Her emerald eyes stare into mine. They’re even more fucking beautiful than I remember. She squeezes my hand, looking me over as if she’s trying to discern reality from a dream.
Where has she been? Did the nightmares that plague her follow her there? Have the past weeks been torture for her? I tread slowly, praying that I’m wrong.
“This is real, Ivy. I’m here. You’re safe.”
“Marks is …” she starts.
“Dead,” I finish. “You did it. You killed him. You saved us.”
“How long?” She doesn’t have to finish the question. I know exactly what she’s asking.
“Eighteen days.” My voice breaks again at the sight of tears filling her eyes as realization sinks in. “But they haven’t voted yet. I wouldn’t let them.”
“Cal …” Ivy starts again with an unsteady voice. “I’ve been in the Under Realm.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold—” Theo’s voice carries as he enters the room, his sentence halting abruptly at the sight of a conscious Ivy sitting up in bed. “Holy gods.”
My youngest brother moves around the edge of the bed, laying his hand on her shoulder to affirm that she isn’t a mirage. “You’re awake. You’re really fucking awake.”
“Yes she is,” Quinn says in a level voice that I’m not sure how she manages. “Go back in there and demand another hour. The Governor of the Emerald Region will be attending the Ascension Vote.”
“She just woke up.” My voice comes out in a near growl. Those godsdamned animals have been chomping at the bit to vote for days. They owe their lives to Ivy and they can’t even wait for her. “Give her time to?—”
“I want to be there.” Ivy’s voice is feeble, but there’s a fierce determination in her eyes. “I need to finish this.”
“An hour, Theo. Go.”
My brother jumps like a dog at Quinn’s command. I haven’t left Ivy’s side long enough to investigate what’s going on between them, but it’s evident that something has taken root. She’s gotten comfortable ordering everyone around, always making sure that Ivy and I had anything we could need.
Never once doubting that her best friend would be attending the vote, she even ordered a dressmaker to custom create gowns for Ivy to wear. Four gowns in various styles and colors to allow her to choose what statement to make. Quinn understands Ivy deeply, in a way that I will spend eternity trying to replicate.
“Captain.” It’s my turn to be on the receiving end of Quinn’s orders now. “Give Ivy a kiss, go take a bath, and, for the gods’ sake, please shave what’s growing on your face.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Yes. You. Are.” Quinn tugs my arm, forcing me to face her. “Look at me. You’ve barely left this room for weeks. You have done your part and now it’s my turn.”
She easily reads the torn expression on my face and adds, “I’ve got her.”
“Hey.” Ivy caresses my forearm, her cadence perfectly matching her gentle strokes. “I’ll see you in there, okay?”
Reluctantly, I do as Quinn commands. I kiss Ivy’s forehead delicately, reverently, as if she might split into a thousand tiny pieces if I grab ahold of her face and kiss her the way I desperately want to.
“One hour and not a second more,” I promise.
It feels unnatural to leave her when I’ve just gotten her back. The walk to my brothers’ rooms to clean up is a blur. My body goes through the motions, muscle memory guiding me through bathing and shaving. The only thought that echoes through my mind is her name on repeat:Ivy. Ivy. Ivy.
There’s a gray and gold uniform in my size laid out on the bed, one final offering from Henry. One last chance to take the position that is mine by right. But I’m even more resolved in my decision today than I was the day I made it.
The position of Lord General is better suited for an ambitious man, not one who has already found everything he’s been searching for. My place is at Ivy’s side, not at some war room table or on a battlefield without her. I serve no ruler but her.
I dress in a suit of solid black, feeling more like a jester than a soldier without the comforting embrace of my leather armor. Marks’ men cut it from my body, and while there’s an armory full of pieces I could seek out, I don’t. The menacing presence of the Captain of Corinth is not needed. Today, I take a page from my beloved’s book and choose to make a different sort of statement.
Theo, the secret romantic that he is, managed to gather Ivy’s magically-grown godsbane blooms from the throne room and has been keeping them alive. I pluck the largest bloom from the vase on the dressing table and secure it to my lapel with a gold pin—a tiny emerald encrusted sword. If there is any question as to where my loyalty lies, these touches will make it abundantly clear.
I can feel the tension before I step foot into the council room. It radiates from the empty chair at the head of the rectangular table, the large amethyst embedded in the carved back sparkling in the light from the obnoxiously large chandelier. Each chair has a similar, smaller, jewel indicating the region its occupant represents.
The governors don’t try to hide their disappointment when they see me enter the room. Sapphire, Ruby, and Topaz are present, but Emerald is not. She hasn’t arrived yet, and her hour is up.
