The first day began with my blood pumping fast thanks to the adrenaline from the pearl and the heat burning from Damar’s skin. I was just as horny as a beast in rut, but I couldn’t stay horny for long since by the second day, I was already beginning to feel the life sap out of me.

I passed out a couple of times, but woke up each time to the sensation of my insides getting drilled. Damar was like a machine, never giving himself a break. And taking in two of his weapons, I was barely holding on and counting the hours until it would be over.

Then the third day arrived not with a bang, but with the slow, heavy realization that my limbs felt like they had been replaced by overcooked noodles.

The Sovereign Wing, which had started as an intense connection, now just felt like a very comfortable, very messy cage.

I groaned, burying my face into the pillow. My skin was super sensitive, my hair was a tangled nest, and I was pretty sure I had forgotten what the sun looked like.

"Damar... please," I mumbled into a pillow, my voice a raspy shadow of its former self. "The marking is done. I can feel it. It... It’s finished. Hah! You’ve been claimed, and I’ve been... well, dismantled. Can we just be people who eat bread now?"

A low, vibrating hum rumbled through the mattress—a sound I had heard more than any other over the last seventy-two hours.

Damar shifted beside me, his skin radiating a heat that felt like a furnace. The rut was finally beginning to recede, leaving behind a heavy, post-storm haze. He leaned over me, his silver hair falling like a curtain around us. He looked refreshed, revitalized, and utterly predatory, while I felt like I’d been through a stone-crusher.

"It is beautiful, Ari," he rasped, his voice smooth and dark.

I forced one eye open and looked at him.

There, sprawling in the space between his neck and shoulder, was the mark. It wasn’t just a simple brand; it was an intricate, shimmering pattern of interlocking silver scales and flowing water-lines, pulsing with a faint blue light that matched the crest on my wrist.

It was a map of every late-night conversation, every sacrifice he’d made, and every ounce of love I’d poured into that pearl.

It was a masterpiece. It was also the reason I couldn’t move my legs.

"Great," I croaked, reaching out a shaky hand to trace the new ink on his skin. "It’s a ten out of ten. Now, as your Queen, I am ordering a ceasefire. I need a bath, a gallon of water, and at least four hours where no one touches me."

Damar let out a low, amused hiss, catching my hand and kissing the palm. The feral, glazed look in his emerald eyes had finally been replaced by his usual sharp intelligence, though the possessiveness remained.

"The wolf and the tiger have been very quiet outside the door for the last three days," he remarked, his tail giving a slow, proprietary flick over my ankles. "I suspect they are waiting for their wife to return to them."

"They can wait," I snapped, though there was no heat in it. "If Noah so much as smirks at me, I’m putting him on fence duty for a month. Help me up, you big lizard. I think I’ve forgotten how to walk."

Damar chuckled—a rare, genuine sound—and scooped me up as if I weighed nothing. As he carried me toward the stone bath, I caught a glimpse of us in the polished obsidian mirror.

We looked like a disaster. A beautiful, marked, exhausted disaster.

"Three days," I whispered, leaning my head against his shoulder. "One husband down. Three to go."

"I am the only one who matters today," Damar reminded me, his grip tightening just a fraction.

You mean like you’re the only one who mattered in the last three days, ugh.

"Yes," I sighed, closing my eyes. "But tomorrow, I’m definitely taking a vacation."

After a quick bath—yes, there is a bathroom. What do you think Thalor has been helping me work on since?—and two hours of rest while having Damar feed me the berries that had been kept aside, the door to the Sovereign Wing finally groaned open.

I practically stumbled out, leaning heavily on the doorframe. My legs felt like jelly, and my lower back was sending me formal complaints with every step I took.

I expected to see a chaotic hallway or maybe a group of very impatient males. Instead, I found a scene that made me stop dead in my tracks—mostly because my brain couldn’t process it.

"Raiden? Phina?" I croaked, my voice sounding like I’d swallowed a handful of gravel.

In the middle of the hallway, the babies weren’t just wiggling on blankets. They were moving. Raiden was currently mid-scoot, his little hands slapping the stone floor with terrifying purpose, while Phina was propped up against a low bench, actually trying to pull herself upright.

"Wait, back up," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. "I was gone for three days, not three months! How are they doing this already?"

"It’s in the genes, Little Tiger," Noah’s voice drifted over from the side. He was leaning against a pillar, looking remarkably smug. "They’re ’beast’ babies. It’s normal, though, I guess our genes contributed a lot to their growth." Don’t be smug. "I don’t know how it is in your world, but this is the right development timeline. After all, they’ve got territories to claim."

"Do not include my precious babies in your dangerous games of territory war," I muttered and dropped to my knees—which was a mistake, because ow—and scooped Raiden and Phina into my arms. "My babies! You grew up without me!" I wailed, cuddling them close.

They smelled like goat milk and home, a sharp contrast to the heavy scent of Damar’s possessiveness that was currently radiating off my skin.

But as I pulled them to my chest, a sudden, violent shiver ran through my legs. My muscles gave a treacherous wobble, and I almost tipped over. My body was still vibrating from the intensity of Damar’s rut, and my legs were definitely not ready for the weight of two growing cubs.

"Careful," a soft, familiar voice said.

I looked up, still clutching the kids, and saw Thalor.

He was standing. He wasn’t leaning against a wall for support but was upright, looking stable and remarkably healthy.

The grey tint was gone from his skin, replaced by his usual sun-kissed glow, and his violet eyes were bright and clear. The only sign of the attack was the slight stiffness in how he held his shoulders.

"Thalor!" I breathed, my eyes wide. "You’re... you’re up? How is your back? The poison was potent, and the wound was so deep..."

"It is healing well, Arinya," he said, stepping forward. He reached out a hand to steady me, his touch cool and calming. "The root Damar used... it was potent. And perhaps the sea in my blood is more stubborn than the red-scale venom."

I scanned him from head to toe, still trembling a bit.

"Does it still hurt? Can you move properly?"

He gave me a small, gentle smile, though his gaze drifted to the faint, glowing silver pattern peeking out from the collar of my top. I don’t know how it works, but after my mark was established on Damar, in the very place his mark was on my body, his mark on my neck began to glow.

And that glow had caught Thalor’s attention.

Given he wasn’t saying anything, I suppose this was the right effect.

"I am feeling much better," he murmured, his voice dropping into that melodic tone. "Better still, now that the Sovereign Wing has finally opened its doors. Though..." He paused, his smirk growing a bit wicked in a way that certainly did not suit him. "You look like you’ve been through a hurricane, Arinya. Should I be thanking Damar for my life, or scolding him for what he did to yours?"

"Don’t you dare," I grumbled, leaning into his support as my legs threatened to give out again. "Just... help me to a chair before I become part of the floor decorations."

Thalor chuckled, a low, smooth sound that vibrated with his return to health. He slipped an arm around my waist, providing the steady anchor my traitorous legs couldn’t manage. His skin felt cool—a refreshing contrast to the furnace-like heat I’d been trapped in for seventy-two hours.

"To a chair it is," he murmured, gently guiding me toward the wooden dining set Oryn had finished.

Noah pushed off the pillar, his eyes tracking the way my knees buckled slightly with every step. "You look like a newborn lamb, Little Tiger. Damar really didn’t hold back, did he?" He reached over, taking Raiden from my arms to lighten my load. "I told you the snake wouldn’t stop until he’d had his fill of your spirit. You’re lucky he left you with enough breath to complain."

"Shut up, Noah," I groaned, finally sinking into the chair Thalor pulled out for me. "I’m in no mood for your ’I told you so’s."