Chapter 59 Ikar
Ikar
Isit at the head of a long wood table settled in the middle of a small meadow amidst tall grass and wildflowers as if it was planted and grown here like everything else.
Matching chairs line its sides, filled with at least forty people.
Vera is seated to my left, Odella on my right, and Darvy and Rhosse appear comfortable farther down.
Vines with tiny flowers wrap around the thick table legs and creep up and over the edges of the surface, and an artful mix of pinecones, pine boughs, and wildflowers grace the center of the table.
It’s all beautiful, but it’s nothing compared to Vera.
The dress she wears, one made entirely of petals, is perfection on her frame, the purple a flawless complement to gray eyes that are so open and warm I can hardly believe I’m the recipient of their attention.
I’m forced to drag my gaze from hers when wood bowls are set before us, filled with fresh, dark berries interspersed with a variety of seeds and nuts, topped with sweet tree sap and fresh mint.
They’re accompanied by enormous leaves full of perfectly cooked fish, a pile of something that looks suspiciously like some sort of insect’s eggs, and wild carrots.
I notice none of the nymphs who dine with us have fish or insect eggs in their leaves—apparently they don’t eat meat.
I sort of wish I don’t either at this moment.
Odella stands, and immediately the table grows quiet. “We celebrate the success of our king in finding not only the Field of Tulips and being found worthy to take one, but also in that he found a Queen of the Night herself.”
There’s a round of celebration that sounds like rushing wind and water and creaking branches as everyone’s eyes turn to the two of us. I grin broadly at Vera, who blushes at the attention, but she offers a small smile.
Odella begins the meal, and we dig in. I find that the food of the nymphs is similar to the fae, so I’m not surprised when Vera takes a bite of insect eggs without hesitation.
I eat those first, forcing them down between bites of delicious fish to ease the gag.
No one would know I thought the meal anything other than normal.
I’ve been raised for this. I smother a smile as she takes another graceful bite.
Vera was made to be queen; she just doesn’t know it yet.
The fact that I have years to show her just how perfect she is brings a rush of contentment.
From my right, Odella asks, “What comes next, King?”
With practiced swallowing, another bite of insect eggs goes down. “We return to Moneyre where we will marry and bridge.” I take a sip of the orange liquid in my cup that tastes like some sort of tangy nectar.
“The gloam masters,” Odella states.
“What about them?” I ask.
“Will they be destroyed by you and Vera bridging? Or will you have to banish them behind lucent again?”
I pause. I don’t actually know how any of it works. Jethonan never explained that part to me. “That’s something I intend to find out.”
She directs her attention to Vera over the low rumble of nature sounds and voices. “Does Renton know who you are?”
Vera nods. “He knows I’m a Black Tulip and plans to bridge with me.”
I find my hand fisting on my leg beneath the table.
She looks at me. “But he won’t be able to if I bridge with someone else first.” She realizes a second too late what she said before the crowd, and I see her sink into her chair, her knee pressing against my thigh with the motion.
But even with her embarrassment, her eyes meet mine with so much invitation I barely manage to stay seated.
I’m ready to leave tonight, retrieve the flower I left in Moneyre, marry, and bridge.
The words are practical to everyone else, but to me, they hold promise.
When Vera meets my eyes, her cheeks warm even more.
The meal continues with the low hum of conversation.
Plates are cleared, the night grows late, and still conversations continue.
I watch Vera talk and laugh with a nymph the color of a blushing rose, but she must feel my gaze on her because she glances my way and tilts her head with a question in her eyes.
I simply quirk my lips in a half-smile as an overwhelming rush of affection runs through me.
I sit back, for the first time feeling like I can fix things for my people.
At times I can still hardly believe I found a Black Tulip—not only found one, but fell in love with her too.
My heart was vulnerable to Vera from the moment I met her—I felt it.
The fear, the knowledge, that I’d fall for her before I could distance myself was there from the beginning.
I smile as I realize the woman I thought I could never have… is the only one I ever needed.
The night is quiet around us as we walk hand in hand up wide leaf stairs, the noise of celebration behind us gradually replaced with soft chirping from crickets and the rustle of leaves in the warm breeze.
It feels surreal to hold her hand in mine without the weight of secrets between us, our magic twisting and curling together, natural and free.
We don’t speak, but the warm tension between us is heady.
I hesitate to speak and disrupt it, but I have one question that simmers in my mind.
“You never told me what Odella showed you.”
“Is that you asking?” Vera smirks, but I see a hint of worry as her brows draw together.
“Sort of.” I offer a casual smile to hide the fact that it’s been killing me not knowing.
“I never saw the original seer vision, but the one she showed me matched the one I’ve heard about… a Tulip bridging with a being of darkness. Someone like Renton—the same thing they saw hundreds of years ago.” Fear glimmers in her eyes. “I don’t want to be that person.”
“You won’t.” I squeeze her hand, attempting to reassure her.
“I’ll believe you once we’ve bridged.” She smiles wryly as we reach the landing that leads to our rooms.
“That day can’t come soon enough.”
She looks up and meets my eyes with a smile on her lips that’s so tempting it takes everything within me to not pull her to me and claim her mouth with my own.
I resist leaving her at her door like I know I should.
She appears reluctant to end the evening as well, but when she slips her hand from mine, I quickly shutter my disappointment.
I expect her to say goodnight and enter her room.
Instead, she holds my gaze as she pulls the length of her hair forward, letting it fall over the front of her shoulder before she slowly turns and rests her palms lightly on the dainty wood railing overlooking the forest beneath us.
The three moons and flickering tiny lights amidst the trees offer a warm glow, and in the distance, I can still hear the nymph party, but right now all I can focus on is the small tulip mark at the base of her neck.
I hesitate to move, or even breathe. She’s always been too intentional about hiding her mark for this to be anything other than her gifting me every last remnant of her trust. My eyes rove the lines of her mark, so small, so stark against her fair skin.
I step forward, fearing if I touch her, she’ll run.
I take the risk and slowly slide my hands down her upper arms, watching for any sign that she doesn’t want my touch.
She turns her head to look over her shoulder, standing so still I hardly see her shoulders rise and fall with the movement of even breath. I still, giving her a moment to step away, to turn around, to run if that’s what she wants… but she stays, unmoving, as if waiting for me to make the next move.
I slowly lift a finger and reverently trace the outline of her mark, not missing the way her breath catches… the warmth that begins to burn between us.