Chapter 12
Leon
Fairon lowers his head, the golden wings of Filusia’s throne flaring out behind him as High Mage Masra places the crown upon my brother’s brow.
It’s plainer than the one our grandfather wore, simple and precise in its design.
Fairon looks like he was born to wear it.
Which, of course, he was. He was always meant to sit in this seat; I just hope everyone else can see that too.
I cast my eye around the throne room, taking in the members of court in their finery. We’re all dutifully acting like this coronation wasn’t called out of the blue, as if the old king’s body wasn’t still lying in rest, unburied, in the sanctuary.
That ceremony will come later and will be more private than most monarchs’ burials. It’s part of the price my grandfather must pay for his crimes.
“Lords and ladies, may I present to you King Fairon II of Filusia,” the High Mage intones as Fairon stands, lifting his head high. “Long live the king!”
“Long live the king!” The room echoes with obedient replies.
Barely any of these nobles are old enough to have chanted those words at the last coronation, but I suspect many of them are thinking of my grandfather in this moment.
No one could argue he didn’t live long, but none suspected that his reign would end quite so suddenly, or under such a cloud.
Maybe I’m heartless, maybe it’s a sign that I’ve seen and done too many terrible things, but I can’t summon up anything except relief about that abrupt end. I did not love my grandfather, and I’m happy about that now, because it means his betrayal hurt me less than it did Fairon.
Now my brother’s the one stuck sitting on his throne, speaking to nobles who, just a day ago, were another king’s subjects. They line up now in front of that seat to swear oaths and express their loyalty to their new ruler.
It’s mostly Lavail nobles. There wasn’t enough time to invite any of the lords and ladies from further afield.
Fairon will host another ceremony for them in a few weeks’ time.
Sounds like a waste of resources to me, but he kept going on about making sure we didn’t offend anyone and how important it was to get off on the right foot.
It’s considerations like that which make me glad I had the good sense to be born second.
Alongside the relief, though, I also feel the bite of worry for Fairon. He may have been born for this, but that doesn’t mean his task now will be easy. Our actions in that dining room sent a shockwave across the kingdom, one that will only just be hitting people now.
Justice was served yesterday. I’m as certain of that as I am of anything, but not everyone will agree. And many don’t care about justice at all, just power and the opportunity to get hold of it.
“It was a lovely ceremony,” a delicate voice sounds beside me.
“Hello, Lady Naia,” I say, looking down into the face of my once betrothed. My voice is deliberately toneless, empty of any emotion. I have no desire to speak to this woman and little interest in being polite.
I’m surprised she’s approached me at all after the harsh words we exchanged last time I was here. But then, I’m stationed at the bottom of the steps up to the throne, and I suppose all the nobles have to move directly past me to reach Fairon.
“I’d ask you if you’re enjoying your time back home, but I imagine under the circumstances that would be tactless,” she says, pushing her blonde hair over her shoulder.
“We may not be betrothed anymore, Lady Naia, but I think you know I’m not mourning my grandfather,” I say. We weren’t exactly friends growing up, but we’re also not strangers. My strained relationship with Respen was clear to anyone who spent time around us.
“No, I suppose you aren’t. Me neither. Honestly, I think your brother will be a much better king.” I stare at her, but the clearness in her eyes tells me she’s being sincere.
“Thank you,” I say, wondering why we’re having this conversation. Does she want to get back on my good side now that Fairon is king? If she thinks there’s any future for us now, she’s delusional. There was barely the prospect of one before Ana.
As if she’s read my mind, she takes a step closer, dropping her voice.
“I heard that you and Her Highness performed the sawlamoor,” she looks meaningfully over at Ana, who’s standing beside Tira and Helia and looking radiant in a purple gown. The three of them are deep in conversation, distracted enough that I don’t think Ana’s spotted Naia yet.
For Naia’s sake, that’s probably a good thing.
“You just happened to hear that, did you?” I ask coolly. “And how would you have stumbled across that information, unless you were deliberately sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”
Her mouth tilts downward. It’s not quite a grimace—she’s too elegant for that—but it’s the closest she’ll get. “I suppose I deserve that. But you can’t blame me. The court loves to gossip, and anyone with eyes can see there’s something…unusual between you.”
She has a point. There are patterns to moored couples that you can’t miss after you’ve met a few. I think of Phaia and Helia. They have a kind of instant intimacy about them, something that makes you feel like you’re intruding when they’re together. I’m sure that’s how Ana and I seem too.
“Anyway, I was almost relieved when I heard the news,” Naia says, shaking out her skirts casually.
“You were?” I ask, cautious.
“Well, it made me realize our betrothal could have never worked out. Not after you’d met the princess.
Nor should it have. Moorings…they’re the kind of thing most people don’t get in three lifetimes, let alone one.
” She gives me a gentle smile, her blue eyes sparkling.
“We would’ve worked, believe me, but not like that. ”
She’s right that I would have never considered a sawlamoor for anyone besides Ana. Now that she’s a part of me, I can’t remember what it feels like to have not been joined to her.
“Maybe,” I say. It’s as gracious as I’m willing to be, given the way she behaved the last time I was at the palace.
“I’m sorry, you must have a lot on your mind.” She looks up at Fairon, now in conversation with a lord paying fealty to him on bended knee. “So much has changed, in so short a time.” She leans in closer, and I stiffen, but there’s nothing sensual about the way she lowers her voice.
“Moving to the coronation immediately was a smart move, but don’t be misled.
That is the only reason King Fairon hasn’t been challenged yet.
The Oudis lords have been whispering in the Kurlews’ ears for years, and once they get wind of this, you can bet they’ll push them to make a play for the throne. ”
I take a step back, casting a wary glance over her. “And I’m supposed to just take your word for this, am I? When you’ve proven so trustworthy in the past?”
She flushes. “Get Lord Gyrion to confirm it if you want. I won’t pretend to be your friend, but I wouldn’t mind being your ally.
You can trust that I’ll always look out for my own interests, and those lie in being in the current monarch’s good graces.
Quietly, that is.” She glances around us to check there’s no one listening in.
“It’s precisely because everyone thinks I’m out of favor with your family that I hear all the best gossip about you.
You’d be a fool to ignore the advantage this gives you.
And for all your faults, you’re not a fool. ”
She makes some convincing points. “Alright,” I say. “When do you think they’ll make their move?”
“Not right away. They’ve still got the southern nobles to contend with.
Most of your brother’s opposition will choose to lie low at first. They have time, and they’ll want to see how things settle before they act.
They’ll only start jockeying for position and sabotaging each other once they have the lay of the land. ”
“You’ve been paying attention,” I say.
She shrugs. “Most of this I’m sure the king knows, but I wanted to make it clear he can count on me to pass updates along as they arise. You’ll tell him?”
“I will,” I say, and with a satisfied nod, she melts back into the line of people waiting to pay fealty.
I smile to myself. It’s safe to say Naia’s moved on to bigger things than our betrothal. It almost seems like she’s vying for a spot as advisor to the new king.
“And what in the name of Ralus did she want?” Ana comes to stand by my side, her hazel eyes fierce as she glares in Naia’s direction.
“She’s heard some gossip about people who might move against Fairon now he’s king. She just wanted to pass it on. Why?” I level a questioning look at her as I sense a touch of a certain spiky emotion across the mooring. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”
Ana makes a dismissive scoff.
“Of that harpy? Not likely,” she replies swiftly.
I give her a knowing smirk.
She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Dig a little deeper and you’ll feel how much I don’t care about that woman. Why should I? You’re mine.”
The last thought comes with a deeply possessive note I love to hear.
“Feeling territorial, are we?” I say to prod her into more of it.
“It’s just a statement of fact.” She meets my gaze, pinning me in place with the heat of her look. “And after this ceremony, I will take you back to our room and remind you exactly who you belong to. Slowly. Thoroughly. Until you can’t even remember your own name, let alone that shrew’s.”
Warmth rolls through my veins, and I grin at her hungrily.
“Careful, princess, I’ll hold you to that promise.”
“You can hold me against anything you want,” she replies, looking straight ahead. “As long as you’re buried inside me when you do it.”
I make a choking noise, and she laughs out loud, pleased with herself.
“I probably don’t want to ask what’s so funny, do I?” Alastor says, coming to stand beside us, having just publicly sworn his oath to Fairon.
“Maybe not,” Ana says. “How are you feeling? Did the dryads—”