Thornhill Academy. Chapter 122

**Rhaziel**

I have seen beauty before. In the rise of storms. In the first bloom of night, when the realms fold together and breathe as one. But none of it compares to the sight before me now. My little hummingbird sits in the morning light with my sigils traced across her skin. They lie there softly, not as chains or brands, but as stories—lines of my bloodline reshaped to fit her body as if the shadows themselves had waited for her. She watches them with wonder, and I watch her. The marks rest across her collarbones, curling up her throat and down the inside of her arms. They glow faintly, not with dominance or threat, but with belonging. The sight stirs something dangerous and tender in me. I never imagined I would live to see another wearing my sigils. The council of my realm believed it impossible. No human, no creature of light, could bear the shadows without burning. Yet here she stands. Perfect. Mine. The word hums through my chest before I can swallow it. I should not think it so easily, yet it feels truer than any vow I have ever spoken. She flexes her fingers, testing the glow, and I have to clench my own hands to keep from touching her again. Each movement sends a pulse through the room, a faint echo of shadow that stirs the air. Gods, she is magnificent. If the others could see her now—the elders of my realm, the courtiers who whisper that their king has gone soft, they would fall silent. They would see what I see: the Queen of Shadows, born not of my blood but of choice, of balance. And they would know what it means. The mark of the King now exists on two bodies. The kingdom will feel that shift and the political equilibrium that has held my throne steady for centuries will tremble. There will be questions. Accusations. Perhaps even a challenge. A mortal girl bearing the royal sigils breaks every law of the old order. Let them tremble. Let them rage. I will not hide her.

I step closer, my hand hovering above her shoulder, not yet touching. The faint light warms my palm. “They suit you,” I whisper again, more to myself than her. “Perfectly.”

Her lips curve in a sleepy half-smile, and for a heartbeat, I let myself believe that perhaps the world has stopped fighting me. That perhaps even kings can be granted small mercies. Then movement stirs from the bed behind us. A low groan. The rustle of sheets. The hellhound first, rubbing the heel of his hand over his eyes. The dragon follows, blinking into the light, hair a mess, expression already halfway to irritated.

Kael’s gaze lands on Allison. His nostrils flare. “Uh…” He points, brows rising. “Trouble? What the fuck are those?”

Allison freezes mid-stretch, glancing down at her arms as if she could hide them. The sigils flare brighter, betraying her.

Evander sits up, instantly alert. “Those weren’t there yesterday.” His voice is calm, but his eyes flick between us, calculating.

I can feel the shadows in the room bristle, answering the sudden tension. “Peace,” I say quietly, lifting a hand. My power hums, smoothing the edges of the air. “They are not a curse.”

Kael swings his legs over the side of the bed, still glaring. “You marked her?”

The accusation is sharp, and Allison looks ready to defend herself, but I speak first. “Not as you think. She fed from me. The marks appeared after.”

Evander’s head tilts, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So they’re yours.”

“Yes,” I answer, unashamed. “And yet they are hers.”

Kael mutters something about shadow-demon nonsense, but he doesn’t move closer. He’s studying the sigils now, curiosity breaking through his irritation.

Allison fidgets, tracing a line along her wrist. “They don’t hurt,” she offers softly. “They just… are.”

I nod. “They mean she survived what none before her could. That she carries a part of my realm within her.”

Evander whistles under his breath. “That’s gonna go over great with the council, huh?”

“Indeed,” I murmur, though a smile tugs at my lips anyway.

Kael crosses his arms, eyes narrowing at the glow along her neck. “Okay, so do they, I don’t know—come off? Fade? Hide? Because walking around with royal demon graffiti on her skin seems like a real good way to get hunted.”

The question pulls me from my quiet pride. I study the faint shimmer again, this time through a different lens—protection, not possession. “She should not have a target on her back,” I say, more to myself than them. The idea unsettles me. In my realm, my sigil is a shield. Here, it could be a beacon.

Allison bites her lip, glancing between us. “Does everyone who isn't a demon but bonds with a demon end up like this?”

“No,” I tell her, meeting her gaze. “You carry them because you are a siphon. You drew my power fully into yourself. The shadows recognised you as one of us and marked you accordingly.”

Her breath stutters. “And there lies the problem.”

Kael frowns. “Shit”

She gestures helplessly at her glowing skin. “Because no one can know what I am, and now it’s literally written across my chest.” Silence stretches. Even the shadows pause their slow drift.

Evander leans forward, elbows on his knees. “She’s got a point, man. If our council sees that, they’ll lose their damn minds.”

I feel it then—the subtle weight of the situation pressing down between my ribs. She is right. What was meant as a mark of honour could expose the secret that would doom her in this realm.

“The marks may be hidden,” I say slowly, thinking aloud. “If they are of shadow, then shadow can conceal them. When you will it, they should dim.”

Allison glances down, brow furrowed, and focuses. The glow flickers, then fades to the faintest trace—like ink glimpsed through skin.

Her sigh of relief warms the air. “Better.”

Kael whistles low. “Neat trick. Let’s just make that your new full-time setting, yeah?”

“Only when necessary,” I say. “The mark is not shame. It is proof of strength. But until this realm is ready to see it, concealment is... wise.”

Allison nods, still studying the now-bare skin of her arm. “Guess I’ll have to practice not accidentally glowing during class.”

Evander chuckles. “Good luck with that, pet.”

Her laugh fills the small room. I watch her as they speak, the way light still shimmers faintly in her pulse points, the way the shadows cling to her as though they already know who she is becoming. Soon, my world will know it too. And when they do, no law, no throne, no ancient decree will keep me from standing beside her. The Queen of Shadows breathes beside her mates in a world not yet built to hold her. And I, the King who was never meant to love, can only think one thing: Let them come. Because she is mine, and I am hers, and the shadows will kneel before her light.