Chapter 35 Rhianelle #3
He searches for words. “Your wyvern is his mate.”
Sanguisyl and Coral. Mates.
I knew it. I think I felt it during the battle, and so did Svenn. I saw the way the ancient red wyvern looked at Coral.
“I was wondering if Sanguisyl could visit,” Finnbheara continues carefully. “Only for a short time. He has been restless since we returned to Avalon, and I believe seeing her would ease him.”
“No,” Svenn says flatly.
Finnbheara blinks. “I beg your pardon?”
“No,” Svenn repeats. “Absolutely not. Sanguisyl is not visiting Coral.”
Oh, Svenn.
“He’s enormous. Coral is small and fragile. I’m not letting some massive wyvern anywhere near her.” Svenn leans back in his chair and folds his arms.
My heart is in my throat. Not just because Svenn is being rude to the new Fae King. But because… I agree with him. I don’t want Coral near Sanguisyl either. I don’t want to risk her. Besides, what if Finnbheara takes her? What if the Fae King decides Coral should be with her mate?
“I understand your concern,” Finnbheara says, choosing each word with visible care. “But Sanguisyl doesn’t want to hurt her. Quite the opposite. He wants to protect and guard her. Once wyverns recognize their mate, they become fiercely protective. Even more so when the bond is as rare as theirs.”
“She’s just a baby,” I blurt out. “Coral is just a baby. She’s not ready for a mate.”
“I know,” Finnbheara says delicately. “That’s not what I’m suggesting. Wyverns age and mature differently. It will be decades before Coral is old enough for that aspect of their bond anyway. Right now, Sanguisyl just wants to be near her and to know she’s safe.”
“No,” Svenn says again.
“They’re each the last of their kind,” Finnbheara presses. “I thought Sanguisyl would never find a mate.”
“I said no,” Svenn repeats.
Finnbheara’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. “Landon says your wyvern could not speak their common calls.”
“She grew up with us, with me, Svenn, and our late Lady Siofra.” I explain softly. “Coral has never been around other wyverns and never learned their language. She only understands our sign language and gestures.”
Finnbheara looks surprised. “That’s unfortunate. But not insurmountable. Wyverns can learn. Given time—”
Something nudges my back.
I turn to see Coral. She’d been napping in the corner during the negotiations. Now she’s awake and pushing her snout against Svenn’s back.
Svenn turns and looks at her.
“Coral says that she never wants to see Sanguisyl again,” Svenn announces to Finnbheara, his voice serious. “She says he’s ugly and terrifying. The worst wyvern she’s ever seen. She wants him to leave immediately and never come back.”
I stare at Svenn. Because that’s not—
Coral is not saying that at all. She’s nudging him because she’s hungry and she wants chicken. That’s her ‘I’m hungry, please feed me’ nudge.
Svenn is making up mean and cruel things. I should correct him and tell Finnbheara the truth.
But I’m scared. Terrified, actually. If Finnbheara knows Coral is not actively rejecting Sanguisyl, he’ll push harder.
What if I lose her?
I love Coral so much. She’s been with me through everything and has saved my life. I’m not ready to let her go.
Maybe one day when she’s older. Maybe when she’s ready to search for her mate herself. To make her own choices and decide what she wants.
But not now. Not yet.
So I stay silent and let Svenn’s lies stand.
Finnbheara’s eyes widen. He looks at Coral. At the young pale wyvern who’s now chirping happily because she thinks Svenn is about to feed her.
“She said Sanguisyl is ugly?” Finnbheara looks genuinely shocked.
“Hideous,” Svenn says without missing a beat.
Finnbheara struggles for words. “I had no idea. The way they looked at each other during the battle, I was certain—”
“You were wrong,” Svenn says firmly. “Coral has made her feelings very clear. She’s perfectly happy here with us.”
Finnbheara looks at me, seeking truth.
I should tell him.
“She’s happy,” I say instead. It’s not a lie. Coral is happy. “We want her to stay happy and to feel safe.”
“I understand,” Finnbheara says, sounding disappointed. “I would never force anything. If Coral doesn’t want to see Sanguisyl, then I’ll respect that.”
He takes a breath and stands, diplomatic again.
“I apologize for the disturbance,” he says stiffly. “I didn’t mean to make anyone uncomfortable. The peace treaties are signed. That’s what matters. I’ll take my leave now.”
Finnbheara leaves the room and crosses the courtyard toward the waiting wyverns. The two fae mount their companions while Sanguisyl lowers himself for his rider.
Coral watches them through the window. She stops nudging Svenn for food and takes several quick steps toward the open doors to peek.
My heart clenches. I want her to stay, but I do not want fear to decide for her.
Finnbheara is already halfway to Sanguisyl when I hurry after him across the courtyard.
“King Finnbheara,” I call.
He turns back. Svenn follows me out and folds his arms, but he does not stop me.
“Perhaps Coral could see Sanguisyl,” I say quietly. “But from a distance.”
Finnbheara’s expression brightens. “Of course.”
We lead Coral out into the open courtyard. Sanguisyl waits with the two smaller wyverns belonging to Finnbheara’s retinue. The moment he sees Coral, the ancient red wyvern lifts his head and begins to approach.
“Stay,” Finnbheara commands.
Sanguisyl stops at once. His claws scrape against the stone, but he remains where he is.
Coral tilts her head and studies him. The little wyvern notices a stick near the edge of the courtyard.
She trots over, picks it up in her mouth, and presses one end against the stone.
With a quick twist of her head, she strikes it across the ground, and a small flame blooms at its tip like a struck match.
She drops the burning stick between them and looks at Sanguisyl expectantly.
“What does that mean?” Finnbheara asks.
“Do not come closer,” Svenn translates. “This is my territory.”
That is not what she said.
Coral is just showing off. She looks between Svenn and me. Her clawed foot moves to tap the signs Lady Siofra taught her.
Friends?
I nod. “Yes. They are friends.”
Svenn signs something else before I can stop him. But they are chicken rivals.
Coral recoils as though he has revealed a terrible betrayal. Her pale scales rise along her neck, and she snarls at Sanguisyl and the two other wyverns. She backs toward us, still glaring at the supposed thieves coming for her food.
Svenn catches hold of her harness, and together we guide her back toward the palace. Sanguisyl watches Coral until the palace walls hide her from view.
Finnbheara watches her retreat before releasing a quiet breath. “You were right. She is not ready to meet him.”
Perhaps the Fae King remembers how the little wyvern wounded Sanguisyl in the battle. His shoulders lower in resignation. “But I am glad Coral is happy. That is what matters, even if Sanguisyl will be insufferable about this for the next century.”
He bows once more, then turns and rejoins his retinue. The two smaller wyverns launch first, followed by Sanguisyl carrying Finnbheara. Coral watches until they disappear beyond the palace walls, then chirps again and nudges Svenn’s satchel with growing impatience.
“Yes, yes,” Svenn mutters, pulling a piece of dried chicken from it. “Here you go, little monster.”
Coral snatches it eagerly and swallows it whole. She nuzzles against Svenn affectionately.
I fold my arms. “You lied. Coral just wanted food.”
“I did,” Svenn agrees without shame.
“You told Finnbheara she thought Sanguisyl was ugly. That was cruel,” I say, giving him a reproachful look. But I’m smiling, just a little.
“Coral, do you want to leave with the big, ugly wyvern?” Svenn asks plainly, and my heart squeezes as I wait for the pale wyvern’s answer.
Coral tilts her head. With chicken rival?
Svenn nods solemnly.
Coral’s eyes widen. She shakes her head so fiercely that her wings flap. The big ones will steal Coral’s food. Coral stays.
The wyvern paws at the ground, then lowers her head and knocks Svenn backward with an affectionate headbutt. My heart blooms with so much relief that it almost hurts.
Coral stays.
She is not staying because we forced her to. This is still where she wants to be. Svenn grabs her around the neck, and Coral immediately tries to wrestle him into the grass.
“I’m not letting anyone take her,” he says as he struggles beneath one enormous pale wing. “Not Finnbheara. Not Sanguisyl. Not anyone.”
He catches her snout between his hands and pushes her face away from his. “She’s ours and she’s staying.”
“What if she wants to find her mate someday?” I ask.
“Then she’ll go,” Svenn says simply. “When she’s ready and she chooses to. But not because some fae prince decided it’s time or because an ancient wyvern wants to claim her. Only when she wants it.”
I nod. Because he’s right. That’s how it should be.
Coral will decide when the time comes. When she’s older and strong enough. She’ll choose whether to stay with us or seek out her mate. Whether to remain with us or fly toward Avalon and Sanguisyl.
But that’s her choice to make.
Until then, she’s staying with us, safe and loved. Our Coral.
I made a deal with Aelfheim’s council.
I’m stepping down as queen.
The announcement caused chaos, with people protesting and Aldarelf council members arguing. Everyone is afraid and panicking, begging me to stay.
“You can’t leave,” Lord Ctibor says. “You saved us. The people need you. The kingdom needs you.”
“The kingdom needs someone,” I agree, keeping my voice calm despite the shouting around us. “But that someone doesn’t have to be me. Not anymore.”
It takes weeks of negotiation before the council finally agrees.
I’ll retain the title of queen, but it will be largely honorary. I’ll be there for major decisions and crises, or whenever they truly need me.
But the daily governance? That’s for the council and for the people. They decide their future and choose their path without needing a queen to tell them what to do.