52. Merrick
52
MERRICK
I 'd never forget how stunningly beautiful my bride was right now, especially in her silver gown etched with red fairy threads. The color suited her, enhancing the red gold in her hair and making her skin glow like the finest cream. She was the centerpiece rather than the gown, which had been my intention when I described it to the fairies who crafted it.
I'd love to run my fingers through her hair and see it spilling across my pillows. Soon. Her promise still clung to my mouth and simmered through my bones.
As we left her suite with our guards, I used power to gather water droplets from the air, forming tiny mirrors to float ahead and behind us, providing visual surveillance from multiple angles. I wouldn’t and couldn’t trust even our guards or my wards to protect us.
Reyla didn’t appear to notice. She held herself straight and regal, as if she'd been crowned already. She was born for this moment, even though she hadn't grown up knowing she’d one day sit on a gilded throne and rule.
As we moved from one level to the next, I infused tiny wind currents with magic, urging them to carry any threatening sound to me, but I didn’t hear anything other than those shifting with impatience in the throne room and staff bustling here and there, preparing for the upcoming events.
We paused at the top of the last set of stairs, and her eyes locked on mine. A feeble warmth rose in them, and I slid my arm around her waist, tugging her near.
“It'll be over before you know it,” I whispered in her ear.
“Will I wear my crown all evening?” Her husky laugh rang out. “I should've asked all the questions bouncing around inside me earlier, not when it's about to happen.”
I turned her in my arms and cupped her face in my palms. “We have all the time you need. Ask away.”
“They'll be mad if they have to wait.”
“Let them fume,” I growled. “One snarl from me will put a stop to their unjust agitation.” After waving for her ladies and some of our guards to continue to the foyer, I led Reyla to a small settee and we sat, her gingerly on the edge to protect her dress.
I manipulated light around us, using it to project mirrorlike images of her and I descending the stairs, strolling beside the balcony, and even pausing at the top of the stairs. All designed to confuse someone who meant us harm.
“You'll only wear the crown for a short time after it’s placed on your head,” I said. “After that, you’ll wear it during formal occasions. The rest of the time, you'll wear a smaller version like the one I wear during court in the throne room.”
“Why aren't you wearing yours now?”
“It slides around on my head, and I hate it. Would you believe it fell off my head the first time I wore it?”
Her eyes widened, and her laugh snorted out. “You're making this up.”
“It made a bang when it hit the marble floor.” I shook my head, smiling along with her. “You should've seen my mother's face. Such horror. She looked like she wanted to smack me.”
Her smile fell, shadows flitting through her eyes. “You were only a boy.”
“Ten. Old enough to run a kingdom, I suppose.”
“Your father died on his thirtieth birthday.”
My pulse stilled before surging. “How did you discover that?”
“Death at thirty seems to be a common thing in your family.”
“What other questions do you have? I'll answer them as honestly as I'm allowed.”
Her head tilted, and she watched my face. “Why do all the males in your family die on their thirtieth birthday?”
She'd been busy. I welcomed this, but still, it was hard. My throat choked off with pain. “After you're crowned, everyone will bow down and swear their allegiance to you. You don't bow back. You sit on the throne and gaze about the room as if it's any old day. When everyone is dismissed and has left, the elder will take back the crown for safekeeping, and you'll be given your first tiara. ”
“Let’s talk about all the men in your family dying on their thirtieth birthday,” she barked. “Your birthday is not far away.”
“Five weeks and three days.” While I knew them, I did not mention the hours remaining.
“Are you going to die as well?”
The pain in her eyes punched me in the chest, driving through my heart. I swallowed—tried to, that is, but nothing would go down. I stood and held my hand out to help her rise. “Tell the elder her hair is gorgeous,” I croaked.
Reyla frowned. “I don't understand why you won't answer me.” She took my hand and rose to her feet.
“Life often unveils itself in ways we never anticipate, challenging us at our core. It takes considerable resilience and determination to carve a new path forward. It’s only in times of great need that true devotion emerges from inside a person, allowing them to seize control over what lies in the past and ahead. Seek the path where the dark meets light.”
She blinked up at me. “That sounds like a riddle.”
“Tell her that her hair is gorgeous,” I choked out.
Reyla sighed before nodding. “Why should I tell her that?”
“You'll see.” I linked her hand through my arm and urged her toward the stairs. “After that, we'll go to the formal dining room for the celebratory meal. Those invited to dine with us, which are only a select few—”
“How many is a select few?”
“Seventy or so.”
She rolled her eyes. “To me, a select few is four or five.”
“We'll be announced, and you'll enter the dining room ahead of me this time only. ”
“I'm to trot behind my king every other time?”
I loved her fire. Loved her. Was it too soon? I didn't think so. Falling in love with this woman was like finding an endless horizon after years of being pinned between unyielding walls of gray. With her, everything was possible if only I could place my foot on the right path.
“What about the curse?” she asked, her gaze drilling into mine. “Will you talk about that?”
She’d been busy. How much did she know?
It might not be enough.
My heart clenched then tore itself open. Vulnerability screamed in every fiber of my being. Rage and tenderness merged inside me, turning my emotions into an exquisite ache. Falling in love with her was like grasping flames. Intense. Consuming. I welcomed the burn if it meant I could stay close to the fire only this woman could light inside me.
“Answer me?” she croaked.
“I share all I can.”
Her sigh bled out.
“Are you suggesting you don't want to trot behind me, my pretty little bride?” I asked as we started down the stairs.
“I balk at convention.”
“No,” I rasped, laying my hand over hers resting on my arm. I nodded to the guards waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and while their sharp eyes scanned the enormous foyer for threats, I gathered magic and fused it to the ground, using the earth to carry any hurried vibrations and voices my way, though again, I didn't hear or feel a threat coming. Yet. There was always a yet.
“I do what I must,” she said .
“I can't ask you for anything more than that.”
We made our way to the antechamber outside the throne room. Murmurs echoed from inside, the rise and swell of my people gossiping as they waited to watch this momentous occasion. Their queen would be crowned today. While they may not know its true meaning yet, and I hoped they never would, it was as solemn an occasion as every other time a willing fae woman was bound to the court and placed below only the Evergorne king.
“They'll announce me first.” I turned her to face me and took her hands, stroking out the trembles. Her gaze darted here and there, though again, I didn't feel or sense threats. “I'll take my throne and wait for you, Wildfire. I'll always wait for you, in this world or the next. Look for me?”
“Don't talk like that.”
“I mean it. Find me.” Please.
She jerked out a nod and nibbled on her lower lip. I'd kiss her if I thought it wouldn't mess her up even more than I already had. While I adored seeing her falling apart from my touch, I'd never do anything to cause her embarrassment. Her pride meant more to me than my own.
“They'll open the door and announce you, and it'll be like any other day at court. You'll walk down the aisle with your ladies in attendance, except this time, you’ll stop and wait for the highest lord in the court to escort you to me.” Her ladies stood nearby, shifting with the same nervous energy as my bride. “He’ll guide you up onto the dais where you’ll stand in front of your throne, facing the audience. After he returns to stand with our guests, I'll rise, and the elders will come forward, the oldest holding your crown. She's nice.”
“And she has gorgeous hair,” Reyla said with a sly smile.
“Exactly.” I grinned. “It'll be over before you know it. Then we can relax and enjoy our meal.”
“A glass of wine would be nice about now. Sipped courage, but I'd take it.”
“You don't need anything like that. You're strong, Reyla. Brave. There isn't anything you can't do. Remember that.”
“Thank you.” A frown wedged her pretty brow. “For everything. When I agreed to this, I didn't know what I was getting myself into. You know my past, and you know what kind of person my father was. I worried . . .”
“That I'd be the same.”
She shrugged. “It's not like I was given any other example. But you're not like him. You're special. Too perfect, actually.”
“I have flaws. Faults.”
“Show them to me sometime.” Her lips flickered upward, quivering like she still did. “Lay them out for me, and we can discuss them.”
“I will. Promise.” I gave her a quick kiss and waited until she’d nodded to show she was ready. After sending out power again, using all my tricks to ensure nothing threatening lurked, I left her, stepping into the throne room at my announcement.
The atmosphere shifted around me, charged with anticipation. The grand space, adorned with intricate tapestries and polished stone, felt even more impressive today. People of all ranks stood, lining the aisle, their elaborate outfits glimmering like rare jewels in the soft light. Dressed in fabrics of deep emerald, royal blue, and stunning crimson, each of them shimmered with fairy-wrought embroidery.
Silence filled the room as I strode forward, determination in my steps. Not once did I lower my gaze. I studied them all, and each bowing head showed that at least, in this, they gave fealty. None made eye contact; they'd be foolish to be that bold. I swirled my power around, coaxing the ground beneath us to share its secrets, the air to carry any whisper of rage. I even used the threads of their garments to tell me their intentions.
Nothing worrisome so far.
As I moved past them, they lifted their gazes, and I sent water droplets on their mirror mission, reflecting what might be hidden in their eyes. Any flicker of hesitation, any hint of disdain, could be a seed of doubt for Reyla, and I wouldn’t allow it to bloom.
A prickle of unease crept across my senses. Scanning the crowd, I met the gaze of several lords, daring them to test my resolve. They recoiled, my scowl making it clear that today, their loyalty must be unquestioned. They dipped their heads, acknowledging my unspoken command.
Assuming I didn’t love my queen would be a mistake they would not live to regret.
With my chin lifted higher, I climbed the dais. The throne of my forefathers waited, a symbol of our court and the hope of a kingdom. When I reached it, I turned and faced the crowd.
Three elders stood off to the side, dressed in simple red robes, the fine lines on their faces hinting at their wisdom. The eldest’s hair, a vibrant blue, framed a face etched with experience and authority. The crown rested in her hands, hidden inside a beautiful red box garnished with silver. Evergorne colors.
I sat on my throne, its coolness seeping into my bones. My heart raced just thinking of Reyla, how she would soon sit beside me for the rest of my life. The crown would not make her a queen; her courage, fierce spirit, and her relentless love for justice would. Would she thrive in this role, or would the weight of generations crush her just as it had all those who'd come before her?
My mother had not handled herself well after my father’s death.
Golden light filtered through the high windows, casting a warm glow through the room as I settled in my seat. My mother stood at the front of the rest, her regal presence drawing the attention of almost everyone in the room. She wore a lovely, deep blue gown, and it shimmered with intricate golden designs. She appeared the very essence of nobility, the fabric hugging her shape perfectly, as if woven by the hands of the fates themselves. Jewelry sparkled at her neck and wrists, diamonds, pearls, and opals all interwoven, catching the light and casting rainbows across her glossy dark brown hair that cascaded down her back in elegant waves.
Longing washed over me. I wished I could’ve had a better relationship with her. Words I never said had become birds trapped in my throat. Only once had she hinted at needing my forgiveness for things that hadn't been her fault. If only she knew how deeply I wanted to tell her that she hadn't betrayed anyone.
My gaze locked on hers across the room, and her emotions washed over me. Her swell of pride mingled with something sharper. Anger radiated from her like the heat of the sun. It was expected. Disappointment must snarl through her heart. She’d craved a daughter-in-law who'd kneel at her feet, a woman who'd let her maintain her queenship without interest in sharing the power. My loud, fierce, wildfire of a woman, Reyla, had burned through that hope, leaving only ashes behind.
How would my mother treat her when all this was settled? I wanted her to be kind, not cold. If she couldn’t see the strength in Reyla, all my bride's fire and courage would be met with harsh judgment. My mother’s hostility could shatter Reyla’s confidence. My wife deserved much more than that.
“High Lady Reyla Jarrn Weldsbane,” the herald intoned, and the room went silent again.
She swept into the room with her head held high. Only I could see the nervousness lurking in her eyes. With her ladies walking proudly behind her, she sedately glided down the aisle, a jewel among a thicket of thorns.
As instructed, she stopped at the end and High Lord Zeiger stepped forward, offering her his arm. She gave him a polite smile as she slid her hand onto his forearm, and with her chin up, she walked with him toward the dais. Surren and her guards remained at attention, each with weapons in hand, their magic and eyes scanning the room for anything unexpected.
My gaze landed on my mother again. Her stiff, impassive mask didn't hide her emotions. They seethed beneath the surface, waiting for the chance to strike. I’d laughed when Lore told me about the dinner last night. Reyla was amazing .
But in seeking revenge, she’d found a true enemy. Mother would find a way to make my wife pay for the slight.
High Lord Zeiger guided her up the stairs and onto the dais.
Every eye in the room remained on us, but when our gazes met, it felt as if we were the only two people in existence. She walked over and turned, standing in front of her throne while her ladies made sure her gown lay smoothly, before they stepped back, leaving us alone.
“Are you ready?” I asked softly, rising.
Her eyes met mine, fierce and determined. “You know I am.”
There was my wildfire bride.
I faced the court. “High lords and ladies.” My voice rang out clear and strong, projecting the pride I felt as all eyes turned toward her. “Today, we gather to witness a momentous occasion, the crowning of your new queen, Reyla Jarrn Weldsbane.”
The oldest elder, Justifar, stepped forward, the red box clasped tightly in her weathered hands. She carefully climbed the stairs to the top of the dais and approached us both, her unseeing gaze landing on me before focusing on Reyla. She didn't see like others but with the eyes within. What did she note about me, and just as important, what did she see in my bride?
She stopped in front of Reyla and with a flourish, she opened the lid, revealing the crown nestled inside. Crafted of the finest silver, its delicate design had been woven through with strands of vibrant gold and red. The companion to my own, it sparkled like captured starlight, radiant against the dark fabric lining the interior of the box .
As Reyla stepped forward, I could almost see the weight of expectation settle on her shoulders, a burden she'd carry until her dying day. This was no ordinary crowning; it was the moment she would claim her true power and rise above all the doubts swirling through the room.
“Reyla Jarrn Weldsbane, do you accept the responsibilities of Queen of Evergorne Court?” Justifar asked, her creaking voice booming through the room.
“I do.” Reyla’s voice came out steady, unwavering. Each word resonated through me, filling me with pride.
The two other elders stepped up onto the dais and stopped on either side of Justifar, linking their hands beneath the box to support it. With both hands, Justifar lifted the crown from its resting place. Every person in the room watched as she approached Reyla, the crown held aloft. The air crackled, magic swirling silently, as if the very world and the fates were holding their breath.
“By the will of the fates and the loyalty of our kind, I crown you queen.”
Reyla dipped her head forward, and Justifar placed the crown on Reyla's head, the weight of it resting gently, perfectly, on her fiery hair.
A hush blanketed the room as the crowd absorbed the moment, their expressions a mix of awe, astonishment, and only a touch of disdain. I met the gazes of the latter until theirs fell, before turning back to my bride, my queen. A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth.
Our eyes locked, a shared spark lighting up the space between us. The crown glimmered above her, a tangible symbol of her strength.
Sparkles erupted from overhead, fairy lights dancing through the air to land on Reyla’s hair, her gown, and the floor around her.
The air buzzed with more hope than I could find within myself.