Well. Can’t have that. There’s only so much I can take.

I rise from my perch on a rock and walk toward her. “You’re too tense. You need to relax.”

She whirls to face me. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is my learning curve not steep enough for you? Should I maybe try harder to overcome thousands of years of human nature telling me that jumping off cliffs equals death?” Her chin lifts in a way that makes me want to bite it. “Please, share your centuries of wisdom if you’re such an expert.”

I arch a brow. “If you’d rather figure it out yourself…” I turn as if to leave, counting down in my head.

Three… two… one…

Bryony lunges and seizes a fistful of my shirt, reeling me in until we’re sharing breaths.

“Don’t you dare,” she hisses.

Without taking my eyes off her, I say to Amara, “Let me have a go, will you? I’ll take over training.”

A snort. “You sure you can keep our girl in one piece? Or are you just looking for an excuse to get handsy?”

“It’s adorable that you think I need an excuse.”

She barks a laugh. Then she’s tipping backward in that effortless way of hers, those powdered dark wings snapping out to catch the updraft. She wheels once over our heads before disappearing beyond the jagged peaks of the mountains.

I let my gaze drag over my Chosen, mapping her hurts. The fresh cuts are already healing over. Good. Each day, her healing is swifter as her immortal body settles into itself.

“You’re staring again,” she murmurs.

“Can’t help it.” I brush my knuckles down her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I want to have you flying a tenth of the way to Hellevig next time. Why the hesitation?”

After a long moment, she whispers, “When I’m falling, it’s like dying. I think I’ll wake up, and this will all be a dream. And you’ll be gone.”

Oh, nemesis.

I hold her against me, wrapping my wings around us both. Everything else fades away. All I know is her—warm in my arms where she fits perfectly, her soul brushing mine.

“Feel this?” I breathe against her lips, pressing my palm flat over her chest. “The way your heart matches mine? The heat of my skin?” I graze my mouth across hers, not quite kissing. Just sharing air. “Can you taste me?”

Her lashes flutter. I duck my head and catch her in a proper kiss. As gently as I know how, I explore her soft lips with light grazes and lingering presses. She clutches my shoulders, pulling me closer. I delve deeper, licking into her mouth, swallowing her gasps, tasting how much she wants me.

“What about this?”

Slowly, so slowly, I walk my fingers up her spine, tracing the flex and bunch of new muscle shifting beneath her skin. I skim the downy place where flesh gives way to feathers, and press.

Bryony goes liquid against me, head tipping back on a broken moan. Pleasure pulses through the bond.

“What’s the verdict, nemesis?” I breathe against the hammering pulse in her throat. “Real enough for you?”

She shudders, and I feel it travel the length of her and follow it with my palms. Slowly dragging up the curve of her hips, savoring each ridge and valley.

“Fuck me, please,” she breathes.

“Impress me, and I might.”

She gives me a look. “Since when are you such a tease?”

“Since I need to motivate you to use these wings.” I nip at her lower lip. “Learn to fly, and I’ll show you how immortals fuck in the sky. Agreed?”

“Yes.”

“Very good,” I murmur, satisfaction rumbling in my chest. “Now for your lesson. I know this body still feels foreign, but you have to trust it knows what to do. Let instinct override thought. When the wind shifts, there will be a tug low in your gut. Don’t fight it. Lean into the pull and embrace the fall.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Simple and easy aren’t the same thing.” I press closer until there is no air between us. Until she has no choice but to breathe me in with each inhale. “Do you understand what being Chosen really means? What we are to each other?”

Bryony shakes her head, wordless.

“It means every cell in your body was crafted to complement mine. We’re two pieces of the same whole.” My lips graze her temple. “Your soul already knows the shape of the sky. Now you just need to close your eyes and fall.”

I don’t give her a chance to respond before I launch us off the cliff with a beat of my wings. She grabs my neck, and I hold her tight as we shoot upward. Up, up, past the Osbu Sea, through the clouds, higher than any human’s ever dreamed of flying.

And it’s glorious—this communion of air and excitement. The heat of her against me. I could drown in it, in the drag of her hair whipping across my skin, the salt-sharp scent of her exhilaration.

I slow our climb and level out until we’re soaring over my new territory. Rivers of starlight dot the ground below, and I intend to build a new palace for us right there, where the red roses grow wild on the banks. A reminder of what it meant to nearly lose her once.

“We’ll start with gliding,” I tell her.

I take Bryony’s hand and gently guide it back until her fingers brush the leading edge of her wing. “Feel that? The way your coverts blend into your scapulars? How the marginal coverts give way to secondary flight feathers?”

She nods.

“Good. Focus on that. Your body knows what to do.” I press a kiss to her jaw, savoring the way she shivers against me. “And trust that I’ll catch you if you need catching.”

“I do. I trust you,” she whispers. “Always.”

Always. Not just for today, but for always. Something swells in my chest—raw and tender and too large for my body.

I let go.

She stops fighting the fall. Surrenders to the wind and…

Spreads her wings.

It happens slowly. A story measured in increments as instinct and new muscle memory war with panic. But inch by agonizing inch, those glorious feathers unfurl and catch the current.

And then she’s soaring, wings spread wide, and a swell of pride and possession bursts through me.

My Chosen.

I pull up beside her and reach for her hand, threading our fingers together. She startles at my touch. I watch her nearly falter, wingtips dipping too low. I’m already lunging, ready to capture her back against me.

Hold, I remind myself. Not yet. Catch her only when she needs catching.

She recovers and rights herself in a beat of white and gilt feathers, throwing me a look of such fierce triumph that I’m breathless with wanting her.

Bryony’s face is incandescent with joy. “I’m flying.”

She is. Gloriously and inelegantly, with no art or artifice. But flying, nonetheless.

“What now?” she calls. Giddy with the thrill of it. “What next?”

I grin at her. “Everything.”

I will never tire of chasing Bryony Devaliant across the sky. Of falling with her and for her, again, and again, and again.

Until the realms are ash and memory.

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GLOSSARY

Accords:

The peace treaty brokered by the Devaliant family three hundred years ago to end the war between gods and humans.

Anchors:

Individuals on both sides of the Shroud who maintain and hold the magical barrier in place. The Devaliants are the Anchors in Hellevig, and one of their bloodline must always remain in the city, or the veil will fall.

Asteria:

Alexios’ territory in Scillari.

Celestials:

The primordial gods who came from the stars and created the realms.

Chosen:

The soulbonded spouse of a god.

Claim: