“This year will be better,” I pronounced, hoping that the Fates would hear me and make it so.

“I already made my wish,” Rokath mumbled.

I craned my neck to look up at him, finding his burgundy eyes swirling with a mix of emotion. “Are you going to tell me what it was?”

“No,” he said, looking forward again. “You wouldn’t understand.”

I scoffed and squeezed his ribs as punishment. “Why tell me you made one then?”

“For that reaction right there.” He met my gaze once again. This time, his expression was full of smug amusement.

I rolled my eyes. “Well I haven’t chosen mine yet.”

Rokath released his hold on me. Spine protesting, I straightened. “Go ahead and do it now. Then we’ll tell each other.”

“Okay but no spying in my mind.” I wagged my finger at him, then rolled out my shoulders and faced the moon.

But as I sat there, sifting through all my desires, I found it difficult to discern which I wanted to come true the most.

The end of the war, yes, but what if wishing for that caused us to lose?

Continuing progress with solidifying the female’s place in the army? That seemed too weak even though it was a mighty goal.

That Rokath and I’s love would never end? Yet that was already true, simply because we were fated, woven, planned to be together for now and in all the lives to come.

There were a dozen things I could wish for others. But for the new year, we were supposed to be selfish. Supposed to set ourselves up for the next four seasons.

Glory wasn’t important. Infamy bloomed like a Bordova rose in the summer. But what did I crave in the quiet of the night? When I let myself believe anything was possible?

Freedom.

The word emerged like a fabled sea monster from the depths of the abyss. Yet it was what I’d always truly wanted. I had some now, far more than ever before. But I wasn’t rid of the shackles that held me back.

The trauma of my marriage to Vagach. The oppression of our society and how it had silenced me. The fear of my magic being discovered and what would happen to me once it was. More and more layers of all the ways I’d had to hide, had to survive, had to protect my heart from loss after loss.

Even now, I held back with many I wanted closer simply because I didn’t want that acute ache to tatter my soul even more. Death was the reality of war, after all.

Rokath had suffered too, but his was different than mine. He’s always been free. Powerful. Esteemed. Feared.

I stared at the heavens, tugging on the stars as if I could command the Fates to look down upon me. And then, I spoke to our deities.

“Weaver, Giver, Reaper, I wish for freedom to embrace my power without limits. To continue to find the strength to survive, even to thrive, as I claim the destiny woven for me. To not harden against the horrors to come, even though the losses will be difficult. May this year bring further healing, love, and the courage to reclaim everything that was taken from me.”

Closing my eyes, I allowed the feeling to fill me to the brim. When I was close to exploding with it, I let it go, sending it out into the world and hoping it would return to me.

“This was mine,” Rokath spoke into my mind, letting the memory of the moment flood me.

“Weaver, Giver, Reaper, give me the strength and wisdom to protect those I love. Ensure no further harm comes to the mate you blessed me with. Let victory and peace come to our realm at last.”

His emotions consumed me too—the vastness of his devotion, the terror of my potential absence, the craving for peace. I understood everything he desired. Because more than anything, I wanted him to live beyond the war too, so that we could carve a slice of serenity far away from conflict and strife.

I crawled into his lap, and he enveloped me. A spicy, masculine scent called me home. His muscles flexed as he dragged me closer, nearly robbing me of air. “You’re my reason for fighting, Assyria. You’re the reason I begged the Fates for the end.” He spoke the words like a haunted, desperate prayer.

“This will be our year.” I grabbed his forearms and squeezed, gently rocking in his hold.

He planted a kiss on the side of my neck. “Let’s go back to bed. I’m ready to sleep now.” His hot breath ghosted across my ear, and his hardness grew and dug into my backside.

“Only after you beg for my forgiveness for listening in on my thoughts when I told you not to,” I breathed, nails digging into his skin.

A soft laugh huffed against my shoulder. “That is not how this works.” In one smooth motion, Rokath lifted us off the ground and threw me over his shoulder.

A giggle escaped me as I smacked his back. “Put me down!”

“Never. I’ll never let you go, little imposter.” Wings sprouted, and with gentle ease he flew us to the base of the building. At the doors to the weapons storage, two soldiers jolted into pristine posture, startled by our sudden appearance.

“At ease,” Rokath told them. “And get lost.”

“Yes, sir,” they said, saluting us before racing away. I shot them a devious smile as he flung one of the doors open and then set me on my feet inside. With more force than necessary, he slammed it closed.

The barest of fires flickered in the hearth, but it was more than enough to witness the dark expression on my mate’s face. With a hungry, predatory gaze, he devoured every inch of me. I took a step back as he approached, kept going as his pace quickened. My knees buckled, and then I was sitting.

A glance behind me told me it was the chair Rokath had built for me.

Rokath braced his hands on the arms, towering over me with a wicked glint in his eye. “Once these clothes are off you, I’m going to start our new year off right. Between your thighs. On this throne. When the war is over, you will sit beside me and accept their surrender with the ultimate fuck you right in their faces.”

My breath hitched as my center wept.

Rokath’s bone chair, like mine, was meant to intimidate. Meant to break the Angels before they even knelt. But tonight, we’d imbue mine with a different kind of power.

“Now start unlacing that top so I can worship the damning body the Fates gave you.”

He shoved off, taking the heat of him away. Instead of obeying, I uttered two words that always yanked on his animalistic instincts.

“Make me.”

His nostrils flared, along with divine dark desire down our bond. Then, his lips curved into a sinful smirk. “Oh, little imposter, I will.”

Ice shattered through my veins as his magic swept out of him like an inferno, binding me to the throne of bones. He twisted his fingers, directing tendrils to tug at the laces while others slipped beneath my clothes and caressed my bare skin. Another wrapped around my throat, cutting off the tiniest sip of air.

Strands brushed against my core. A whimper escaped me at the kiss of them between my thighs.

“Do you want to bow to my will now?” he crooned, curling his fingers into his palm. His magic did the same against my center.

“Never,” I swore, knowing I was pushing his limits. But the fire that sparked inside me, filling my core to the brim, told me it was more than worth it. I loved nothing more than this battle with him.

He came closer, crouching so his knees were level with mine. I stared into those riotous burgundy eyes, the swirl of challenge and domination in them making me drip. “You said I should beg for your forgiveness for spying on you. I think you should beg for my forgiveness for disobeying a direct order.”

Planting a hand on either one of my legs, he spread them wider. His shadows pooled around my core, continuing to stroke there. The ache was madness, yet I could do nothing to stop it. He was giving me just enough to fan the flames of my desire without dousing them completely.