Melted away the last of the snow
As the maiden’s life grew to a close
Now forever our nation knows
Of the White Wolf king
And his white rose.
I’d remembered the stricken faces of my friends as I’d carried Emma’s body up the streets of Dolinska, covered in her blood and weeping so hard I couldn’t see straight. Recollections of that night were… foggy. I barely remembered Arthur attempting to wrench Emma out of my arms, or how I’d hit him and clung her to me. I didn’t remember being dragged off by Stefan, or the noises my friends had made when they’d realized…
One thing I did recall, however, was how I’d raged at them the moment Emma’s body had been taken away to be prepared for burial.
“Why, Odette?” I’d choked as evening fell, the moment the battle had ended. “Why’d you let me live?”
She’d stared at me with those big blue eyes of hers and said nothing. The others were similarly wordless.
“You should’vekilledme! Any one of you!” I’d bellowed. I’d pointed violently at Odette, and Theo had stepped in front of me, to shield her from my rage. “You had foreseen it— youknewthat I would cause her death, yet you permitted me to live! Now look what’s been wrought… Emma is gone.”
Odette was barely able to utter, “It was her choice.”
And so it was. I wanted to lay down and die of misery, for I could not bear to live with myself after killing my own mate.
Yet I’d sworn an oath to Malovia. I was still a king, and my people needed me, as broken as this country was. Someone had to step in and set things right again.
I hoped I wouldn’t last long. Another war, an assassination, perhaps, and I’d let them take me. Then this damned country could host another King’s Contest, put another fool on the throne, and he’d be challenged for power by some other greedy soul, and on and on it would go, because the fae were brutal bastards who never learned their lesson. Our sons and daughters would continue to pay the price, and we’d go on to ruin each other until the end of time.
I didn’t want any part in it anymore. I’d had my fill of the game of power, and I had no desire to keep playing.
I just wanted to be with my wife.
A hunkering form sat down beside me. His cloak was dirty, and he smelled of ale. I don’t think he’d put the bottle down since the glass casket had been unveiled.
If anyone’s grief was comparable to mine, it was Lucien’s. He had lost a child. He shifted beside me and said hoarsely, “You should get some rest.”
I hadn’t slept in days, besides catching off moments in the pews during the middle of the night. “I must sit vigil beside her grave. She needs me.”
“Your country needs you. You will need to return to rule, after tomorrow.”
The thought of leaving Emma in the burial chambers underneath the cathedral while I returned to give orders and make decrees was harrowing. I’d promised Emma I’d go on if she died, vowed to make things right in the country even if she wasn’t here, and move on despite the pain of losing her.
That promise had been foolhardy to make, because I didn’t think I could do it. I wanted to crawl into that glass casket with her and suffocate… never to come out. I felt ashamed I was breaking my vow to her, after she’d been so worried about my reaction to her loss, but we hadn’t planned for this. Perhaps there would’ve been a chance I could’ve gone on without her if she had died under different circumstances, but I had been the one that had killed her, and so, the remorse alone was enough to turn my promise into nothing but regret.
I was a coward unable to keep a simple vow to my mate. Another reason to despise myself.
Lucien shifted beside me, and I felt urged to speak.
“I’m sorry.” I’d said it a million times to him since that day.
“It’s not your fault.”
He’d said that a million times, too. I didn’t know if either of us believed it, but by some miracle, Lucien still loved me. He didn’t hold me accountable for Emma’s end.
I wished he did. A father’s revenge would be a welcome release from this cursed existence.
Evonna had refused to return to Malovia with the twins since she’d heard the news. She was more or less in denial. She’d truly believed that Emma would not die.
We all had, I supposed. Each of us thought we’d find a way around the prophecy.
