Imogen let out another breathless, shaky laugh. “Alright, then. Let’s… save our race, I guess.”

  Axel gave a low, amused whistle. “I like her already.”Darius let out a light chuckle, a bit of the tension easing from his face. “Let’s head to the village. The elder is probably waiting anxiously, especially after everything that happened with my mother and not hearing a word from us.”

  Imogen tilted her head slightly, falling into step beside him. “Elder?” she echoed. “Will he… will he have a better idea of who I am? Or how I can help in this war?”

  Darius nodded as they began walking toward the hidden village, the trees parting just enough to reveal the faintest outline of a concealed path. “If anyone can help, it’s Elder Oliver. He’s been around a long time since even before my grandfather’s reign. He’s wise, careful… and he’s been hoping for a sign of you for years.”

  Axel let out a low whistle beside them, smirking. “Excited" is probably an understatement. You’re about to be the most famous face in the village.”

  Imogen huffed softly, nerves flickering in her chest. “Great. No pressure, huh?”

  Darius gave her a sidelong glance, his eyes softening. “You can always let me know if it gets overwhelming,” he murmured. “I’ll be right there.”

  Imogen gave him a small, crooked smile, some of her old spark shining through despite the fear gnawing at her edges. “Thanks, Dragon King. I might actually take you up on that.”

  Axel chuckled ahead of them. “Careful, Darius. I think she’s already getting used to bossing you around.”

  Darius snorted under his breath, a fondness in his eyes as they walked. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” The forest path wound quietly ahead of them, the air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. Shafts of fading light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the trail as the three of them moved steadily toward the hidden village.

  Imogen tugged her arms around herself, eyes flicking between Darius and Axel as they walked. She chewed her bottom lip, fighting the swirl of nerves in her chest.

  “So…” she said hesitantly, glancing up at Darius. “This village… how many people are we talking about? Like, dozens? Hundreds?”

  Darius gave her a faint, amused smile. “Small but strong. Less than a hundred. Mostly dragon kin and their families. A few trusted humans, but not many. They’ve been hiding a long time.”

  Axel let out a soft snort beside them. “You’ll like them, I think. Well, most of them. Old Jarett will probably grumble about your human blood, but don’t mind him. He’s been a cranky bastard since before I was born.”

  Imogen raised her eyebrows. “Oh, great. Grumpy old dragon neighbors. Can’t wait.”

  Darius let out a quiet chuckle. “Elder Oliver will balance him out. He’s patient. Gentle, when he needs to be. But smart. He’s the one who kept the village alive when the old kingdom fell.”

  Imogen frowned slightly, glancing down at the dirt path beneath her feet. “And they’ll all… know who I am?”

  Darius’s voice softened. “They’ve been waiting for you longer than you can imagine.”

  She exhaled shakily, hugging herself a little tighter. “I don’t know if I’m ready to meet a whole village of people who’ve been waiting for me to fix everything.”

  Axel gave her a sideways grin. “Don’t worry you’re better than you think you are. And honestly, they’re just excited to finally have hope again.”

  Imogen gave a faint, shaky laugh. “Yeah, no pressure at all.” She peeked up at Darius. “What about you? Were you one of those little dragon kids running around the village when you were younger?”

  Darius’s mouth tugged into a wry smile. “No. I grew up away from them at the royal stronghold, before it fell. I only came back to the village after my mother’s death.”

  Darius gave a small shake of his head, his eyes drifting toward the horizon, where the royal stronghold stood weathered and broken, its jagged towers catching the pale morning light.

  “It used to be magnificent,” he said quietly. “Tall towers carved from obsidian and granite. Magic woven into every stone. My mother said the castle used to sing.”

  He exhaled, slow. “But the humans gutted most of it during the raid. The eastern wing collapsed, the great hall was torn apart… There’s ash in the cracks that still bleeds when it rains.”

  Imogen’s eyes fell on the ruins of the stronghold, the remains still magnificent to her.

  “I’ve been focused on the village first,” he added. “They needed shelter. Food. Protection. The stronghold can wait.”

  He glanced back toward the hillside below, where sunlight had begun to warm the rooftops of the village. “Stone chimneys are still smoking from breakfast fires. Cloth-draped stalls unfolding for the day. You can hear the blacksmith before you see him. It’s not grand, but it’s alive. And it’s growing back.”

  He looked down at her again, something unguarded flickering in his gaze. “It’s just stone. They’re what matter.”

  Imogen’s gaze softened, and she reached out briefly to brush her fingers against his. “Sorry.”

  Darius gave a faint shake of his head, his eyes warm. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

  Axel snorted again from ahead. “Careful, you two, you're making me feel single.”

  Imogen let out a startled laugh, and for just a moment, the heavy knot in her chest loosened. She still didn’t know if she was ready to face what waited ahead but maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to face it alone.The forest trail narrowed as they walked, winding deeper through ancient trees whose branches arched overhead like a living cathedral. Imogen stayed close to Darius’s side, every now and then brushing his arm by accident, only to quickly glance away, her cheeks warm.

  “So…” she began softly, breaking the silence, “what’s it like? The village?”

  Darius tilted his head thoughtfully. “Peaceful. Hidden. It’s not grand, one half destroyed castle, no tall towers. Just sturdy houses, old pathways, gardens carved out between the trees. It’s home.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Axel, striding a few steps ahead, called back over his shoulder, “Old Bram works through the night sometimes you can’t miss the hammering.”

  Imogen smiled faintly, hugging her arms tighter around herself again. “It sounds… small. And good.”

  Darius gave her a sideways glance, his eyes warm. “It is good. It’s a place we’ve fought hard to protect.”

  Imogen drew a shaky breath, her voice softening. “I don’t know if I’m what they were hoping for.”

  Darius slowed slightly, touching her arm just gently. “You’re more than they could have dreamed of, Imogen.” His mouth curved in a small, quiet smile. “And don’t worry you don’t have to win everyone over today. Just… let them see you.”

  She gave a wry little laugh. “So no big speeches yet?”Axel grinned back at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Nah, save the rousing speeches for your guys’ wedding day.”

  Imogen choked on her next breath, nearly tripping over her own feet. “What?”

  Axel barked out a laugh. “Oh, come on like the whole village won't already be thinking about it?”

  Darius let out a low groan beside her, rubbing a hand across his face, but the faint flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

  Imogen’s mouth gaped for a second, then let out a shaky, half-hysterical laugh, throwing her hands up. “I don’t even know how to hold this together, and you’re talking about a wedding?!”

  Axel winked at her. “Hey, gotta plan ahead.”

  Darius muttered under his breath, “Ignore him.” But there was a small, helpless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  Imogen huffed, trying to steady her racing heart, and shot a playful glare at both of them. “You two are ridiculous.” Axel just winked at her.

  For a few more steps, the tension between them lightened, the quiet banter softening the heavy weight pressing on her chest. She found herself smiling despite the panic simmering just below the surface.

  But as the trees began to thin and the faint scent of woodsmoke drifted on the breeze, the laughter slowly faded.

  Imogen’s heart thudded harder. She could hear it now the muted clang of a forge hammer, the quiet murmur of voices, the soft creak of wooden carts.As they neared the edge of the village, the easy teasing faded. The scent of woodsmoke hung on the air, and ahead, shapes moved, villagers glancing up sharply, halting their work, eyes narrowing and widening as they spotted the figures emerging from the trees.

  Imogen felt her chest tighten, nerves swirling fast. But beside her, Darius straightened, his broad shoulders squared, his eyes sharp and commanding as they swept over the village.

  The shift was subtle but undeniable: the easy, quiet man who had walked beside her became the king of his people.

  The villagers reacted the moment they saw him, backs straightened, whispers rippled, some even lowered their heads in quick nods of respect as Darius passed. His armor gleamed faintly under the fading light, and the air around him seemed to hum with steady, unshakable strength.

  Axel, still grinning, stepped slightly behind Darius’s right shoulder, the position of a second-in-command.

  Imogen swallowed hard, glancing sideways at the man she’d been leaning on for comfort only moments ago, now seeing him through the villagers’ eyes: their king, their last hope, the one they’d followed through battle after battle. As they crossed the last few steps into the village square, Imogen’s nerves nearly strangled her. She could feel dozens of eyes watching, the murmurs curling through the air like smoke.

  She found herself instinctively leaning just slightly toward Darius.

  To her surprise, he didn’t shift away, didn’t stiffen like she expected from someone so cold and commanding in the eyes of his people. No, Darius shifted closer, his body naturally angling protectively toward her, one hand resting lightly at the small of her back. The warmth of his touch seeped into her skin, steadying her heart even as her head spun.

  Elder Oliver, standing calmly at the village’s center, observed the two of them quietly, sharp eyes missing nothing.

  Darius inclined his head respectfully. “Elder Oliver.” His voice was low, strong, the voice of a king measured and sure.

  “Your majesty,” Oliver returned smoothly, giving a small, formal bow. His gaze flicked and stayed on Imogen, noting the subtle closeness, the way Darius’s hand lingered protectively at her back, the way Imogen leaned into his strength without even realizing.

  Oliver’s sharp eyes crinkled faintly at the corners, a small, knowing smile tugging at his mouth. “I see,” he murmured softly, more to himself than anyone else.

  Imogen blinked, heart pounding. “See… what?”

  Elder Oliver’s gaze lifted fully to her, his smile deepening into something warm, almost reverent. “The bond.” He nodded slightly, voice low and certain. “You are his mate.”

  Imogen’s breath caught sharply, her cheeks flushing as she glanced up at Darius who didn’t deny it, didn’t even flinch. His hand stayed steady at her back, his eyes calm but fierce, his presence solid beside her like an unspoken vow.

  “I uh-” Imogen stammered softly, her voice shaking.

  Oliver bowed slightly, a flicker of true respect in his eyes. “Then welcome home, my queen.”

  Around them, the murmuring crowd quieted, heads bowing one by one as the weight of the elder’s words settled over the square.

  Imogen’s heart raced, her hands trembling faintly but even as panic surged up her throat, Darius’s hand remained at her back, firm and grounding, his presence a silent promise: you’re not alone.

  For the first time, Imogen stood before them not just as a frightened girl, but as the fated mate of their king and the queen they had been waiting for.The crowd slowly began to disperse, the murmurs fading as villagers slipped back to their homes, still casting curious glances over their shoulders. A few bowed respectfully to Darius before retreating, others offered quick, awed looks toward Imogen, whispering softly to one another as they went.

  Imogen let out a shaky breath, sagging slightly as the weight of so many eyes lifted off her. She rubbed her arms, her heart still pounding as if it hadn’t quite caught up with everything that had just happened.

  Elder Oliver waited patiently, his sharp, kind eyes fixed on her with the calm of someone who had weathered many storms.

  Darius turned to the elder. “We need to speak. Privately.”

  Oliver nodded smoothly, his expression shifting from formal elder to old friend. “Follow me.”

  He led them to a small, quiet house at the edge of the village, simple, but well-built, the walls lined with old books, worn maps, and the scent of herbs drifting softly from somewhere inside.

  Once the door closed behind them, Oliver let out a long, quiet breath and turned fully to face them, studying Imogen intently.

  “She’s stronger than she thinks,” the elder murmured, almost to Darius.

  Imogen crossed her arms, still hugging herself. “Everyone keeps saying that, but no one’s told me how.” Her voice cracked faintly, a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

  Oliver’s smile was gentle but edged with understanding. “It’s not something you can hear, child. It’s something you’ll have to find and you’ll only find it by facing what’s ahead, not running from it.”

  Imogen let out a short, unsteady laugh, glancing nervously at Darius. “Is that how you handle all your new queens? Just… throw them in and see if they swim?”

  Darius huffed softly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re doing better than you think.”

  Oliver stepped closer, his gaze sharp but kind. “Do you understand, Imogen, what it means to be his mate? This isn’t just some title or accident of fate. The bond between you is sacred, ancient. It is the root of why you survived this long. And it will be the root of why our people survive what’s coming.”

  Imogen swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I don’t know if I can be what you need.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What any of you need.”

  Darius’s voice was low and sure beside her. “You don’t have to be perfect.” His eyes softened. “You just have to stand with me.”

  Imogen glanced up at him, her breath hitching slightly.

  Oliver’s smile deepened. “Then, my queen, you’ve already begun.”