Page 156 of Haunted Crowns
He turned to Eris one last time.
They didn’t speak, because they didn’t need to. Then they stepped into legend.
The roar of thousands crashed against the wind. Above, storm clouds gathered, heavy and dark, as if the heavens could not bear to witness what was coming.
Eris rode hard across frostbitten ground, her stallion's strides pulling her farther from the war and from Stephan.
His voice echoed in her mind: "You are the heart of this army. If our hearts falter, we lose."
So he had sent her away from the front.
She galloped toward the high ridge, the only place her gift might reach them all. She would pour every ounce of power into their war cries, unsure if she could touch an entire army at once, only knowing she had to try. But she would not fight. She would not stand beside him.
The Lycans flanked her. War paint streaked their skin, their golden eyes focused, grim. They were not simply guards; they were living vows, bound in flesh, a wall between her and the carnage.
Still, each hoofbeat felt like exile. As they reached the ridge, the stallion slowed, breath steaming in the cold.
The Lycans spread out around her, silent in their oath-bound presence. But Eris barely noticed. Her gaze had already fallen to the battlefield below. Stephan stood at its center, robed in black and crimson, a figure carved from war. His battle tail streamed behind him like the banner of a forgotten god.
The war god of Dragov. Her war god.
Then a flicker of doubt stirred in her chest, followed by the hollow whisper of absence. Her eyes swept the flank, searching for Kareon. Her pulse pounded as panic pressed in.
Where was he? He should have been there beside the Lycans, a force of nature waiting to be unleashed. But he was not.
The air tightened, cold sliding through her limbs like ice. She had not spoken to him before the battle. There had been no words, no glance, and no final oath. If war swallowed him, she would never forgive herself.
Eris clenched the reins until her knuckles turned white. Her heart was no longer with her. It was down there with them.
With Stephan, her king and her tether to everything they had built.
With Kareon, her constant, who had never asked her to choose because he already knew she belonged to him as well.
She was not meant for this hill. She was meant to stand beside them, but she had obeyed. And now she had no choice but to watch.
The wind ripped across the ridge, carrying the thunder of war drums, the steel-clad murmur of an army ready to march. And then a gallop rose behind her, fast and unmistakable.
Eris turned, her heart slamming against her ribs as her gaze locked onto him.
Kareon.
His stallion devoured the frozen ground, hooves striking stone and frost. He rode like night itself, dark, untamed, and relentless. Her breath hitched as warmth bloomed in her chest. He had come before the bloodshed. He had come for her.
Kareon dismounted in one fluid motion, shadow-smooth. His golden eyes locked onto hers, unwavering. He moved toward her like a wolf drawn to its moon, pulled, possessed, and powerless to resist, because she was the only thing in this world that mattered.
And then they collided.
Her hands fisted in the thick pelts over his shoulders. “Kareon.” His name was a prayer, a tether, a victory.
His hands clamped around her, anchoring her while their breaths mingled, uneven and far too close.
Eris exhaled, breathless. “For a second, I thought you weren’t coming.”
Kareon smirked, easy. “And miss the chance to make a dramatic entrance? Please.”
She shook her head, a reluctant smile rising. “You’ll never change.”
His gaze flickered. Something unreadable moved beneath the teasing. “You wouldn’t want me to.”
