Chapter 23 Alaric
Alaric
Dragonspire celebrated for two whole days at the good news that the dragon had awoken briefly, and seemed to be well on his way to healing.
King Garyyk requested to meet the dragon, but Shay had cut off access to him until he was healed. He was working with him night and day, and I was getting reports that Shiloh had even dropped in to look in on the dragon, which was... monumentous.
Much more powerful beings than my mate had requested and then demanded his healing help. And he’d refused them all. It amused me that my mate, small in stature, yet overflowing with determination and stubbornness, had been the one to crack the unicorn’s resolve.
Soon, Dragonspire started to get ready for my crowning.
Shifters and other supernaturals started flocking to our town.
The inns and hotels were all full to the rafters, and the last I’d heard people were renting out extra bedrooms in their homes for the weary travelers.
Officials from other countries, and the whole Everlight Enclave arrived, including Draven, and everyone was busy with preparations from sunup to sundown.
Finally, the day arrived.
My valet, Rufus, scrutinized my attire. I was formerly dressed in fire-red robes, trimmed in gold.
As it was tradition for me to be barefoot, a symbolic gesture that reminded the new Prime to step carefully, and to be tender with those that were under his reign, I wasn’t wearing boots or tennis shoe as I wished I was.
I was carrying a lit lantern as a symbol to keep the fires, the pulse of life, burning for my people.
It was also a reminder to tend my own fire well.
A life or death matter for a dragon. A lightweight crown rested on my head, also symbolic.
Not only of my rule and reign, but a reminder that though I wear the crown, I should try my best to not let the weight bear me down too much.
On the crown were two small, inlaid rubies.
A reminder to lean on my mate, and to bear each other’s burdens.
In another month exactly, there would be a public wedding between Everly and I.
And just like today, foreign dignitaries, the Everlight Enclave, shifters, and other paranormals were invited.
The mating ceremony would happen later that evening, in a private event between only Everly and I.
And that would bind us to each other forever.
Elandor and I were literally counting down the minutes.
Fourty-three thousand, one hundred seventy-nine. Oh, look, now we’re at fourty-three thousand, one hundred seventy-eight.
I chuckled. We’re almost there. We’ve waited a lifetime.
It was worth it, Elandor said without hesitation.
I nodded. It was.
Later, during the ceremony, I glanced at my mate.
She was always beautiful, but today she looked mesmerizing in a gold and red formal dress, with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a full skirt that puffed out over Shay’s legs as he sat beside her.
Consort Mia sat on her other side, and though I was grateful she and her husband had come, I worried she might be sick right in the middle of it.
She was holding Everly’s hand on one side, as though they were dear friends, and her husband’s on the other.
Shay would have sat next to Everly anyway, but I’d asked him to, mainly to keep a certain Elemental King from cozying up to my mate again. Asharian lounged near the back beside Sylvara, the Fae Regent. When his smirk met my gaze, I had to fight the urge to punch him again.
The royals of the Everlight Enclave had been kind, ensuring I received the best training possible and keeping me up to date on supernatural affairs.
I appreciated their help, even if most of it was unnecessary—I’d already been trained by my parents, and then by my aunt and uncle.
Still, it had built goodwill between us, and that was no small thing.
Of all of them, I felt most comfortable around King Draven. King Garyyk, like Asharian, had a way of getting under my skin, though we worked together well enough. He wasn’t a bad king, just the sort who liked to push buttons to see what he could get away with.
With Elandor and me, the answer was not much.
My gaze swept across the hall, where every inch was filled with townspeople, and more crowded the windows and doors, straining to listen.
Despite everything, I still felt inadequate. I supposed anyone thrust into power did. What mattered was that I kept trying—every day—to serve my people, to protect them, and to fight for their right to live in peace beside other paranormals.
And for those who needed a gentler hand, my mate would be there.
She would fight for them, heal them, and never stop until she had exhausted every possible resource—and even some that weren’t.
Our Maker had given us complementary gifts, strengths that fit together so perfectly that I was constantly humbled and grateful.
I watched as she passed what looked like a mint to Consort Mia. Mia popped it into her mouth, looking dubious, but moments later her color improved. I caught Everly’s eye and winked. She blushed, then gave me a thumbs-up.
Elandor and I both chuckled. Our mate was delightful.
The traditional dragon crowning ceremony began. Virion, the high elf prince, led it. My crown had been removed just before my entrance so that he could place it upon my head at the appointed time.
“Alaric Amauri, you stand before your people to take upon yourself the mantle of Prime. This crown is not a mark of power alone, but of burden and service. Do you come before us willingly, with honor in your heart and loyalty in your spirit?”
“I do.”
“Do you vow to guard the strength of your kind, to protect the weak, to shield the innocent, and to lead not with pride but with wisdom?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear, before the eyes of your people and the spirits of those who came before you, to carry this mantle until your last breath, with strength, courage, and unwavering resolve?”
“I swear it.”
Virion had me kneel, then placed the crown upon my head.
A deep rumble built in my chest, low and resonant, until the entire hall seemed to vibrate with it.
Fire licked across my skin, bright and alive, and the air itself shuddered.
I felt Elandor rise in strength within me—not as a separate consciousness this time, but as part of me.
Our hearts beat in unison, our breaths merged into one rhythm, and we became one.
Heat surged outward in a flood of gold and scarlet light.
My body stretched, bones reshaping, scales rippling down my arms as wings unfurled from my back with a sound like thunder.
Gasps rose all around. The floor trembled beneath my talons, but the fire that surrounded me didn’t burn. To me, it was life itself.
I lifted my head and released a single, echoing roar that shook the rafters and sent sparks spiraling toward the high ceiling. It wasn’t a sound of dominance or fury, but a vow—a promise to my people that I would always protect them.
Elandor and I were one.
Finally, wholly, one.
When the light dimmed, I stood before my people as the Prime of the Shifters—dragon and man, no longer divided. The glow from my lantern flared in answer, its flame dancing joyfully as if in recognition.
Virion’s voice rang out over the stunned silence.
“Then let it be known: by oath and by spirit, by will and by truth, Alaric is now Prime of the Shifters. May his reign bring unity, strength, and honor.”
The hall erupted. My people shouted, “So it is!” Their cheers thundered against the vaulted ceiling.
I gave one last roar before letting the fire fold inward.
In a flash of light and heat, I stood a man again, my fire-red robes re-forming with me as the enchantment took hold.
A ceremonial robe was draped across my shoulders, and a clear glass globe filled with everlasting fire was placed in my hand. With the other, I reached for Everly.
As she shyly wove her fingers through mine, the roar of celebration swelled until it nearly deafened me. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek, then whispered in my ear, “Long live the king.”
I gazed at her, my miracle, my mate, and my heart leapt at the thought of our wedding in a month, when she would finally be mine. I cupped her cheek, looked into her eyes, and whispered back, “Long live the queen.”
Then I kissed her to the cheers of our people.