Crows, #3)

by Olivia Wildenstein

Spread your wings and meet me where the clouds roll over the horizon and the stars are at their brightest. The sky, like my kingdom, is yours.

I cannot lose you again, Fallon. I will not survive it. The world will not survive it.

“I know the mark you wear is that of my people, Behach Éan, but fuck if it doesn’t feel like mine, and mine alone on you.”

“Thu thòrt mo focèn ánach, Behach Éan.”

Together we rise into the blush of dawn where thousands upon thousands of beating wings paint the horizon black, and my mate’s eyes, a smoldering shade of gold.

My sorrow and exhaustion are so loud and ugly, they echo over the spray and buckle my knees, driving me down to the floor where I curl in on myself like the shell around my throat.

Like a queen, Little Bird. He steals my hands off my waist and carries them to his mouth for a tender kiss. My queen.