Thornhill Academy. Chapter 90

**Rhaziel**

Her hand is so small in mine. So warm. So impossibly perfect. The moment her fingers curl around mine, everything in me goes still: the shadows, the hum of the walls, the restless murmurs of the realm itself. Even the nightmares that usually slither and breathe through these halls hold their breath. Her touch hums through every inch of my body, vibrating through marrow and magic, until it settles somewhere deep beneath my ribs, in that strange, mortal place they call a heart. I’ve held a thousand blades, torn through armies, shattered worlds. My hands were made for power, not softness. But hers… hers fit against mine like something crafted by the Fates themselves. Her pulse flutters against my palm, quick and wild, and the thought crashes into me all at once: *she’s frightened, and she reached for me.* Her instinct, her first thought, was to seek her mate. Me. The sensation that floods me then is... unbearable in its sweetness. A burn in my chest, light and molten. She’s still looking at the doors, trembling faintly, unaware that every fibre of my being has become aware of her. The sound of her breathing. The scent of her fear and defiance mingled. The way her magic flickers against mine like a hesitant spark searching for home.

My fingers twitch, the demon in me wants to grip, to claim, to hold her tighter, but I force myself to move slowly. Carefully. I curl my claws around her delicate hand, letting the edges of my power wrap around her skin. My palm almost swallows hers whole. I could crush it so easily. The thought makes my chest ache. I never want to. My queen. My little hummingbird. She doesn’t yet understand what that single, terrified gesture means. But I do. The Fates didn’t just bind us; they reminded me what it means to feel. Her power flutters beneath her skin where our hands meet. My runes flare in response, unbidden, burning brighter along my forearm until the light dances up my chest. She notices, I can tell by the way her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away. For a creature who commands shadows, I have never felt so illuminated.

And then—A throat clears. Loud, awkward and utterly intrusive. The sound cuts through my reverie like a blade. I blink once, dragging my gaze from our hands, reluctantly and painfully, to find one of my soldiers at the front of the group. He’s kneeling, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, but his unease radiates like heat.

“My King,” he says, voice trembling slightly. “Forgive the interruption. We—uh—we didn’t know you had… company.”

I feel the growl rise in my throat before I can stop it. The hall darkens; torches dim. Ten of my finest, bowing low, trying not to breathe too loudly in my presence and all I can think about is how their interruption has stolen this moment from me. I force my jaw to unclench and look down again at the hand still nestled in mine. Her pulse flutters faster, but she’s still holding on.

“Company,” I echo, my voice dropping to a purr that makes the soldiers flinch. “You call your Queen company?”

Ten heads bow lower. Her head jerks toward me at the word *Queen*, eyes wide and bewildered. But I only smile, my thumb tracing the soft ridge of her knuckles. Let them tremble. Let them kneel. Let the realm itself quake. All that matters right now is this tiny, trembling hand in mine, and the way it feels like light in a world made entirely of shadow.

The soldier’s eyes go round as moonstones the moment my words sink in. His tail all but tucks between his legs as he stammers, “My—My Queen— I beg forgiveness! I did not realise— I hadn’t known you’d— that you’d found her.”

He drops lower, his forehead nearly kissing the marble. “My deepest congratulations, Your Majesty. To have found our Queen is— it is an honour beyond—”

And then she giggles. A soft, human sound. Light and effervescent. It cuts through the heavy air like sunlight through smoke. I snap my head toward her, towards the cutest thing I've ever heard. She’s laughing and I have no idea why, but I am utterly in love with that sound. The corners of her lips curl, her eyes sparkling with something that feels suspiciously like mischief. I am utterly unmade by it. My runes warm in response, glowing faintly across my arms and chest.

She notices me staring, and her expression softens. “Sorry,” she says, waving her free hand as if to brush away the formality hanging thick in the air. “Can we not do the whole bowing thing? It’s so dramatic.”

Ah. So my Queen doesn’t like bowing. Noted. Etched into eternity.

“Stand,” I command, and my voice fills the chamber, low and resonant. The soldiers jerk upright at once, armour clinking as they scramble to obey. They keep their eyes firmly downcast. I glance back at her to see if this pleases her, to see if I’ve done well, but she’s smiling again. That small, knowing smile that both steadies and shatters me.

She tilts her head, mischief playing in her tone. “Are they allowed to look up, my King?”

The way she says *my King,* it’s teasing, it’s playful, it’s pure danger. My tail flicks behind me, the tip twitching once before curling possessively.

“They are allowed to do whatever you would like them to, my Queen.”

And then she does the unthinkable, she lets go of my hand. The warmth leaves instantly. The shadows stir in protest, sensing my displeasure. My palm feels… wrong without hers. Empty. I stare down at it for a moment, utterly still, as if my body can’t quite comprehend that it’s alone again.

She turns to the soldiers, completely unaware of the small chaos she’s caused in me. “Can everyone look up, please?” she says brightly. “It’s a bit odd to meet someone without seeing their eyes.”

Every demon in the room hesitates. Their gazes flicker uncertainly between us, between their King and the girl who just gave an order with a smile and a 'please'.

I find myself smiling too, because she doesn’t even know it yet, but this girl already commands the darkness better than I ever could. And the shadows, traitorous as ever, already love her for it. Now if she would just give me back that hand of hers...