Dauphine rolled her eyes. “As if you need it.”
They didn’t, but Aidon loved any opportunity to tease Dauphine about how he’d stolen the wolf’s heart. She’d been his constant companion in the aftermath of the battle, but he hadn’t expected her to return home with him. He didn’t know of an Athatis who had ever left the continent.
But then Aster had shown up at his door last night, her head held high as she stared at him with clear expectation.
It was said Athatis never took another bonded. But Aidon didn’t know how else to describe the way he’d known in that moment that wherever he was going, Aster was coming, too.
He certainly wasn’t going to turn heraway.
He smiled at the Athatis now, his hand scratching that place between her eyes she loved so much. She leaned into his touch for a moment before she jogged off, likely to find a spot to lounge in the sun.
It was strange, suddenly being stagnant at sea. Of course, there was training to participate in, which Aleissande was all too willing to lead. And there were long nights staying up with his family, talking with his parents about all that had transpired in their time apart.
There were even later evenings with Dauphine, his lips getting acquainted with every freckle on her body. Later evenings, and early mornings, and even midday. They were keen to enjoy the rare time they’d been given, unencumbered with duties and wars and politics.
The time passed slowly, but all too quickly as well, long stretches turning into short snaps until suddenly, three weeks had gone by and Aidon was standing at the rail of the ship, gazing upon the rainbow that made up Rinnia.
“Do you see that?” Josie asked from his side. She leaned over the ship’s rail, her eyes squinting to take in the beach. “Are those…people?”
Aidon’s stomach swooped. Aleissande was at his side in an instant, a telescope in hand. Her brows drew together as she looked toward the sand.
“My gods,” she breathed.
“What?” Aidon asked, his fingers reaching for his blade. But Aleissande stilled him, a small smile on her face.
“See for yourself, Your Majesty,” she said, offering him the scope.
Aidon peered through it, his heart hammering in his chest. It took his eye a minute to focus, to sort the buildings from the crowd standing on the beach.
It was not the rebel force—it was no force at all.
It was his people, their arms waving green banners with a golden ship.
Trahir’s flag.
Aidon swallowed against the lump in his throat, emotion swelling inside of him. They were cheering, welcoming their final ship home.
Aidon’s hands began to tremble, and they did not stop, not as he boarded the skiff that would take him to shore, nor as he stepped off onto the sand, Dauphine by his side, Aster trailing behind him.
The noise of his people was deafening—cheers and shouts and praise, a chorus of joy and pride echoing across the crescent moon beach.
A woman broke from the crowd, her long hair tied back in a bun. Her features were familiar in a way he couldn’t quite place, not until she was just in front him.
“You’re Vera’s mother,” Aidon said. The last time he’d seen her, it had been cradling her young Incend daughter, who had been killed when the Bellare tried to assassinate him in retribution for Avis’s sentencing.
The woman smiled up at him, grief still clearly carved in the lines around her mouth. She held out her hands, and Aidon’s gaze drifted down to the golden crown between them.
“My daughter was proud to call you her friend,” the woman said, her voice thick with emotion. “And I am proud to call you my king. As are we all.”
Aidon’s fingers tingled as he reached for the crown. Slowly, he placed it on his head.
“Long live King Aidon of Trahir!” the woman shouted, and the crowd roared their approval, their response so loud,Aidon wondered if it traveled beyond Rinnia and to the edges of their lands.
“Long live King Aidon of Trahir!”
78
Aya was well acquainted with grief. It came in waves, some small enough that she could manage without a break in her routine, others so large she thought she wouldn’t survive them.
