Fight for him. Yes. She could fight for him. His mother had made him believe that no one could want him. But she could show him that she would never want anyone, or anything, else.
“And,” Nim continued softly, “if you can’t forgive him or he doesn’t fix this, just remember that we are all with you. Whatever happens with Mathos, you are not alone.”
Gods. She wasn’t alone. The knowledge settled lightly into her heart, and as it did, so did a sudden understanding—she hadneverbeen alone. She had always been surrounded by her people.
Yes, she had been lonely, and likely would be again. But she had always had a purpose, she had only needed to realize it. She could do this. She could be the queen she was meant to be.
She straightened her spine and watched the first golden tendrils on the horizon slowly spreading into a magnificent peach-and-honey-colored dawn.
Gray light filtered over the sea, and in the distance behind them, she picked out two ships. One just ahead of the other as they danced forward, racing for the estuary.
The sun rose fully into the sky, and in the first rays of morning light, she saw a glorious white flag rising on the main mast of theStar of the Sea, adorned with a golden outline of an angel bearing a fiery sword.
A roar of recognition went up from the ship behind them, and voices shouted. Although their words were lost in the distance and over the sea, she heard the high-pitched warble of the bosun’s whistle.
Ahead of her, she saw that they had nearly arrived at a small cove. Slow minutes passed as they curved around a rocky outcropping and the ships were lost to sight. There was a loud boom, and she saw Tristan’s jaw clench as his scales shimmered in rippling waves. Gods. It physically hurt to know that the warriors on theStarwere fighting—Matt was fighting—for her. So that she could be queen.
The men on oars pulled heavily, and soon they were crunching onto the sandy shore and then piling out of the boat. Tor and Tristan pulled it high onto the beach, and they all worked quickly to dump piles of sand and salty, half-rotten seaweed over the boat, hiding it.
The sun had been over the horizon for less than an hour when Ramiel led them over the sand and then up a narrow track over the dunes. The dense tufts of spiky marram grass brushed at her legs, and her feet sank into the soft sand as the seagulls screeched overhead, but her thoughts were over the rough sea, desperate to know what was happening.
She stumbled on an old piece of driftwood, righting herself just before Tor reached her. After that, she kept her head down and focused.One thing at a time. First the crown.
They reached a hard track that allowed them to spread out and shift into an easy jog. Even Keely ran—despite still looking pale and wan—with Tor running beside her, watching her carefully. Although neither of them acknowledged the other.
A few weeks before, Lucilla would have struggled, but not anymore. The ground disappeared beneath her feet as she focused on her breathing and did her best not to constantly imagine every horrific thing that could be happening to Matt and all the people they’d left behind on theStar.
It was midmorning when they crested a low hill and looked down to see the city spread out in front of them. It was vast; a massive array of people and buildings flanking the huge gray Tamasa river as it flowed down to the estuary and the sea.
She stared across the waters of the wide river mouth as they ran. Out in the distance, two ships sailed too close together. There were still two. Thank the gods. What was happening out there? They were too far away to see their colors, and she had no way to know.
She focused on running, placing each foot ahead of the other, and whispered a prayer to the gods in time with her footsteps;let them be safe, let them be safe.
“Your Majesty?” Tristan drew her attention as they all pulled to a dusty, panting stop. “We’re here.”
She looked up to see a sprawling gray stone building not far from the road, and they followed Ramiel to a heavy wooden door that opened at his touch.
Ramiel rang a small bell just inside the door, and within minutes there was a bustle of activity. Men and women with hair in shades from flaming red to deep auburn, all wearing white tunics, brought jugs of cold, clear water while the Nephilim spoke quietly, and Lucilla waited impatiently.
She, Nim, and Keely were led to a spacious waiting room with comfortable-looking seats covered in green cushions and a window overlooking a courtyard with a small fountain.
Nephilim acolytes followed them in carrying bowls of warm water and washcloths, as well as trays of bread, cheese, and shining red apples. They took turns to wash their hands and faces and then all three of them began eating hungrily. Even Keely, who looked significantly better after a few slices of cheese and apple.
A short while later, a young woman arrived carrying a set of sumptuous-looking gowns in velvets and silks. There were deep blues and shimmering greens, even a buttery yellow. And among them was a heavy burgundy velvet dress shot through with strands of gold.
The acolyte dropped a stilted curtsey. “I hope these help, Your Majesty. They’re the best we’ve got.”
“They’re beautiful, thank you.” She gave the young woman a reassuring smile as she dropped another curtsey and left them to change.
Lucilla walked over and ran her fingers down the rich wine-red fabric. It was slightly too short for her, but otherwise, it was perfect. Burgundy and gold. She would go to her throne dressed in the colors of Matt’s scales, in recognition of everything he’d given her. Everything he meant to her.
“And this,” Nim said quietly, handing her the heavy folded fabric that Alanna had given her, and Tristan had insisted on carrying to the temple.
Lucilla took the folded bundle and shook it out, her breath catching as she realized what it was.
A banner. Deep midnight blue and beautifully embroidered in silver—with two fighting boars locked in battle.
Alanna, who had been so badly hurt by Ballanor and Geraint, had given her their family’s crest. How many hours had she spent creating this gorgeous display of heraldry?
