Ashborn Chapter 18
A month by the sea turns into the one place Veyrakh and Dareya can stop being legends—and simply become each other’s.
We left for the seaside the next morning, just after sunrise, taking to the air before most of the palace had even woken. The wind was sharp and clean, carrying the scent of the sea as Veyrakh’s wings beat against the pale dawn sky. We landed on sun-warmed shores, leaving the weight of crowns and conflict far behind.
The coast welcomed us with warm breezes and the sound of waves breaking on stone. A small seaside estate, empty except for a few discreet staff, became our world for the next month.
There were no titles here. No declarations. No councils or expectations. Just the tide, the sky, and the sacred work of becoming a we.
The chateau was old, built of black stone worn smooth by time and the sea wind. Its flooring smooth and cool beneath our bare feet. The walls smelled of salt and old sea air.
A variety of flowering and nonflowering vines crept along the walls and terraces like something out of a storybook.
We left our windows open at night to listen to the wind, the sea, and the occasional thunderstorm and to allow the breeze to carry in the scent of the sea and the flowers.
The staff anticipated our every need yet left us completely alone. Breakfasts appeared on the sundrenched tables. Warm baths drawn as we walked the cliffs were just the right temperature upon our return. Clean clothes were folded into our drawers.
At night, the cliffs belonged to us.
We walked barefoot under the stars. The rocks still warm from the day’s sun. The spray cool on our cheeks. We wouldn’t talk much on these walks. We had no need to.
Sometimes the bond hummed unexpectedly. An echo of his amusement or the sudden swell of pride he felt. Once, a rush of joy hit me so strongly my knees wobbled. Not mine. His. He caught my hand as if he knew exactly what I’d felt.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “Still learning to keep the door half-closed.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted him to.
Veyrakh would point at a star or constellation and name it in a language older than our world. I’d name it in the name I knew. He never corrected me.
When the tide grew too close or the wind too cold, he’d carry me. Although sometimes I’d refuse. He always looked smug about it either way.
We kissed like we had forever.
A week in, I found the sea cave.
It was hidden behind a curtain of ivy. I nearly lost my footing a few times climbing down and had to hold some tree roots to keep from tumbling over.
I was halfway convinced I’d discovered it on my own, until I turned around. Veyrakh was watching from the ledge above with crossed arms.
“You said you would tell me about the secret caves,” I accused.
He shrugged. “I found it more fun to watch you find it.”
The inside of the cave echoed with the pulse of the waves. A crack in the ceiling allowed sunlight to filter in, casting patterns on the walls like dancing flames. Farther in, pale blue lichen glowed softly, casting ripples of color over Veyrakh’s skin. He looked carved from some ancient myth.
I reached out to touch the glowing stone. It pulsed gently beneath my fingertips, responding to my warmth as though alive.
Behind a narrow ridge of rock, almost hidden, I found a faint carving: a dragon and a woman, standing back-to-back, halos of flame encircling them both. The style was archaic, older than anything I’d seen in the Courts.
“Who made this?” I whispered.
“No one who would have survived to tell the tale,” Veyrakh murmured. Yet he brushed the carving with a tenderness that made my breath catch.
We stayed there all afternoon, wrapped in each other.
Before we left, I tucked a sunfruit blossom into a crack in the stone. Instinct, nothing more. Veyrakh noticed and placed a sliver of obsidian beside it.
“Offerings?” I teased.
“Promises,” he said.
Midway through the month, we visited the village.
Veyrakh had been avoiding it, though he never said as much. But eventually the estate’s fruit ran low, and I had a craving for bread that didn’t taste like it had been conjured by silent staff who never once showed their faces.
“I want to go,” I told him as we watched the sea roll in from the cliffs. “Into the village. With you.”
His brow furrowed. “It’s not safe. If someone were to recognize you…”
“It’s not dangerous,” I countered. “We’re far from the capital. They don’t even know who we are.”
“They might.”
I stood and brushed off my hands. “Then let them.”
He hesitated. Then smiled faintly. “Fine. But if you’re recognized, I’m blaming the braid.”
We walked in just before noon.
The village was a quiet sprawl of stone houses and flowering planters, bright shutters and wide-open doors. Market stalls clustered at the square’s edge, piled high with fish, salt bread, and hand-carved trinkets. For a few blissful hours, there were no titles. No salutes. No one bowed. No one called him “Lord High Warden” or me “Lady Dareya”. Just people. And sunlight. And the rhythm of sea life.
A small child tugged at my braid as we passed a stall selling roasted nuts and whispered, “Are you a cloud-witch?”
I blinked. “A what?”
“She has to be,” the girl’s older brother said. “Her eyes sparkle. Like moonlight in a bottle.”
Veyrakh crouched, eyes serious. “She’s much worse than a cloud-witch.”
The children stared, wide-eyed.
“She’s a fire-thief,” he whispered. “Stole it right from the heart of the mountain.”
Their eyes got even wider. They squealed and ran off, laughing.
“That was cruel,” I said, nudging him.
“That was mercy. You’d have turned their house into a lavender-scented inferno.”
“Flattery will not get you out of carrying my basket.”
He took it from my hands without protest. “It might later.”
We browsed hand-woven shawls and polished shells. I bartered for spices I hadn’t seen in years — dried sunfruit, preserved herbs from the western coast. Veyrakh kept disappearing, then reappearing with sweets I hadn’t asked for and flowers I didn’t need and several sundresses of every color available. He bought me a necklace of smooth, iridescent shell. When he fastened it around my neck, he pressed a kiss to my collarbone and murmured, “Now everyone knows you’re mine.”
“You already did that with the public wedding, you absolute menace.”
“True. But this is shinier.”
I laughed until my cheeks hurt.
We ate lunch on a bench by the water’s edge. Bread. Cheese. Pickled olives. My legs stretched across his lap, his fingers tracing idle lines along my calves. Two old women passed by and smiled approvingly.
“You think they know?” I asked.
“That I’m a dragon lord or that we nearly died a week ago?”
“Either.”
“They know we’re in love. That’s enough.”
I looked away, smiling. The sun was warm on my face. The salt wind caught the edge of my dress. In that moment, I didn’t feel like a warrior or a consort or an Ashborn or a walking headline. I just felt alive.
Days blurred into one in salt air and sunlight — barefoot walks along jagged cliffs, laughter echoing over crashing waves, and evenings wrapped in quiet shadows where only we existed. No expectations. Just the tide, the sky, and the promise of freedom.
On the last evening, we danced.
There was no music, just the hush of waves and the whisper of silk over stone as I twirled in a sundress we’d bartered for in town. Veyrakh leaned against the balcony rail, watching with a look that made my heart hiccup in my chest.
He joined me after a moment. No steps. No choreography. Just swaying, his arms wrapped around me, the sea breathing in and out below.
He rested his chin on my head. “You smell like sun and citrus and salt.”
“You smell like trouble,” I replied, but didn’t pull away.
Then came the morning of departure.
I had donned one of the several sundresses we had purchased during our foray into the nearby village. Barefoot, I padded out onto the balcony to take one last look at the sea before our return home after breakfast. Veyrakh was turning somersaults in the sky. I laughed, merrily. Unguarded.
He pivoted midair, flying straight toward me, and shifting into his visage form as he landed, already trying to slip my dress over my head, grinning wickedly. I laughed and removed his hands.
“Breakfast is getting cold. And we’re supposed to start heading back.”
Veyrakh’s grin deepened. His eyes glinted with mischief.
“I can wait,” he said softly, teasing. “The palace can wait. You? Me? Not so much.”
He touched my cheek tenderly.
I shook my head, smiling. “You are impossible.”
He leaned closer, fingers tenderly brushing my cheek. “Only for you, Vel’shaari.”
The breeze stirred around us, carrying the salt of the air and waves crashing below.
We stepped back into our room.
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