Chapter Twenty-Eight- Duty #2
He relaxes against me, his legs on either side of my hips, and I hold him tight. I keep him against me, safe. Mine.
“They say that what Phoenix did cursed all Shadowfall love stories to be tragedies,” he murmurs. I stiffen.
“Then we shall give them a tragedy worth remembering, Princeling.”
I kiss him hard because if this is to be a tragedy, I’ll willingly walk into ruin with him.
The next morning finds us entangled in one another, sleeping deeply in an attempt to keep the day at bay.
I am to be crowned King. The thought sends a thrill through me. Both apprehension and intrigue intermingle to shove away the fear about Thorne’s decision. What either decision could mean.
“Let’s go, you two!” It’s Reese who bangs on Thorne’s door.
He groans and shoves his head further under the pillows. I rub his back gently and watch the goosebumps arrive in the wake of my fingers.
“We’ll be out in a minute!” I call back.
“King Zephyr of Frostguard awaits Thorne in the South Wing’s state room,” is all he says and I hear his footsteps retreating.
Thorne and I let out a sigh at the same time.
“Any advice about how I should address the kingdom?” I ask him, trying to make conversation as he drags his clothes on like a prisoner being led to execution.
“Be transparent, they aren’t used to that.” He pushes his hand through his hair to give it that signature messy look of his.
I nod at him and he throws me a black tunic with his scent on it. It feels like the answer to what destiny has in store for us, an admission of his decision. It feels like a goodbye.
I pull the soft garment on and pull him into me, hugging him tight enough to imprint him into me.
“Make the decision that’s right for you,” I kiss him hard. He returns in kind before resting his forehead on mine with a small nod.
“Harrow Darkbloom, King and Heir-killer, will address the people of Netherhelm following the commencement of Prince Thorne’s audience with King Zephyr of Frostguard!” It’s Lord Holt who makes the announcement and I realize he was conveniently absent from yesterday’s events.
I shake off the thought, for now. If Reese trusts him, so do I. I grip the paper in my hands containing my hastily scribbled notes.
Thorne has been in his meeting for over an hour, leaving me alone and trembling. The Black Lantern guards will ensure his safety. He will ensure his safety. Because I am to be crowned King, I am not to be part of the conversation in that room.
Thorne finds me some time later, in the throne room. Reese and Lord Holt prepare me for my ascension.
His shoulders slump, bearing the weight of the decision that has been placed on him. Perhaps bearing the weight of the decision he has already made.
He meets me on the dais, where King Dreven would never let him stand.
But he deserves to be here, to be seen. Every one of the Black Lanterns in the room watches on in rapt anticipation.
Loyal knights, warriors, and nobility stand in the shadows.
Waiting for the next chapter in their lives, the next order.
“I have chosen to go to Frostguard,” Thorne declares, the words seeming strangled in his throat. His lip trembles and he looks down.
“Never bow your head,” I tilt his chin up so he looks at me. “I know you must do this.”
It’s true. He needs to prevent war, yes. Now that King Zephyr’s heir is dead, he will not stop coming for Thorne no matter what. Prince Caelthar’s pointless war will become everything to King Zephyr.
But more than that, he needs a chance to learn who he is, to know his true sire, to learn the ways of Glacian Magic.
In Frostguard, he will be the one true heir and he will be treated as such.
He will have everything he deserves. Then one day, he will be King.
A just and formidable King, at that. Perhaps even dreadful at times.
I would love to see his cruel brilliance upon the throne of Frostguard.
I knew that he would choose to spare more Netherhelm lives by giving himself over to King Zephyr.
Free of one king, claimed by another. I bite my tongue.
This does nothing to stop the border disputes being fought in the Wastelands, that war will always rage on as they try to push further into our territory.
Especially as Terramora and Incendria keep getting involved.
But this stops a war from coming to our home, to Netherhelm proper.
He has accepted his fate.
“I’m sorry, Serpent,” Thorne kisses me deeply and turns from me. Black Lanterns bow their heads in respect to him.
This parting spells the end of us, the end of this. We are to be on opposite sides of a war raged for centuries. Perhaps we can end it, perhaps we will exacerbate it. Our loyalties to our people will be questioned, for our love is now out in the open.
I place a hand on his shoulder.
“I will love you always. Come what may,” I vow.
Thorne deep into my souls, his eyes brimming with tears.
“This duty may have me, but the truest parts of me will always be yours, Harrow,” he rasps.
Then he turns from me one final time, and my knees weaken, threatening to give way. Reese places a hand on my shoulder.
Somewhere, Crowley lets out a mighty caw of despair at the sight of his mate departing on Thorne’s shoulder.
I watch his silver hair and familiar frame fade from view. I don’t move. I can’t move. This loss is so deep, so profound that I’m scared to speak. Surely, speaking will disrupt the sleep of the Titans and my sorrow will raise them—angry and vengeful—from their slumber.