Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 109

Thornhill Academy.

The Queen Of Shadows.

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 1 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.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify