“Don't talk like that.”
“I mean it. Find me.” Please.
She jerked out a nod and nibbled on her lower lip. I'd kiss her if I thought it wouldn't mess her up even more than I already had. While I adored seeing her falling apart from my touch, I'd never do anything to cause her embarrassment. Her pride meant more to me than my own.
“They'll open the door and announce you, and it'll be like any other day at court. You'll walk down the aisle with your ladies in attendance, except this time, you’ll stop and wait for the highest lord in the court to escort you to me.” Her ladies stood nearby, shifting with the same nervous energy as my bride. “He’ll guide you up onto the dais where you’ll stand in front of your throne, facing the audience. After he returns to stand with our guests, I'll rise, and theelders will come forward, the oldest holding your crown. She's nice.”
“And she has gorgeous hair,” Reyla said with a sly smile.
“Exactly.” I grinned. “It'll be over before you know it. Then we can relax and enjoy our meal.”
“A glass of wine would be nice about now. Sipped courage, but I'd take it.”
“You don't need anything like that. You're strong, Reyla. Brave. There isn't anything you can't do. Remember that.”
“Thank you.” A frown wedged her pretty brow. “For everything. When I agreed to this, I didn't know what I was getting myself into. You know my past, and you know what kind of person my father was. I worried . . .”
“That I'd be the same.”
She shrugged. “It's not like I was given any other example. But you're not like him. You're special. Too perfect, actually.”
“I have flaws. Faults.”
“Show them to me sometime.” Her lips flickered upward, quivering like she still did. “Lay them out for me, and we can discuss them.”
“I will. Promise.” I gave her a quick kiss and waited until she’d nodded to show she was ready. After sending out power again, using all my tricks to ensure nothing threatening lurked, I left her, stepping into the throne room at my announcement.
The atmosphere shifted around me, charged with anticipation. The grand space, adorned with intricate tapestries and polished stone, felt even more impressive today. People of all ranks stood, lining the aisle, their elaborate outfits glimmering like rare jewels in the soft light. Dressed in fabrics of deepemerald, royal blue, and stunning crimson, each of them shimmered with fairy-wrought embroidery.
Silence filled the room as I strode forward, determination in my steps. Not once did I lower my gaze. I studied them all, and each bowing head showed that at least, in this, they gave fealty. None made eye contact; they'd be foolish to be that bold. I swirled my power around, coaxing the ground beneath us to share its secrets, the air to carry any whisper of rage. I even used the threads of their garments to tell me their intentions.
Nothing worrisome so far.
As I moved past them, they lifted their gazes, and I sent water droplets on their mirror mission, reflecting what might be hidden in their eyes. Any flicker of hesitation, any hint of disdain, could be a seed of doubt for Reyla, and I wouldn’t allow it to bloom.
A prickle of unease crept across my senses. Scanning the crowd, I met the gaze of several lords, daring them to test my resolve. They recoiled, my scowl making it clear that today, their loyalty must be unquestioned. They dipped their heads, acknowledging my unspoken command.
Assuming I didn’t love my queen would be a mistake they would not live to regret.
With my chin lifted higher, I climbed the dais. The throne of my forefathers waited, a symbol of our court and the hope of a kingdom. When I reached it, I turned and faced the crowd.
Three elders stood off to the side, dressed in simple red robes, the fine lines on their faces hinting at their wisdom. The eldest’s hair, a vibrant blue, framed a face etched with experience and authority. The crown rested in her hands, hiddeninside a beautiful red box garnished with silver. Evergorne colors.
I sat on my throne, its coolness seeping into my bones. My heart raced just thinking of Reyla, how she would soon sit beside me for the rest of my life. The crown would not make her a queen; her courage, fierce spirit, and her relentless love for justice would. Would she thrive in this role, or would the weight of generations crush her just as it had all those who'd come before her?
My mother had not handled herself well after my father’s death.
Golden light filtered through the high windows, casting a warm glow through the room as I settled in my seat. My mother stood at the front of the rest, her regal presence drawing the attention of almost everyone in the room. She wore a lovely, deep blue gown, and it shimmered with intricate golden designs. She appeared the very essence of nobility, the fabric hugging her shape perfectly, as if woven by the hands of the fates themselves. Jewelry sparkled at her neck and wrists, diamonds, pearls, and opals all interwoven, catching the light and casting rainbows across her glossy dark brown hair that cascaded down her back in elegant waves.
Longing washed over me. I wished I could’ve had a better relationship with her. Words I never said had become birds trapped in my throat. Only once had she hinted at needing my forgiveness for things that hadn't been her fault. If only she knew how deeply I wanted to tell her that she hadn't betrayed anyone.
My gaze locked on hers across the room, and her emotionswashed over me. Her swell of pride mingled with something sharper. Anger radiated from her like the heat of the sun. It was expected. Disappointment must snarl through her heart. She’d craved a daughter-in-law who'd kneel at her feet, a woman who'd let her maintain her queenship without interest in sharing the power. My loud, fierce, wildfire of a woman, Reyla, had burned through that hope, leaving only ashes behind.
How would my mother treat her when all this was settled? I wanted her to be kind, not cold. If she couldn’t see the strength in Reyla, all my bride's fire and courage would be met with harsh judgment. My mother’s hostility could shatter Reyla’s confidence. My wife deserved much more than that.
“High Lady Reyla Jarrn Weldsbane,” the herald intoned, and the room went silent again.
She swept into the room with her head held high. Only I could see the nervousness lurking in her eyes. With her ladies walking proudly behind her, she sedately glided down the aisle, a jewel among a thicket of thorns.
