He had fallen for Eislyn.
Reyna twisted her hands together in her lap. Eislyn clearly felt the same about him. In fact, Reyna was not certain she had ever seen her sister blush until now. Did she love him?
The music built to a crescendo, and suddenly, the door behind the throne swung wide. Thane strode through, clad in refined coronation garb. He wore a long tunic in gold brocade, and a full matching cape that had been fastened by ornate golden clasps, the sigil embossed onto the surface. He strode forward in tall leather boots, his head free of a crown for once. His long golden hair shone, and his ornate tattoo seemed to swirl across his forehead as he moved.
He was the picture of royalty, chin high, eyes firm and unyielding. The entire court fell into a hush. No one dared speak.
Thane knelt at the feet of the druid. It would be the only time that the High King would ever kneel before anyone but his god.
The Elder Druid smiled down at Thane. He was a contrast to the new High King. He wore the standard uniform of the druids, a simple brown leather robe that wrapped around his entire body. He had no hair atop his head, nor did he wear the sigil of any kingdom. His loyalty was to the Dagda and the Dagda only. Instead, he wore a simple silver necklace on a string of leather. It held the Dagda’s symbol—a maze of squares.
“Thane Selkirk, of the Air Court. Son of Sloane Selkirk and Imogen Selkirk. Father of none. You stand before the fae of your kingdom, to confirm your place on the Seat of Power. The Dagda has judged you worthy. Your court has judged you strong. Arise and take your place as the High King of this ancient realm.”
He placed the golden crown on the High King’s head. And Thane stood. The entire court watched in awe as he strode to the throne, stood before it, and lowered himself onto the Seat of Power. Everyone gasped as he sat tall and grasped the twisting vine arms. Power hummed beneath Reyna’s feet, and then cheers filled the air.
Reyna forced herself to smile along. This was the day she had been waiting for, but it had not happened as all as she had hoped. A new High King sat on the Air Court’s throne, ready to rule over two kingdoms, one that would become his as soon as he married Eislyn.
Her stomach twisted, unease churning through her. Could she let go of her vengeance? Could she watch him marry her sister and claim the ice fae realm as his?
Thane rose and vanished through the door from whence he’d come. While Thane made his prayers to the Dagda, the rest of the court would file out of the room and head to the Banquet Hall, a smaller version of the Great Hall reserved specifically for coronation and wedding feasts. And then the true celebration would begin.
* * *
The feasting went on for hours. Day quickly became night as chalices were refilled ten times over. The quiet buzz of conversation rose into a crescendo of clinking mugs, laughter, music, and general good cheer. As the night wore on, Reyna began to relax. She gazed around the Banquet Hall packed full of tables, noting all of the happy, smiling faces.
Perhaps the Air Court wasn’t as terrible as she’d once thought.
Her eyes drifted toward Thane, who sat at the head table with his mother. There were two empty seats beside him. Reyna frowned. Thane’s father, Sloane, and his uncle, Lord Bowen, had not attended either the coronation or the feast.
It was very odd.
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, and Lorcan leaned down to whisper into her ear. His hot breath tickled her skin. “Careful. You’re beginning to look like you’re actually enjoying yourself.”
She scowled up at him. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?”
“Our High King wanted me to keep an eye on you. He was worried you’d see the boisterous, lively feast as a fantastic opportunity to hunt down assassins again. I didn’t argue. I thought he might be right.”
“Honestly,” she said, rolling her eyes.
The majestic doors of the Banquet Hall swung wide and two servants carried in yet another platter of food set beneath a curving silver cloche. Reyna groaned and placed a hand on her full belly. She’d had her fill. There had been warm, soft breads and peacock pie, big jugs of ale and mead, and plates piled high with red apples and pears. They’d eaten juicy spit-roasted pig with crunchy crackling and chunks of salty boar. Sweet pastries had been abundant with golden, flaky crusts. Potatoes drenched in butter and carrots drizzled in sweet honey. And, in the very center of the Banquet Hall, stood a sotiltees, a sugar sculpture carved into a golden crown.
She couldn’t bear to eat another bite. However, she would happily have another chalice of rowan berry wine.
Lorcan frowned and straightened up as he watched the servants approach Thane. “That’s odd.”
“What is?” she asked, glancing up at him.
“I do not recognize those two.”
Unease churned in Reyna’s belly as she turned to take in the two servants. They wore very basic garb. Faded brown tunics and trousers. Most of the other servants had worn nicer attire for the celebration.
The two servants reached the head table and pulled the cloche off the platter. And a severed boar’s head was placed before the High King, dripping in fresh blood.
The entire hall fell deadly silent. Reyna’s heart thundered. A boar’s head could only mean one thing. Someone wanted Thane dead. But who? She glanced around. Surely not his mother. Imogen was certainly angry that her son had challenged her claim. Reyna knew she was wicked, cruel, cunning, and rash. Was she that terrible that she would have her own son murdered on his coronation day?
Imogen tossed back her chair as she stood, her trembling finger pointing at the corpse’s head. “What is the meaning of this? Who dares defile our High King?”
So, not his mother then. That kind of terror could not be false.
