Chapter 66 The Mark of Us
Damien
The door closes softly behind me, and I lean back against it, breathing out a long, uneven breath. Steam still curls from the crack, carrying the scent of her—frost and heat and something that clings to my skin like temptation. My pulse hasn’t calmed from all the events that unfolded last night...and this morning.
The dragon is the first to break the silence. You’re welcome.
“For what?” I mutter, scrubbing a hand down my face.
For biting her.
I pause mid-step. “You were the one who did that?”
We were one, he says lazily, far too pleased with himself. You wanted her. I simply… helped.
“I didn’t mean to mark her.”
No, he agrees. But we did. And she marked us back.
That shuts me up. My chest tightens as I glance down, pulling at the fabric of my shirt. Her mark glows faintly beneath it, pale blue light pulsing in slow rhythm with my heartbeat. I trace it through the cloth—her handprint—cool to the touch, but the warmth that blooms inside me is anything but cold. My mate. The words feel foreign, dangerous, perfect. My mate. Mine.
The dragon hums, smug and content. Say it again. Louder.
“No.”
Coward.
I almost laugh. The sound sticks in my throat, caught somewhere between disbelief and joy. I didn’t plan this. I’d spent my life believing I would never find someone strong enough to tie my soul to. But when she looked at me last night, when I felt her heart answer mine, everything I thought I knew about control broke. And she didn’t run. She didn’t push me away. She branded me back.
A flicker of her face comes to mind—flushed, fierce, completely undone beneath me—and something twists behind my ribs. For a creature born of flame, I’ve never felt warmth like this.
The dragon rumbles softly, amused. You’re thinking about her again.
“I never stopped.”
Good. You shouldn’t. She’s ours.
He’s right. The bond hums faintly in my veins, a golden thread connecting us even from rooms apart. I can still feel her in the bath, her emotions bleeding through, she's at peace, amused, still slightly aroused, and there's a flicker of mischief that makes the corners of my mouth tug upward.
“She’s bathing,” I murmur before I can stop myself.
I know.
“Don’t even think about it.”
I already did.
I groan and shove away from the door. “You’re insufferable.”
You’re glowing.
“I am not—” I look down again. The faint blue light flickers through my shirt, proof that I am, in fact, glowing. “Gods above,” I mutter, tugging the fabric closed. “You’ve made me ridiculous.”
You made yourself happy, the dragon says simply. It’s about time.
Before I can argue, there’s a sharp knock at the door. Three quick raps. Marius. Always punctual, always inconvenient.
“Enter,” I call.
The door swings open, and Marius steps in, looking thoroughly winded. His silver hair is sticking up in every direction, his spectacles crooked on his nose. “Your Majesty—thank the gods you’re awake.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“Good! Because something is very wrong.”
“Define wrong.”
“The weather.” He gestures vaguely toward the windows, eyes wide. “There was a blizzard a few hours ago, then calm, then warmth. And now—now it’s gone. All of it. The snow, the frost, the storms—they just… vanished. The air is warm, Majesty. Warm!”
I glance past him to the frosted glass. Or rather, what was frosted glass. Water streaks down its surface in rivulets. Sunlight filters through without distortion. Beyond the window, I can see the gardens, the grass, wet stone, and the faint shimmer of thawed ponds.
“The people are frightened,” Marius continues, wringing his hands. “We need to understand what magic is at play here.”
“The balance shifted,” I say quietly.
He frowns. “Shifted how?”
Before I can answer, he notices the faint glow bleeding through my shirt. His words die in his throat. “Majesty… what is that?”
I look down, then back at him, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I don’t feel the need to hide anything. I unbutton the top few clasps and pull the shirt open. The blue mark gleams like captured lightning, bright even in the morning sun.
Marius gasps. “You’re bonded.”
The words hang there between us, reverent and stunned. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face—it feels foreign, stretching muscles I’ve barely used.
“A Queen,” he whispers. Then louder, disbelievingly joyful: “A Queen! We have a Queen!”
He starts pacing, gesturing wildly as though he can already see the banners, the celebrations. “Oh, but you’ve done it a little backward, Majesty—there’s meant to be a wedding first, of course, but that can be arranged! The council will want to make it official, the people will—oh, the people will lose their minds with joy!”
I laugh. I can’t help it. The sound bursts out of me, rich and low, startling even to my own ears.
Marius stops mid-ramble, staring like I’ve sprouted another head. Then, slowly, he grins. “She must be something truly special if she’s got you laughing, Majesty.”
“She is,” I say simply. “She’s everything.”
The dragon hums in my chest, pleased. And she’s ours.
I nod slowly. “The cold came with her,” I say, choosing my words with care. “It wasn’t natural—it moved with her. When our bond formed, it broke. The balance shifted.”
He blinks. “You mean the storm was hers?”
“In a way,” I admit. “The winter came early this year, just as she crossed into my lands. The moment we bonded, it released its hold.”
Marius exhales, a mix of awe and disbelief. “Then she truly brought the change. The warmth, the calm—it’s all because of her?”
“Because of us,” I correct quietly. “Fire met frost, and for the first time, neither consumed the other.”
Marius smiles, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Then perhaps this warmth is a blessing, Majesty. The realm needed balance.”
I glance toward the window, where sunlight spills across the stone. “So did I,” I murmur.
Marius blinks.. “Shall I inform the court? The people will want to celebrate. And if I may—perhaps it would be wise to prepare for appearances. A royal introduction.”
“Not yet,” I say. “Let her rest first. She’s been through enough.”
“Of course, sire.” He hesitates, his excitement tempered by curiosity. “Forgive me, but… what’s she like?”
“Strong. Stubborn. Infuriating. Perfect.” The dragon chuckles. And she bites.
Marius blinks at my sudden smirk but wisely decides not to ask. “Then she’ll make a fine Queen,” he says, bowing.
He backs out of the room, still muttering happily under his breath about weddings and festivals and how the kitchens will have to triple their stock of honeycakes. I look down again at the glowing handprint over my heart. It pulses once, twice—then steadies, as if answering my heartbeat. Through the bond, I feel her faintly—warm water, the soft sigh of relaxation, the dragon’s amused rumble echoing faintly in both our minds.
I press my palm over the mark. “Rest while you can, Snowflake,” I murmur. “Because the world’s going to change.”
The dragon stretches, wings unfurling in the back of my mind. It already has.