Per tradition, I wouldn’t see her again until she strode the royal blue carpet toward me, waiting for her by our thrones. An icy chill wrenched my spine from the separation. What if she were nervous? I wanted to calm her. What if she was scared? I wanted to rid her ofanypossible fears. Instead, I continued tocheck my white over-jacket, plucking any exposed stray threads from the golden filigree embroidery. Faux fur draped over each of my shoulders, and the shirt beneath was sewn from the same lake’s frozen waters, trapped with magic and starlight.
My assistant, Rathal, carried my cloak, its weight already making me dread having it placed on my shoulders. He slung it over my back, and I winced at how heavy it was over my arms.
Groaning, I stretched my back and adjusted the cloak, making it lie evenly across my shoulders. “This godsdamned thing is always so heavy andhot.”
Though once I had my mate’s hand in mine, the heat of it wouldn’t matter as much.
“Sorry, my lord. You can most certainly whip it off for the after-party. Kingly duties and all that.” Rathal shifted some of his short, midnight black hair over one pointed, pale ear. He offered a meager smile, his brown gaze dropping to the cloak to fuss over it some more.
“Oh, can I? Thank you so much for the permission, Rath.” A much-needed chuckle bounced from my throat.
Rathal was one of my best friends, and though he was my assistant, I never saw him as a servant by any means. I told him long ago he didn’t have to stand on ceremony when it was just us. Thankfully, it only took me three times of saying it before he acquiesced. It was the only bit of normalcy I got to experience, and I cherished every moment of it.
Rathal smoothed out my hair on the sides and gave a curt nod. “I’m not sure how much more perfect you can look.”
Slowly swiveling on my heel, I raised a brow at him. “Whoa, what are you after? Complimenting my appearance today? I seem to recall you fearing my head would explode?”
Rathal smirked and turned for a cabinet on the far wall. “Itisa special occasion and one that won’t happen again. Call it a grace.”
Leave it to an old friend to make an excitedly nerve-wracking situation feel more like an average day in the palace. Sweat had already started to bead at the base of my neck and across my forehead. I couldn’t have my mate’s hand in mine soon enough.
Rathal returned, holding my crown in both hands. He raised it to my head, discreetly positioning it and careful not to dishevel my hair in the process. I focused on the giant sapphire mounted at the center, its shape and color like the lake’s portal.
“It’s time, my lord,” Rathal announced, pulling me from my daze. He stood at the open door with his hand folded behind his back.
After taking one final glance at myself in the mirror, the last time I’d see the reflection of a lonely king seemingly doomed to shoulder the burdens alone, I smiled and followed Rathal to the throne room.
More than a hundred fae lined each side of the blue carpet. They chattered and bounced on their heels, repeatedly looking for Sylvie’s entrance. They went silent once Rathal announced my arrival. As I strode through the gauntlet of my people, each curtsied or bowed. On the altar, the queen’s new throne resteddirectlynext to mine.
It was customary for the king to be seated when the queen took the walk toward the altar to be crowned. Fuck sitting. Sylvaria wasn’t just a queen; she was my mate, my life’s breath, and sherescuedme. Standing at the ready for her was the least I could offer.
“Presenting, the Lady Sylvaria,” they announced, and the room went as silent as newly fallen snow.
Sylvie, with Arryn in tow, carrying her train, took her first steps across the blue carpet. Jaws dropped, eyes bulged, and smiles blazed with every person she passed. That amethyst gaze didn’t look at any of them because her focus stayed on me. Her dress was pure white, metallic silver threading weaving treebranches over the cinched bodice and full skirt. A matching faux fur cloak adorned her shoulders.
A wide smile graced Sylvie’s lips once she reached me.
Leaning toward her, I whispered, “You lookresplendent.”
The grin hadn’t faded from her lips. “Such a big word. I’m flattered.”
Smirking, I gestured to her on where to stand at my side. Arryn fixed her train, resting it perfectly, before joining the crowd. Sylvie bowed her head to me, and I immediately rested my knuckle under her chin, stopping her.
“No need for that, Snowflake. You’ll never have to bow to me. You are myequaleven before the crown rests on your head.” I traced my thumb over her jawline, sniffing from the burning sensation in my nose.
Tears built in Sylvie’s eyes, and she yanked one white satin glove off, handing it to Arryn, who scurried to retrieve it. Sylvie took my hand in hers and pressed our palms tightly together. “I’m ready, Jack.”
“This will be quick,” I assured her, kissing the corner of her brow.
Turning to the awaiting crowd, I slid on the proverbial royal mask. “People of Winter, I gathered you all here today for what will become one of the kingdom’s grandest of celebrations.”
Sylvie’s hammering pulse vibrated against our clenched palms.
“The Winter Kingdom, after over a thousand years without, will finally have its long-awaited queen,” I announced, my voice booming from the marble walls.
The crowd roared with whistles, claps, and overwhelming shouts of joy. Sylvie’s cheeks flushed a rosy tint, her throat bobbing as she gulped. I stared at her profile, the pride and determination dancing in her gaze as she surveyed an atrium of fae soon to beherpeople, and my chest ached. Silvercharms decorated each of the top corners of her forewings—two thin silver chains draped from charm to charm like a winged necklace.
Slipping my hand from hers only long enough to grab the scepter and crown resting on her throne, I returned to Sylvie and rested the scepter in her arms. Hiding the crown behind me, I gestured at her. “I present to you, the Lady Sylvaria, whom I not only accept as our reigning Winter Queen, but who has also become my eternal mate.”
