Shock crawls through me at that declaration, but I quickly slam a wall down to block it all out. This isn’t the time or place, and I can’t afford distractions right now.
The aisle feels never-ending, but I pretend I’m a link in a chain, one that’s being pulled into the depths of the sea at the behest of an anchor—and that anchor is the king. I hope I’ve read him right. I hope he’ll keep his end of the deal. He clearly has a vested interest in my relationship with his son, and even if the Matron can’t break the curse, I think the king might help me track down someone who can. After all, as soon as I’m officially mated to his son, my strength becomes the Crown’s strength. They’ll want to figure out how to break this curse too. If for no other reason than their own interests.
I approach the end of the aisle and note that the king looks even more formidable in the light of day. His suit is pure white with ivory embroidered flames on his pants and suit jacket. The cape he’s wearing today is draped over one arm of his throne so it can spill down the steps of the dais in an impressive display. It looks like it’s made of the same white fire he conjured in his office to trap me, and my forearm tingles at the sight of it.
Butterflies flit in and out of my line of sight, and finally I find myself standing at the foot of the regal dais. I’m supposed to either bow now or curtsy, then the king will Name me and offer my clan the opportunity to claim me. Once that’s done, the party, the dancing, and the gossiping can start. However, I don’t bend the knee or genuflect in any way. I simply stand and stare up at Kathal Noctis, my face blank and my spine stiff and unyielding.
I did point out to the king last night that I haven’t sworn fealty to him. He waved it off like it wasn’t important, but that was his mistake. I don’t bow for just any man, and without a sworn vow, Kathal Noctis is notmyking.
A rustle of unease ripples through the crowd when it becomes clear that I’m going off script. I watch the king, waiting for a flash of impatience or a flicker of indignation, but just like last night, my defiance doesn’t anger him. In fact, he almost looks proud of it.
I hitch an eyebrow and offer the monarch a look that saysyour move.
He has every right to burn me to a crisp where I stand, or punish me in any other way he sees fit. But I’m hoping he’ll simply carry on with this ancient tradition that hails from a time when clans lived solitary lives in distant territories and only came together to celebrate the coming of age of their young.
Kathal Noctis rises from his throne, and I swear he looks even bigger than he did in his office. The sides of my face prickle from the intensity of both Aeson’s and Lorn’s stares, but I keep my attention rooted to their father. Only an idiot would look away from the biggest threat in the room.
“Today, we celebrate. A great treasure, once thought lost to us, has been found,” King Noctis declares, his voice moving through the massive room like a surging tidal wave. “A gift, a miracle, a token of hope has made her way…home.”
I want to be annoyed by the king’s flair for dramatics, but I’m unexpectedly touched by his choice of words. I know they’re meant to hook and entice the crowd, but they burrow and bury themselves inside of me like they’re awaiting the day that I might truly become all those things.
“My people,” the king commands, and it feels as though The Horde all collectively hold their breath. “Sixty-two years ago, our enemies moved against us, and we lost not only our king and the royal family, but we lost the Syphons too. Today, at this unprecedented Naming, I come before you to decree that notallis lost.”
With measured, confident strides, King Noctis descends the steps of the dais until he’s standing in front of me. He cups my face and looks down at me with so much warmth and acceptance that it sets me adrift. I don’t trust it, but I also can’t ignore the pieces of me that really want to.
“I Name you Ever Tenebrae, daughter of King Merik Tenebrae, and the last Syphon.”
The astonishment that pulses through the crowd makes the hair on my arms rise in warning. King Noctis bends to kiss my forehead, the gesture reminiscent of a Sovereign pressing their royal crest into the malleable wax seal of their latest decree. It dawns on me that my butterflies should be attacking him. He’s well within the two-foot parameter they were set to guard, and yet they’re still drifting around me like they haven’t detected a breach.
Maybe Karis found a way to turn them off after all.
By the time the king straightens, the eerie silence in the room has been shattered by gasps, cries, and a steady thrum of startled murmurs.
I stare up into King Noctis’s blue eyes as he drops his hands from my face and grasps my shoulders.
“Are you ready for what comes next?” he asks me quietly, and I’m surprised that he would give me one last chance to back out of our deal.
But as much as I want to run, my missing Flight has forced my hand. If there’s any chance of saving them, we need to be whole. The Syphons are broken, and if I have to sell myself to the enemy to fix them, my life is a small price to pay.
I may be nothing more than a pawn to them, but even a pawn can check a king in the right circumstances.
I nod. “I’m ready.”
His smile is genuine, and his eyes are alight with that same warm pride that makes my throat get tight. The king turns me until I’m looking out at a sea of faces all belonging to The Horde. He keeps his hands on my shoulders and waits for the room to once again grow silent. The nobles collect themselves much faster than I would have thought possible.
“And who claims Ever Tenebrae, the last Syphon, and the daughter of King Merik Tenebrae?” The king continues like he didn’t just drop a bomb and isn’t getting ready to drop another.
“I do.”
Aeson’s voice rings out loud and clear, and I don’t need to look to know that he’s rising from his throne and moving down the dais toward me. Swallowing hard, I finally lift my gaze to look at him.
His suit is pitch black velvet that’s trimmed in gold. Embroidered flames decorate the lapels of his jacket, his shoulders, the sides of his pants, and the cuffs of his sleeves. The thread used for the flames glints and changes color from gold to amber to orange as Aeson moves and the filaments catch the light. He’s clean shaven and devastatingly handsome, but the harsh look on his face instantly makes me wish I’d stayed strong and kept my eyes away.
The butterflies around me are calm as can be, but I can’t say the same for the rioting kaleidoscope in my stomach when I look at the commander’s face and see it void of all emotion. He joins me at the bottom of the dais, but he doesn’t close the distance between us. I have a feeling it’s not because of the security feature on my dress.
“Do you claim her as clan, kith, or kindred, Scion Noctis?” the king proudly asks his son.
“I, Aeson Noctis, claim Ever Tenebrae as my mate,” he answers smoothly, and I wonder if they rehearsed this.
