I did, and he wove the ribbon back around the hole, sealing me back inside again. It was still itchy and now I had a semi from his fiddling. I glared at him all over again and gave myself a scratch.
Flurry chuckled like a little devil and sashayed over to the door.
I got back into the corner, making sure my feet fit into the footprints in the snow just right. I had to hold the crown on as I picked up the staff—it did feel like ice,but there was no forgetting what it was. By the time Delyse came back in, I was standing there with the staff pointing ahead of me and my hand on my hip.
“Oh, a crown,” she said with delight. “That’s a very nice touch.”
I closed my eyes for a second and gulped.
“You’re going to need to stop grimacing and blushing, though. Milo?”
I cleared my throat. “Might need a few minutes for that. Maybe work on my feet or something?”
She laughed a little and went behind her canvas.
I spent the next couple of hours trying not to think about what was on my head.
Chapter 13
Two weeks later, a small crowd of people gathered in the throne room so Lord Badru could reveal the shield-shaped plaque his team of craftspeople had created to remember Private Wynn’s sacrifice.
Flurry had decided to hang the plaque on the wall just to the right of his throne because that was where Wynn had been standing that day. The placement also meant that everyone facing the prince would see it forever.
I stood beside Flurry as some of those who’d served with Wynn spoke about him. I heard them, but I wasn’t really listening as I focused on Flurry. He’d insisted that he felt more accepting about what had happened, but didn’t think the guilt would ever leave him completely. I couldn’t help keeping a hand on his lower back now, just beneath his wings which had been out all day.
“He’d have been so proud of this, Your Highness,” Mister Wynn said as he stood in front of Flurry. “He wasalways dedicated to protecting the court and everyone in it.”
Flurry nodded, his wings fluttering for a moment. “We will remember him always.”
Everyone headed outside, where we were going to announce the contest for the sculpture to remember all those who had died due to the curse. I had Flurry stay back with me, though. When they had all gone out, and I nodded at the two guards to close the huge throne room doors, I turned to Flurry and his frowny face.
“Fly around,” I said and waved at the room.
“Excuse me?”
“Your wings have been out all day. You’re obviously feeling a lot of emotions. Maybe you even want to run away. So use the space and the little bit of time that we have to work out that energy.”
I made a buzzing noise at him, which was probably the wrong thing to do considering how much deeper his frown got. But before I could apologize, Flurry huffed a laugh and looked away with a roll of his eyes.
“You’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
He flew around the room, though. Like, seriously zoomed in giant figure-eights around the four massive pillars. He wore leggings and a fur-trimmed tunic with a cape that flapped behind him. After a few minutes, he came to a halt in front of me, panting like he’d been running.
I knew he wasn’t going to thank me or confirm that it had been a good idea, so I stole a kiss before offering him my arm to guide him outside.
The crowd cheered when he came into view on the palace steps. He waved, and the cheering increased. I hoped that helped him feel better about this day because it was clear that his people loved him even if he didn’t think he deserved that.
Someone handed Giselle a shiny silver megaphone, and after a nod from Flurry, she spoke to the crowd.
“Under the prince’s direction, Lord Lennon and I have directed our artists to craft a sculpture of Private Archibald Wynn, who recently gave his life to save Prince Flurris. This sculpture will represent all those soldiers lost to war over the years, their names carved into the base so none shall ever be forgotten.”
The crowd politely clapped, and I couldn’t help wondering how many of them had lost a soldier to the wars over the years. Were they glad the barriers had stopped all the violence?
“The prince has also asked us,” Giselle continued, “to create a sculpture to remember those lost to the curse. Rather than design this ourselves, we would like to open the design process to all of you. Submit your ideas to me within the next month, and we will select the winner. The final sculpture will be placed here, in front of the fountain.”
The clapping was less this time, with a few people in the crowd openly crying. I gasped when I realized one of them was Lars, the dungeon master. He gruffly wiped away a tear before loudly clapping, which got another round of applause out of those nearest him. I discretely waved to him, remembering our time together with an odd fondness, and got a nod from him in return.
