Chapter 64
64
M y gown was wine red with sheer sleeves and gold detailing. As I stood in the hallway of this palace—my new home—I could hear the roaring beyond the curtains. We had traveled by ship for a few days before we reached the sea port of the capital of Stormgard, and we had made it to the sprawling palace just in time to address the people. Our people.
“Ready?” Tristen said, entering the hallway and closing a door behind him.
“Yes,” I said, my heart doing tiny flips as he entered, dressed in a black brocade jacket and finery with gold trim that matched the gold I wore. He was truly embodying the King of Stormgard.
Tristen took my hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze. Then, we pushed past the curtains, stepping into the afternoon sun.
We let our glamours drop completely as we stepped onto the balcony, and the crowds gathered before us cheered in adoration. They waved crimson banners in the same shade of my dress, the official seal of Stormgard inked on them in gold—a hand gripping a lightning bolt.
“Today is one of celebration,” Aldric said to all of the spectators, who hushed just long enough to hear his magically amplified voice. “For today, our one true Queen returns, and we gather here today to see her crowned and joined together in a Soul Bond with King Tristen Greywood, heir to the throne.”
More cheers, and Aldric takes a box from a pedestal, opening it and presenting it to Tristen. In it lies a gold crown of fire, a tiny phoenix at the center of the crest.
“Long live Queen Saffron Greywood,” Aldric said, and the crowd shouted in glee as Tristen reached for the crown and placed it on my head. Aldric closed the box with a flourish, and then returned with a second one, opening this one to me.
“Long live King Tristen Greywood,” he said, and I took the crown and placed it on Tristen’s head. The smile that lit up his face was like the glow of a hundred sunrises and sunsets. Eternal, hopeful, and the most stunning sight on all of the horizon.
“Bow to your rulers, who will once and for all lead Stormgard into our future as a free kingdom,” Aldric called, and Tristen pulled me into a kiss as the crowd shouted our praises from below.
Tristen pulled away and then took my hand, leading us to the end of the balcony, where we stopped to look out at the crowd below.
A hush settled, and Aldric took a step back as Tristen addressed our subjects below.
“When I left, I promised that I would return with our Queen, and I did.” Cheers threatened to overwhelm the crowd, but he held up a hand. “Not only that, but she has returned blessed by the goddess Orsi as a Brightborne. I look forward to proving myself worthy of her—and of you. I know we’re all fighting a war against the Kingdom of Luminaria. But rest assured, we have returned to lead you—all of you—to victory. And my Queen will fight by my side to ensure your safety.”
Shouts and applause peppered the crowd below as Tristen turned to me.
I took a deep breath, smoothing my skirts as I addressed my new subjects. “A lot has transpired since I have seen you last, but one thing remains the same. Stormgard will remain free. We will not bow to Luminaria’s reign of terror, and I will be on the frontlines beside your King to ensure it. Thank you.”
I took a step back. Tristen nodded at the crowd, and we turned back to the doors, disappearing into our palace.
Our home.
Tristen and I walked back inside, his hand squeezing mine.
“Not too shabby after being at sea for the last day,” he said.
“I’m just glad that the floor stopped moving,” I said, smiling at him, taking in his features. Not only had we survived The Ash Trials, but we had made it back. Made it home .
Tristen suddenly pulled us down a small hallway, and before I could say anything, he pushed me up against the stone wall of a small alcove, his lips and body pressed to mine. His kiss was insistent, hungry—his need for me never ebbing since we first came together.
“Tristen,” I said, a small noise escaping the back of my throat as he kissed my neck, his hands pulling me against him.
“You’re mine,” he growled against my skin. “No one will take you from me ever again,” he promised, his lips ghosting against my jaw as his promise made my heart flutter.
I was about to reply when a scream split the air.
Tristen broke away from me in a heartbeat. With my new Brightborne hearing, I heard the rush of footsteps down many halls as Tristen and I started running toward the origin of the sound.
We sprinted until we reached the main hall of the palace. As we burst into the cavernous rooms, a woman with bright red hair stood in the center.
I knew as I ran toward her who she was, even as she slowly raised her face to me.
“Rachelle!” I called, but she didn’t look like herself. Her blue eyes were instead replaced by dark voids, and she was dripping in blood. Behind her lay the bodies of several guards.
Her mouth stretched back into a grin, and when she spoke, I heard not just her voice, but the voice of a god who was channeling through her.
“You think you escaped us, Saffron?” she said, her voice echoed by that awful, ancient one that felt like it scraped down the innermost recesses of my mind. “Until you return, you will be hunted. Those you love will be killed, one-by-one. And do you know who will be waiting for you when you are forced to finally face us? The one you left behind.”
Rachelle threw back her head, emitting a high-pitched cackle.
“Let go of her!” I yelled to the god who had a grip on her body, and Tristen prowled closer to her, his shadows snaking out.
Then, there was a flash of steel as Rachelle’s arm shot up, a dagger in her hand.
Not a dagger aimed at us, but a dagger aimed at her own heart.
“NO!” The words ripped from my lips as I lunged for my friend, but Tristen’s shadows reached her first. They wound around her wrist to keep her from plunging it into her heart, but she was unnaturally strong. I got to her and gripped her hand as well, also trying to keep her from puncturing her own heart as she struggled against us. A line of blood formed on her chest where the dagger was starting to embed itself within her.
“Please! Let go of her!” I begged the forces who had possessed Rachelle.
“Stand back,” Tristen said, and I saw him charging up his shadowfire in his hands.
“You can’t kill her?—”
“I won’t?—”
“If I let go she’s done for!” I screamed.
“We’ll do it fast. On three…”
I struggled with the blade, fighting against Rachelle as the spirit possessing her tried to drive it deeper within herself.
“Two…” Tristen said.
Rachelle’s eyes shifted back to her familiar pale blue color. “Saffron—help me!” she said, and I saw the agony in her eyes.
“You have to fight, Rachelle!” I pleaded, and I saw a flash of resolve as her arms fought against the spirit possessing her, withdrawing the blade just slightly from her bloody skin.
“NOW!” I screamed as I let go of the blade, just as the black pits of nothingness eclipsed her eyes.
I jumped back and Tristen’s shadowfire shot out, blasting the blade with precision. The spirit that possessed Rachelle screamed, trying to crush the blade into her heart, but it had been frozen by Tristen’s power and it merely shattered into a thousand frozen pieces at her feet.
Rachelle’s eyes flashed blue once more and she turned to me, forcing her words out as if each one cost her all of her energy. “They won’t let you live, Saffron,” Rachelle said to me as she fought the thing inside of her. Then, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she fell to the ground.
I ran to her as Tristen turned to the guards spilling into the space.
“Get a healer!” he called.
I ran my fingers through her curly red hair, my breathing unsteady as Tristen crouched beside us, checking Rachelle’s pulse.
She was still alive—barely.
Rachelle had been dragged into a sleep so deep she barely breathed, kept in a state that the healers could only describe to me as a form of stasis. I stayed at her bedside that night, unable to sleep while Tristen paced the hall outside, having long discussions with his advisors and generals.
We had only just returned, only just claimed our rightful place at the throne—only to be haunted by everything we had faced on the Isle of Embermere. We had escaped, but clearly we were not free of the gods that seemed to be growing more restless there.
One part of what Rachelle had said—what the spirit or god inside her had said—kept repeating itself within my head, over and over again.
And do you know who will be waiting for you when you are forced to finally face us? The one you left behind.
There was only one meaning to those words.
Callum was still alive.
I had fallen asleep in a chair in Rachelle’s bedchamber, morning rays of light waking me. As I sat up, I saw Tristen sitting alert in a chair across from me, keeping watch over both Rachelle and I, his dark hair messy and his eyes rung by dark circles.
“We have to go back,” I said without greeting or niceties.
Tristen’s gaze hardened. He knew exactly what I meant. “I know,” he said.
It was time to send a message to the gods.