“You’re my everything now, you fool,” he said simply, so nonchalantly that for a second I thought I hadn’t heard him right. “Can’t you see that?”

I blinked. “What?”

Sarkin scrubbed his hand over his face. He looked tired, I realized. The first time I’d ever really seen him this tired. Worn.

“I felt fear today that I haven’t felt—ever,” he confessed, those eyes burning into mine as the words dripped from his tongue. “Seeing you on that ledge, I was faced with the possibility that I couldn’t save you if something went wrong.”

“But I⁠—”

“No, now it’s my turn,” he rasped. I bit my tongue. “You scared me today, Klara. Scared me to the point that I was confronted with a reality in which I could lose you. And that frightened me. More than anything ever has.”

My heart went fluttery and heavy all at once. “Really?”

“I felt so fucking helpless,” he said gruffly, raking his hand through his tousled hair. “This morning, I realized that you’ve somehow managed to steal this cold, shriveled thing I call my heart…just like you stole my Elthika, you little thief.”

I thought it inappropriate to smile, but he sounded so damned grumpy about it that I couldn’t help the small one that slipped.

“Really?” I whispered, my eyes going watery.

Sarkin closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. I watched them shift beneath his lids, going back and forth, and I reached forward to place my other hand on the center of his chest. To my surprise, his heart was rapid, a pounding drum beneath my palm.

“Zaridan would do whatever you asked of her,” he finally said. His eyes flashed open to regard me. “And I would too.”

A bloom of realization, soft and gentle, spread like warmth from a fire. Something I’d only ever dared to wish for.

“You love me,” I declared.

He inclined his head. “On Muron, I do. I love you, aralye.”

I grinned, feeling like sparks of joy were sizzling in every vein of my body. Sarkin might never be the type of male to express exactly what he felt. He was a Sarrothian, after all. A king. He could be brooding and detached, internalizing many of his emotions—out of necessity and stemming from his old wounds. But he could also be passionate and sensually bold. Cutting yet charming. They were all the facets that made him who he was, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

“I love you too,” I breathed, smiling though my vision blurred, “in case it wasn’t completely obvious.”

I reached up to wind my arms around his neck. He was comforting and warm, a solid presence against me and an unyielding pillar of support. How could I not have fallen in love with him?

He breathed in deeply, embracing me back.

“I should’ve listened to you, Klara,” he said softly. “When you told me about Lygath.”

I pulled back so I could meet his eyes. “Please know this, Sarkin. I would have never risked my life, knowing how you would feel, if I believed Lygath would reject me again. I wouldn’t do that to you. I was as certain about him as I am about you.”

“How did you know?” he asked.

“I found Lygath in my dreams. Early this morning. He was in the meadow where we watched the starfall. I think he might’ve seen us there, that night. I think he called me to him, leading me there, like a beacon.”

“You can dream walk,” he said. There was a prick of awe in his tone.

I swallowed. “It’s possible. My ancestor, Vienne…she could speak to others in her dreams, even if they were dead. She saw things. It’s possible part of her gift is now mine, passed down through bloodlines.”

“And what happened with Lygath?”

“I just talked to him,” I said. “He was so…lonely. He’s not vengeful or full of rage. He’s sad. He felt the bond though. He started to give me his sy’asha. I knew what I had to do after you told me about your father. I was never going to rest until I could be seen as an equal in your horde’s eyes. And Lygath gave me that gift of a bond. He’d already made his choice when he came to Tharken. So, you see, I was never in any danger.”

He brought his forehead to mine. “Never sneak away like that again, Klara. Please. I should’ve listened to you, yes. You felt you couldn’t tell me what you needed to do, and I will forever feel the guilt of that. But from now on, we never hide anything from each other. Lysi?”

I didn’t like that he felt guilty, but I knew that he wouldn’t hear otherwise. And so, I nodded against him. I pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Lysi,” I whispered in agreement. “That I can promise you.”

His relief was palpable.

“Sarkin?” I murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Lo rune tei’ri,” I said, meeting his eyes, seeing all the strings of different colors in them. Greens and golds and browns. My heart was beating out of its chest as I grinned. “It means I am yours in Dakkari.”

He started to chuckle, the sound like a reward in itself, but then an Elthika swooped low overhead, a loud roar shaking the forest, making us part.

Sarkin frowned up at the canopy.

“A rider?” I asked, turning to track the dragon. It was a glittering deep red in color, unlike any I’d ever seen even after the illa’rosh.

“A Karath. From Grym,” Sarkin corrected. “That’s Samryn, his Elthika.”

“Another Karath?” I breathed.

“Likely here to congratulate you, my Sorrina. It’s not every illa’rosh a Vyrin is claimed,” he said. And it made everything in me sing to hear that small thread of quiet pride in his voice, despite his complicated history with Lygath. “Come. We should return to meet him. Oh, and Klara?”

“Yes?”

“Lo rune tei’ri,” he repeated, brushing his lips against the sensitive shell of my ear as he whispered the words. A shiver raced down my spine. He sealed his words with a kiss at my temple.

I thought my face would crack apart with my smile as he took my hand. I made sure all my clothing was in place before we ventured from the forest. I was acutely aware that I still had Sarkin’s release inside me and that we both looked a little worse for wear. But it couldn’t be helped.

And I was too deliriously happy to care.

When we emerged from the forest long moments later, I saw the red Elthika—blood red, human-blood red—perched on the landing space. He was even bigger than Zaridan, and I couldn’t help but notice that the Sarrothian kept their distance even though the Karath appeared to have come alone. I couldn’t see him from this angle, for his Elthika’s head was shielding him from view, but when Sarkin pulled me forward, I saw him sitting on dragonback, waiting.

I only got the impression that he was an imposing figure, spying a flash of silvery-gray hair before he was sliding off his Elthika, landing onto the stone in a crouch before rising.

Then he approached, and I felt the rake of his gaze over me, sizing me up. Perhaps he’d never seen a Dakkari before, unless he’d been one of the Karaths on patrol in our homeland.

My first impression had been correct—he was imposing. He appeared only slightly older than Sarkin, and he sported a silver scar that almost matched his hair, curving down his sharp jaw and onto his neck. Human hair silvered and grayed like that with age, but he wasn’t physically old by any means—though the glint in his eyes belied a soul that struck me as ancient.

Eyes that were piercing blue, like the glow of a powerful heartstone.

He stopped in front of me, and I had to crane my neck to look up at him.

“Sorrina,” he murmured in greeting. “I have come to pay the respects of the Gryms as we congratulate you on your claiming of Lygath.” The edge of one lip curled, and he never took his eyes off me, despite Sarkin edging forward. “You must be a fearsome creature to claim such a Vyrin, Klara Dirak’zar.”