Chapter 4 #2
“What do we do now?” She’s softened a bit. The fight is still in her, but she knows she doesn’t need to direct it at me.
I loosen a breath and scrub a hand through my hair. What a loaded question. Where do we even start? “We’ll need to figure out your coronation.”
She blinks, confused.
“You can’t just claim you’re queen,” I tell her, slightly exasperated. “You need to be crowned.”
A borderline bitter laugh rips out of Meryn. “And who will coronate me? I tore that crown out of a bloody gutter.” She points to where it rests on the stone, upside down. “The king I wrenched power from is no longer alive.”
I bend to pick up the crown, then set it carefully on the table beside us, atop a stack of books.
This, at least, I have an answer to. Siegrid reached out to me last night when she sensed tumult in the bonds.
“The Mother Priestess of the Faceless Goddess’s order will preside over the ceremony.”
Meryn huffs. “I thought you considered the Faceless Goddess to be ‘commoner nonsense,’” she says, reminding me of my words in Linsfall when we visited the famous statue of the goddess.
She’s right, I do. If there was truly some beneficent goddess, why would our world be so shit? No, the only gods up there are the kind that take joy from watching their human playthings kill one another.
Can’t fault anyone for hoping for something better, though.
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s about making your coronation legitimate for the common people, and the head of the order has overseen every ceremony for every new royal throughout history.
The Sovereign Alpha is traveling up from the front for the coronation, and she’ll escort the Mother Priestess here. ”
Meryn’s brow furrows. “Sorry, the Sovereign Alpha? You mean, your mother?”
A tiny muscle twitches in my jaw. “Sure.”
Cratos snickers in my mind, but I ignore him.
“We’ll need to get nobles in attendance to make the coronation legitimate,” I continue. “It will be difficult to persuade them to come. We may not get all the fiefdoms on board, and you will need to prepare yourself for that possibility.”
Thankfully, Siegrid is bringing Noemi with her from the war front, who should be helpful. My chest warms at the thought. It’s been months since I’ve seen Noemi, held her in my arms.
Meryn nods stiffly. “And should I be worried about the other Bonded after what happened in the arena? With… Jonah?”
That festering piece of shit.
I should have culled him during the Trials when I had the chance. It’s frowned upon, instructors killing the Rawbonds, but if a rider isn’t suited to be in a pack, then someone needs to act. I’ll never forgive myself for that.
When I finally end him, I’ll take my time. Cratos can eat his entrails while graydoves peck out his eyes. We’ll leave his dick for the rats.
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “What happened in the arena…”
“The Dire Blade.” Meryn sits back down on the ground and cradles her head in her hands. “I had that in my possession for all of a day before breaking it. No one is going to believe I’m legitimate now.”
She lifts her dirty, bloodied face toward me, and the devastation on it hits me in the gut. She quickly explains what happened when it shattered, the way she could feel her power corrupted and throttled.
“It’s the bracelet,” she says quietly. “Whatever kind of Siphon blood magic is in it… it’s fucking everything up. Will anyone listen to my commands without the Dire Blade?”
I shrug. “We know the Dire Blade existed during the reign of the Sturmfrost Queens, but we don’t know how it was used. Regardless, the people will follow your lead because they’ll come to accept that you’re the rightful regent.”
Her mouth twists in skepticism, and I don’t blame her.
“Things will be under control when the Sovereign Alpha arrives,” I continue. “No one can deny the power you hold, and no one would dare move against Siegrid. She’s too respected and feared by the Bonded.”
“Okay.” Meryn glances down at the ruined gown she’s still wearing. “Ugh, I need to clean up and find something else to wear.”
I sigh and reach down a hand to guide her up. “I know someone who can help us with that.”
Cratos and Anassa leave to deal with the rest of the wolves, and I lead Meryn through the twisting bowels of the castle. Eventually, we reach a huge wooden door, and I knock.
“Come in,” says an aged, elegant voice.
We enter an office that overlooks the snow-covered front gardens through a wall of ornate windows. It’s richly decorated but not ostentatious, and at the center of the room is a beautifully carved wooden desk. An older woman with a tight gray bun and a shrewd gaze stands behind it.
“Your Highness,” the woman says to Meryn, bowing deeply.
“This is the Castle Matron, Alienor Bernard,” I tell Meryn, gesturing for her to take one of the plush cobalt-blue chairs in front of the desk.
No one’s sure exactly how old Matron Alienor is; she’s been in charge for long enough that she must be in her eighties, but she looks like she might be in her early sixties. I’ve known her peripherally since I was a child.
She’s never been warm, but she’s always kind.
Meryn looks up, a little perplexed. “Castle… Matron?”
Matron Alienor tilts her head. “Yes. I am the head of staff and facilities here.”
I scoff, taking the chair next to Meryn’s and gesturing for Alienor to sit down, too. “That’s a very basic description of what you do. She’s in charge of everything that happens inside this place, from overseeing the castle servants to repairs to keeping the royals and nobles in line.”
“And now I serve at your pleasure,” she smoothly tells Meryn. She may have been the right hand of the Valtieres for decades, but Alienor is sharp enough to know how to keep her job and her head.
I quickly fill Alienor in on Meryn’s needs: rooms, clothes, attendants.
“Have you considered your Council?” Matron Alienor asks Meryn.
Meryn shakes her head. “I’m sorry; I’m not sure what that means.”
Alienor’s glance to me is so quick that I hope Meryn missed it. In that silent millisecond, she said everything that I know is true: This woman is to be queen, and she knows nothing about the role. Not even the very basics.
It’s one thing to have the crown call to you. Or to ride the most powerful direwolf in centuries. Or to have royal lineage coursing through your veins.
It’s another thing entirely to rule.
We all have our work cut out for us, most especially Meryn. I really fucking hope she’s ready to learn this time.
“The Council Palast are your royal advisors,” Matron Alienor says smoothly, no trace of judgment in her tone. “Former King Cyril’s Council comprised myself, the Councilor of Sturmfrost, Sovereign Alpha Siegrid Therion, and then several of his relatives.”
Meryn’s brow furrows. “What purpose did the relatives serve?”
“They advised on relations with commoners, relations with the Bonded, and oversaw the planning of any major events or ceremonies at the castle.”
“Okay,” Meryn says. She quiets, and it’s clear—to me, at least—that she’s getting advice from Anassa.
“I’ll keep you and the Sovereign Alpha on the Council.
The Councilor of Sturmfrost… well, I suppose I should keep him, too.
Get rid of the Valtiere relatives; I’ll replace them with interim advisors. ”
Matron Alienor folds her hands in front of herself on the desk. “Which method would you prefer? Beheading? Imprisonment? Dismemberment by wolves?”
Meryn blanches. “Goddess, no. I just meant—get them out of here. Send them back to whatever fiefdom they came from. I know how Cyril handled things, Matron Alienor, but I am different.”
A small smile graces the Matron’s face. “Understood.”
“Speaking of which,” Meryn continues, this conversation bringing her back to life finally, “the servants. Let them know that anybody who wants to leave is welcome to go. They’re not required to work for someone they don’t support or might be afraid of.
Anyone who chooses to quit can have one month’s pay and a strong reference.
There are too many people in Sturmfrost who would be willing to take their jobs; it doesn’t make sense to force those who are unwilling. ”
The declaration loosens something in my chest. After that display in the arena, a part of me worried we unleashed another tyrant in the making.
But it seems Meryn truly does want to be a different type of regent.
If I’m going to stand by someone’s side and offer to be their weapon, I need to know I won’t be aimed in the wrong direction.
My thoughts trail to the way that Meryn let Jonah and the others leave when another ruler—Cyril, surely, or even the Sovereign Alpha—would have demanded their immediate executions. At her own horror over the deaths she’d caused; horror so vast that it manifested in injuring herself.
A regent who truly grieves when her people are harmed…
My heart thuds painfully in my chest as I look at her now, hazel eyes lit up with a righteous fervor, pink high on her cheekbones.
If she has people by her side who can encourage that empathy, if she’s not corrupted by the power she’s wielding… what could that mean for Nocturna?
“I’ll let them know immediately,” Matron Alienor responds, jotting down a note to herself. “From the willing servants, we’ll select one to be your primary attendant. She and the others will prepare the regent’s rooms for you.”
Meryn’s face pales. “King Cyril’s rooms?”
Matron Alienor raises a single gray brow. “Of course. They’re traditional royal chambers.”
“No,” Meryn says firmly. “I’ll stay on the royal side of the castle if that sends a necessary message, but not there. Not now. It’s too soon.”
“How about the Sovereign Alpha’s rooms?” I interject, and Alienor nods. Turning to Meryn, I explain, “The Sovereign Alpha has designated chambers on that side of the castle to keep her close to the royal family.”
“Why don’t you take her there now?” Matron Alienor suggests. “I’ll send someone to prepare a bath and clothes immediately.”
We all stand, and Matron Alienor’s lips purse in thought. She opens her mouth as if to say something and then stops herself, shaking her head.
“What?” I ask. “This is no time to stand on ceremony, Matron.”
She gives me a tight nod and turns to Meryn. “Your Highness, I hope this is taken as a kindness, as it’s meant as one. It seems there may be some… gaps in your knowledge about royal responsibilities and procedure.”
Meryn starts to laugh and can’t stop. She doubles over, tears streaming down her face as giggles continue to pour out of her.
Matron Alienor shoots me an alarmed look, and I grab Meryn’s arm, my fingertips tingling where our bodies make contact.
“Pull it together,” I mutter. “Your Highness.”
Meryn stands, wiping the tears from her face. “Forgive me, Matron Alienor. That was the politest way anyone’s ever told me I’m a know-nothing moron, and I’ve been told that a lot over the past few months.”
Alienor’s face reddens. “I meant no offense, truly—”
This poor woman. I didn’t know she could get flustered like this. But Meryn Sturmfrost brings out the unexpected in everyone, it seems.
Meryn waves a hand, cutting her off. “No offense taken. It’s true, the gaps in my knowledge are so large they could be called canyons. I’ll gratefully accept any instruction you might offer me, and if you have any books I should read in the meantime, please hand them over.”
A small smile now on her face, Matron Alienor walks quickly to the bookshelf that covers one entire wall and pulls a few leather-bound volumes from it. Then she hands the pile of books over to Meryn and sees us out the door, shutting it firmly behind us.
No doubt very happy to have survived that meeting with her head intact.
Back in the hall, I lead Meryn silently to the Sovereign Alpha’s rooms, then bow and turn to depart.
She blurts out a strangled “Stop.”
I freeze but don’t turn around.
“Thank you,” she says. “For everything.”
My hands flex at the words. I draw my shoulders back slightly, lift my head, and look at her.
The tears from her laughter have left new streaks in the dirt on her cheeks, but her shoulders are held high. She’s clutching the books tightly to her chest, pushing the swells of her breasts out of the top of her dress. She’s ruined and regal in the same breath.
Heat lashes through me, urgent and unyielding.
I can picture it, again, the type of ruler she could be. Unafraid to do the necessary for people at any level. Confident and fair. Demanding justice when required, but never cruelly. She could be all that, and more.
The thought comes quickly, entirely unwelcome: She belongs on a throne. She deserves to be worshipped.
And just as swiftly comes the knowledge that I need to keep my distance, even while watching her closely, protecting her. Because I know what happened in that arena today. She saw her own power, was rightfully afraid of it, and was going to set it aside.
Until I encouraged her to seize the darkness.
The blood is just as much on my hands as hers.
“I was serious about what I said,” I tell her, my voice a growl that I hope masks my aching need. “Next time it’s too much, you find me. We’ll find another outlet for your pain.”
Then I turn back on my heel and walk swiftly down the hall, trying very hard not to imagine just what kind of outlets we might find.