Lark spotted me lingering in the entryway. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a bundle of dark curls at the nape, and her greeneyes sparkled with kind curiosity. Though she looked like her mother, all of her mannerisms were less sharpened, less cutting.
More El.
She’d spent a great deal of time with her aunt.
“King Mattock,” she greeted and rose to approach me. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Princess,” I returned.
“Using the main entryway today?” she teased.
I stifled a smile and nodded.
She looked over her shoulder. “I am going to need to apologize in advance...”
“For what exact—”
From the top of the stairway, Sybilla called, “Emmerick, is that you?” Her voice carried ghosts of a past life.
“For that,” Lark explained with a wince. “I had to tell them—they would have killed me otherwise. But I waited until this morning to give you some time.”
In a thick wool dress, Sybilla descended the steps quickly. Behind her, Krait trailed, much less eagerly.
Before I could reply or even get a good look at her, my oldest friend threw her arms around me and squeezed the breath from my lungs.
“You’re awake!” Sybilla squealed into my chest.
Krait reached the bottom step, and when my gaze met his over his wife’s head, his jaw tightened, but there was a hint of softness in his eyes as he stiffly said, “Welcome back, King Mattock.”
It took Sybilla all of five minutes to shoo her new family away.
I supposed they were onlynewto me.
Krait had given her a lethal glare before leaving us to speak in private. Apparently, I was not to be let off the hook for kissing his wife, even in the absence of my free will.
Sunlight leaked in from the row of windows across from her desk. Only now could I fully take in how she’d changed. Silver strung into her curls, and the lines around her eyes were deeper—she was still as breathtaking as I remembered. Once, I’d desired to hold her anytime we were alone. To my relief, I felt no such urge.
She sat down behind the desk. After shuffling through two drawers, she pulled out a long parchment; it looked like a contract.
Leave it to Sybilla to get straight to business.
“I need your signature here, and here,” she said.
I’d signed over my rule of the North Corridor to Sybilla and Krait before the curse was cast; the exchange of power was always meant to be temporary.
“This relinquishes my and Krait’s reign of the North Corridor back to you. We will need to coordinate an announcement and recrown you. Krait and I already signed it with a witness.”
Elsedora Lamoreaux.
The document was dated five years ago. Her looping signature was right there beside Sybilla’s and Krait’s. Along with signing her name, she’d drawn a tiny picture of the sun.
My lips turned up at the sides to imagine her scribbling the illustration.
“Syb, can we slow down? Take a moment to catch up?” I asked.
Still standing, I placed my palms on the desk, which put her in my shadow. She hadn’t even given me a chance to sit. When Sybilla gazed up at me, she shook her head. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Why talk now? We could have for years...”
