Zael nodded, agreeing in sober contemplation. “And you still have the alliance. If the colony wants it.”
From within Haroth’s dark-skinned face, his pale green eyes flicked from Brynne to Zael. “None of this changes the council’s condition on the alliance with the Order. What Brynne did here today is admirable—we are all in her debt—but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s Breed.”
he soul-deep relief that they had both come through the fight intact.
Together.
“Oh, Zael,” she gasped against his parted lips. “I was so scared.”
“I know, love.” He kissed her again and again, as if he couldn’t bear to stop. “It’s okay now. It’s all over.”
Brynne’s relief was so overwhelming, she didn’t realize they were no longer alone in the chamber.
Not until she felt Zael’s pulse spike with renewed alarm.
They broke their kiss, both of them glancing toward the smashed, open door of the room where several Atlantean elders and a dozen or more colony inhabitants now stood.
At the front of the group were Elyon’s sentry comrades. No longer unarmed as they had been when Brynne and Zael first arrived at the island, but each holding a long blade like the gore-streaked one that Brynne still grasped absently at her side.
Every person standing there looked at Brynne and Zael in accusation.
In silent, horrified condemnation.
~ ~ ~
“Put the crystal down, Zael.” Baramael’s dual-colored eyes were narrowed on him in a lethal glower as he ground out the command. “Tell your woman to drop the blade.”
“It’s not what you think.”
He knew what it looked like—the most respected of the elders and one of the colony’s trusted sentries, both beheaded and lying in growing pools of blood. Him standing there, holding the crystal in one hand while his other hand held tenderly onto Brynne, whose own fingers were wrapped around the grip of a gore-streaked Atlantean sword.
“You heard him, Zael.” This threat came from Vaenor, the sentry who had served with Zael and Elyon in the legion. The dark-haired soldier took an aggressive step forward, his blade at the ready. “Put the crystal down.”
“Not until you hear me out, all of you.”
Zael let go of Brynne only so he could cautiously reposition himself in front of her, in case anyone rushed to any worse conclusions about what they were seeing there now.
Because as stricken as their expressions were as they registered the scene of carnage near their feet, it hardly compared to the shock he saw written on every Atlantean’s face as they tried to get a closer look at Brynne.
She was fully transformed, as she had been the night he’d found her in that Georgetown alley.
Her fangs were enormous, her eyes heated orbs of molten amber. Every inch of her pale skin was now covered in a tangle of dermaglyphs. Even her face bore the Ancient skin markings, all of them seething with dark colors. Zael didn’t need to glance at her hand where it curved loosely around the grip of the Atlantean blade to know that the tips of her fingers were crowned in sharp black talons.
She was uniquely Brynne.
Formidable.
Glorious.
He had never felt so proud to be standing with her.
Nor more in love.
“Holy shit,” someone whispered from within the stunned crowd.