70. The Weight of the Crown
~ MELEK ~
It had always bemused me the way war created work.
In the wake of a battle a defeated leader inevitably found themselves gathering what survivors remained and desperately trying to bring them to safety.
The surprise to me had always been the burden of victory.
The triumphant rank and file could walk away—riding the high of adrenaline that only life-and-death battle achieved—to celebrate their win and the fact that they were given another day to breathe.
But a winning leader would find themselves suddenly overrun.
Decisions were needed on how to treat and travel the injured.
Judgment calls must be made over who was to rest, and who must remain alert, guarding against spies or allies of the defeated enemy that may yet try to infiltrate.
There was a hierarchy to be affirmed—Officers promoted to replace the fallen, soldiers rewarded for demonstrating heroism, and recognition of courage in the ranks.
And always, a true leader’s mind turned to the immediate future.
The next step.
The next battle.
Avoiding the next defeat .
This battle was no different. As soon as the surviving Nephilim stopped screaming to prove to themselves that we were all still alive, Jann stepped up next to me, clapping a hand to my shoulder.
We embraced as the cheers subsided, but the hubbub didn’t die completely. Jann leaned into my ear to be heard over their continuing celebrations.
“The King’s tent is at the center of camp. I suggest you and Yilan move there immediately. Start as you mean to go on, Mel. Don’t give them time to reconsider or question.”
While it sickened me to think of sharing the space that Gault had occupied for so long, I also knew Jann was right.
When Yilan and Diadre released each other from their embrace, I took her hand and tipped my head.
Jann, Drek, Kran, and a handful of Officers I knew and had trusted on prior battlefields drew into a tight circle around us as we made our way through the crowd, towards the tents.
It wasn’t until we ducked inside the tent and the cheering settled into the joyful sound of celebrations that I noticed Hever wasn’t among them.
Jann was the last into the tent because he’d been wisely arranging guards.
Yilan had tipped heads with Diadre who seemed a touch pale and drawn.
I sent up a quick prayer that Diadre hadn’t been violated in the battle—a common practice among some of the more brutal Nephilim—and made a mental note to ask my mate what had happened.
But then Jann was at my side again. I scanned the tent and my breath grew tighter. “Find Gall,” I muttered. “I want to announce him as Heir, and appoint you General. We’ll need to do that in the morning.”
Jann grinned. “Well, when you ask like that, how could I refuse?”
I huffed, but my smiled faded quickly as I scanned the tent again to be sure. “Where’s Hever?”
Jann frowned. “He never did affirm you,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the tent again as well. “Perhaps the old fucker was finally taken down in the battle? I’ll have the scouts keep an eye out for him. We should have lists of the dead in the morning.”
I nodded. But before I could reply, my mate’s lovely voice echoed in my head and her hand slipped under my elbow .
‘That old fucker is not an ally. I caught him about to dart you in the middle of that second challenge. I was afraid I was too late. But… you’re fine, right?’ she asked silently, in my head.
Even after all the ways we’d connected, I still found her voice in my mind astounding. But I nodded.
“Hever?” I whispered. “You’re certain?”
She nodded, frowning. “Muttering to himself about you strutting… I was about to kill him when… when I got pulled away.”
I blinked. “Pulled away by who?”
In answer, she sent an image— Lucifer, his skin glowing like molten steel in a strange, impenetrable dark.
My heart stopped. “Yilan—!”
“Don’t worry. He was just talking, but… it’s going to be a problem, Melek. I think especially now…” she trailed off, looking around, and her grip on my arm grew tighter.
I took a deep breath, but nodded and patting her hand. “Don’t let him feed you fear,” I murmured. “You can’t kill him, so ignore him until he makes another showing.”
She nodded, but her face was pale.
I turned back to Jann to find him frowning back and forth between us. “What are you talking about?”
I glowered towards the tent flap. “Yilan caught Hever trying to dart me during the second fight. He’s not an ally—make certain the guards know that. If he’s found alive, have him brought to me.”
Jann nodded, but rubbed his chin. “It begs the question why he helped us get to you if he just wanted to kill you.”
“Precisely why I want to question him if we find him alive,” I growled.
The rest of the night was spent taking questions, making decisions, and planning my formal acknowledgement to claim to the crown. By the time dawn was close, things were calm enough to breathe.
“…I know it’s early, Melek, but you know this isn’t finished until you’ve gone to Valgorath. We need to be here to negotiate with the Fetch—I mean, Shadekin. But as soon as that is settled, you have to go home and establish the throne. You know that, right? ”
I had been crossing the tent to find a rag to clean my spears, and I stopped dead, turning to face Jann who was staring at me warily.
“What did you say?” Yilan asked sharply, launching out of the too-large seat along the wall.
“Valgorath,” I muttered, the hair on the back of my neck standing straight. The idea of taking Yilan, or any other female into that cesspit of a city while there was any question of my dominance made me want to snap my teeth.
“What about it?” Yilan asked, an edge of panic in her voice.
“Melek will take the crown because he’s taking the most powerful of the population with him,” Jann explained to her, his eyes flicking back and forth between us.
“We’ll send messengers, and the people will be informed.
But his reign won’t be truly secure until he’s stood in the temple in Valgorath to give his vows, and sat on the Great Throne to receive honor from the rest of the population.
The merchants in particular will have a great interesting making sure their King is… open to their needs,” Jann said dryly.
“They’ll bow, or they’ll lose their heads. It’s that simple,” I growled.
“Oh, they’ll bow—but not truly. Not until you stand over them with the might of the military at your back…” Jann grimaced and trailed off.
Unfortunately, our military might had been sorely reduced in that battle.
There were more Nephilim yet to join us, the smiths and servants and injured, the resting leaders and messengers—the small army of non-fighters that followed the larger one.
But some of them would be lost if they weren’t willing to resist the Fallen… and what then?
Was I just going to slaughter anyone who didn’t agree with me?
My heart went cold at the thought. Because I was King. Which meant I could.
Sensing my unease, and apparently correctly deducing it’s source, my mate slipped her hand under my arm again and squeezed.
“We’ll figure it out,” she murmured, eyes on mine. “I’m more concerned about Valgorath—how soon would you need to go? ”
We’d spoken about it once or twice. I’d told her once that I couldn’t wait to display her in the city, to call the Nephilim to roar for their Queen.
But I’d always envisioned that moment occurring after I’d firmly taken the throne. Imagined it in the context of a time of peace.
I hadn’t let my mind turn to the challenge of shifting the culture of my people who hadn’t seen battle, and who might easily decide to revolt, just as the warriors had.
The streets would run with blood. Our population would be decimated.
I couldn’t have Yilan in the middle of that—what if she got pregnant and—
The thought had come unbidden. A place I hadn’t even allowed my mind to go before now. But as I stood there, reeling, I wanted to slap sense into myself.
How was it possible I hadn’t thought this through?
The crown would not be mine until I stood in the Temple, and sat on the Great Throne.
But even those steps wouldn’t occur without political challenges and unease. It would be a battle of mind, rather than body. But no less risky. The commercial factions within Valgorath were just as brutal as their military counterparts. Murder between rivals was so commonplace as to be mundane.
If the leaders of any of the merchant unions were to decide that I was not their chosen King, they’d see Yilan as the swiftest route to my vulnerability—
“Melek!” Jann snapped.
I blinked and looked at him sharply, but my heart thumped.
“We have time,” he said soothingly. “I raised it because we have to move towards it—but it could be months, even years. We’ll send fliers with the news in the morning.
But it will be weeks before they reach the City.
No one there is going warn you that they plan to oppose you.
They’ll all play the game and pretend loyalty until they have to face you.
Its not a worry for today. Just… a thought for tomorrow. ”
I nodded, but I’d taken Yilan’s hand and was squeezing it in mine.
What if she got pregnant between now and then?
The thought of carrying her into Valgorath, heavy with child, made me want to roar with pride—and shriek with fear .
Successfully carrying the child of a Nephilim, particularly a dominant , would make her a prize above all prizes in the eyes of my people.
A prize worth fighting for in the eyes of the strong males.
I had to send her to Theynor if she got pregnant. There was no other answer.
But the thought of being separated from her by the entire Continent turned my blood cold and sent panic crackling through the bond.
“Melek—” Yilan gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.
“It only pains me to think of being separated from you, Love,” I muttered. “Don’t worry. Like Jann said… it’s a problem for tomorrow, not today.”
But her eyes were wide. She still had her hand pressed to her chest between her beautiful breasts. And the bond was throbbing.
I shook my head to discourage her focusing on the point. But as yet another runner begged entry to the tent with a message for the new king, and Jann muttered about males not able to take initiative and make their own fucking decisions, both of us leaned closer.
Minutes later the guard at the tent announced the scouts had returned, Gall had been found and was making his way to us, and everyone’s attention turned from us.
Swelling with relief that my son was safe, I slipped a hand up Yilan’s spine, letting my fingers slide into the hair at the nape of her neck, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
“My people, my son, my Queen,” I breathed. Her lower lip dropped slightly open because her breathing picked up. “We still have battles to fight, Love. But no matter what we face, you’re mine, Yilan.”
She nodded. She’d been biting her lip, waiting for Jann to confirm that Istral was also safe, but we both knew Gall wouldn’t be coming here if there was any chance Istral was in danger.
After a deep breath, she turned her head to smile up at me.
“Yes,” she breathed, then her smile broadened.
“But you aren’t the only one who gets to lay claim. ”
Her grip on my arm turned sharp, her nails clawing, pinching into my skin.
But I didn’t flinch.
‘That’s it, Beautiful. Hold on tight. We’re in this together,’ I thought with a smile .
But then my mate startled and her head jerked back, her eyes widening.
“What?” I asked quickly. “What is it?”
‘I heard you, Melek. It happened on the battlefield once, but I wasn’t sure… but… You just told me to hold on tight. We’re in this together… I heard you!’
We stared at each other for a long moment, but she smiled up at me with such joy, I couldn’t resist. Despite the audience, despite the murmur of servants and soldiers and messengers, I took her face in my hands and kissed her.
If we’d been alone, I would have taken her on the spot.
My beautiful, perfect, courageous mate.
Mine.