17. Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
W hen I wake the next morning, feeling like something that’s been scraped off the sole of my boot, Tag is gone. I don’t have the energy to wonder where he went.
Maybe it’s a good thing he’s not around, because I stumble in a daze, desperately wondering when I’m going to wake from this nightmare. Father and Samis’s funerals are even worse, as everything seems to blur together, save for a few moments that seared into my memory: me, Emma, and Kenessa, sitting together, surrounded by courtiers with somber faces dressed in mourning, as Kerion extols Father’s virtues. A speech that I don’t remember writing and barely remember making. Gripping the pew I sit on so hard my hands hurt, I welcome the pain, because at least I feel something . Then doing it all over again the next day for Samis, and somehow it’s even worse this time, because he was the only brother I’ll ever have, because he was young, because he’s the one who should be king now, not me.
It’s only once the funerals are over that I fully come back to myself, and I almost wish I hadn’t, because I still can’t quite make myself believe that this is all real. Sometimes, for a fleeting moment, I forget they’re gone. But then reality crashes back a few seconds later, without fail. Each time it happens, the pain gets worse, like a wound that’s festering, rotting me from the inside out.
The council schedules my coronation for the day after Samis’s funeral, a day that begins with golden light streaming in through my windows, the same golden color as the crown that will soon be placed upon my head. I might think it’s a good omen if I hadn’t spent the entire night lying wide awake, unable to get anything resembling rest. A servant enters my room shortly after dawn, presumably to wake me. She seems surprised to find that I’m already awake. I don’t blame her.
Ten minutes later, my valet comes to help me get dressed. In any other situation, I’d think my outfit looks ridiculous—everything trimmed with royal purple, gold, silver, or some combination of the three, with a metallic sheen that reflects the light coming in through the window, to the point that I almost wonder if I’ll accidentally blind someone if I position myself the wrong way. But right now all I can think about is how it should be Samis here, not me. It should never have been me .
The coronation is held in the Throne Hall, a large room that takes up one wing of the palace and is named for the throne that sits on a grand pedestal towards one end of the room. The throne itself is rather plain—it’s made of glazed red oak, with a stylized wolf’s head painted in silver on the back. It’s been smoothed by the various kings and queens who have sat in it over the centuries, but when sunlight streams through the large soda-lime windows behind the throne, it glitters so much one could almost believe it’s actually made of gold.
It’s a throne fit for a king or queen. But when I take my seat, with the leading lords and ladies of Soeria, and whatever foreign dignitaries happen to be in Cedelia at the moment—including Arbois—seated before me, it feels wrong , like the world turned completely upside down when I wasn’t looking. I barely pay attention to Kerion—who, as High Chancellor, is in charge of running ceremonies like this and royal funerals—as he reads the formulaic words that have been passed down from before the time when Soeria was just another part of the Idrian Empire. Instead, I try my best not to break down and cry in front of everyone.
But then Kerion stops speaking and takes a small wooden box from a page, and I snap to attention. He walks toward me, his expression grim, pausing only to bow as he nears. “Your Majesty,” he says as he rises. He opens the box, revealing a golden crown within, resting on a blue satin pillow. Such a plain box for such an important thing . The crown itself is a golden monstrosity fashioned to look like a vine circlet, with flowers and leaves so detailed they almost look alive and embossed with two wolves howling at a full moon. “Do you, Darien Garros, affirm that you shall serve and protect the people of Soeria until your last breath?”
I swallow, my mouth dry. “I do.” It comes out as barely a whisper.
“Then by my authority as High Chancellor, I declare you King of Soeria.” He takes the crown out of the box and gently places the crown on my head, and in that moment, it feels like it weighs a hundred pounds.
The instant the crown touches my head, the audience shouts out, as one, “Long live the King!” Kerion signals to the crowd, and they start to come forward so they can kneel before me and swear fealty to Soeria. I stare out into the sea of faces, young and old, but I only have eyes for one, sitting all the way in the back of the hall, and even though Tag is far away I can see that his expression is one of unease and fear.
The time after my coronation is busy, busier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Just getting used to being king—a role I never imagined I’d be thrust into, even in my worst nightmares—takes up nearly all my energy. All of the little things that Father, and occasionally Samis, did without even thinking are completely new to me. During my first council meeting as king, the day after my coronation, a wave of unreality strikes me, like I should be literally anywhere other than here. It appears I’m not the only one—everyone in the palace seems to be on tenterhooks, waiting with bated breath for the other shoe to drop. At times, I feel like the tension in the air is so thick that it will suffocate me if I’m not careful.
With so many other things on my mind, it takes me a while to notice that Tag has been avoiding seeing me in private, since the night after Samis died. At first, I can rationalize his absence—it’s not like I’d have a ton of time for him anyway, and maybe he thinks I need some space to deal with my feelings. But as the days pass with no sign of him, I start to wonder whether he’s giving me space, or if he’s given up on me altogether. Either way, I can’t help but feel abandoned. Of course, Mother, Emma, and Kenessa are there for me, but they’re not exactly in the best of states themselves. Besides, none of them can replace Tag and the way he makes me feel better with just a touch or a smile.
I really do need him, because if there’s one thing the last few days have taught me, it’s that life is unpredictable. The only way I’m going to stay sane is to have someone I can count on by my side.
Finally, about a week after Samis died, I decide that I can wait no longer. I send a messenger to the Leara rooms before I can stop myself, with a message asking Tag to come to me as soon as he can.
He shows up in my rooms a short time later with a wary look on his face. “You wanted to see me, Darien?”
“I did. I know I’ve been busy recently, but I’ve missed you all the same. I just wanted to know if something’s wrong.” I pause. “Other than the obvious, I mean.”
“Darien…” He licks his lips, his gaze darting away from mine briefly before returning. “I didn’t want to trouble you while you were mourning. I just thought maybe you wanted some distance.”
“I appreciate that. Really, I mean it.” I try to sound as non-accusatory as possible. “But it’s not necessary anymore. I want to be with you.”
He starts to say something but hesitates, and my heart begins to sink.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Please tell me.”
He gives me a look of pure misery. “Can I sit down?” He gestures to the bed. I nod, and he perches on the edge of bed. I sit next to him, close enough that we’re almost touching, but still apart. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says once he’s settled. “I mean, everything’s wrong, but not between us. I just … Do you remember that picnic when we first started courting?”
“Of course.” I take his hand in mine and squeeze it, but he doesn’t reciprocate. “How could I forget it?”
“I know. It was a silly question.” He smiles for a moment that’s all too brief before it’s extinguished like a candle flame. “I told you then that even though I wanted to court you, I was hesitant because you were a prince. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to deal with the pressure, the spotlight being on me all the time.”
“I remember. I promised you that I’d do my best to keep that spotlight off you.”
He reaches out and cups my face in one hand. “You have,” he says softly. “You’ve done everything I asked of you, and I truly appreciate it. Maybe it wouldn’t be a problem if you were still just a prince. But now…”
He trails off, but I finish the sentence myself. “But now I’m the king, and there’s nobody else to absorb all the attention.”
He nods, and my heart plummets.
“Tag, I’m still the same person I was back then. I didn’t magically change into someone else when they put a crown on my head.”
“I know that. And you know that I really like you.” His eyes start to fill with tears, and I realize that mine have filled too. “But I’m just not sure if I can handle it.”
His words hit me like sledgehammers to my gut. “What do you mean you can’t handle it? What is there to handle? I’m the one who has to wear the crown for the rest of my life, not you!”
He jumps from the bed, as if to escape the heat in my voice, and walks a few feet away, his back to me. “I know, Darien! I know it’s not easy for you, and you have every right to be upset.” He turns to face me; his jaw is set, but the corners of his lips are quivering. “But don’t pretend like it’s easy to court a member of the royal family! Sure, you can make the council or whoever accept our courtship, but you can’t make them accept me , and you certainly can’t make them—or anyone—treat me with respect. Samis told me that when he and Kenessa started courting half the court was against it, and they seemed determined to make her life a living hell. And he was only the heir, not the king .”
“Samis told you that?” For a moment I feel something other than grief when I hear Samis’s name, but only until I remember that he’s gone, that I’ll never get to talk to him again. “I didn’t know the two of you ever spoke to each other without me there.”
“Of course we did,” Tag replies gently. “Not very often, but a few times. He never quite came out and said it, but it was clear he was trying to find out whether I’m good enough for you.” A solitary tear rolls down his cheek. “He cared about you, Darien. I guess he wanted to make sure that I do, too.”
I don’t even try to hold my tears back at that. I doubt I could if I wanted to. Promise me you won’t let anything come between you and Tag. You two are good for each other, and you’ll be happy together. Samis’s words take on a new significance. “Trust me, he liked you.” My voice is nearly as broken as my heart is. “If he was testing you, then you should know that you passed.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Tag’s cheeks are glistening. “But it doesn’t change the facts, Darien. I can’t stand the thought of everyone whispering behind my back, saying that I’m not good enough for you because I don’t have a fancy title.”
I’m on my feet before I know it, but he doesn’t flinch. “I need you,” I say softly. “I don’t know if I can do this without you.”
He looks even more miserable than before; it hurts me to see him this way, but I need to say what comes next, just like I need him.
“Tag, I love you.”
He looks at me, his beautiful, brown eyes meeting mine. “You’re not just saying that, are you? Do you really mean it?”
I open my mouth to tell him I do mean it, but he silences me with a hand to my chest. “Please,” he says. “I want you to be completely certain before you answer.”
I search my heart and mind for a shred of doubt and find absolutely none. “I mean it. I love you, and I want to be with you.”
He looks up at me for a second, then wraps his arms around me, his head pressed against my neck and chest. “I love you too, Darien. I really do, I promise.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “But I don’t know if I can be with you.”
I feel him sobbing, and I silently stroke his hair as he cries, like he did for me not too long ago. Tears stream down my cheeks too. Once his tears have stopped, I gently put a finger under his chin and lift his head, giving us direct eye contact. “Please, tell me what is it that bothers you about courting a king? Even if it won’t change anything, I want to know.”
He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs. “Alright. I’ll tell you. You deserve that much, at least.” He motions to the bed. “We should sit down. It’s a long story.”
We resume our seats, and he takes another deep breath before speaking. “When I was younger, maybe twelve or thirteen, my father’s sister and her husband, who was a Zeteyoni baron, died. My parents took in their daughter, my cousin Jena, who’s about a year older than me. She and I were close, but she never really got used to living in the country, so when she came of age, she asked my parents if she could go live with her father’s family at the Zeteyoni court in Osella. Not long after she got there, she fell for someone—his name was Alpere, and he was the son of a powerful Archduchess. Apparently, it took Alpere a good while to warm up to her, but once he did, they were inseparable. Eventually he proposed to her, and she said yes, so they went to ask his parents for their approval.” He shakes his head. “It … didn’t go well, to say the least. Jena never told me what exactly happened, but it’s clear that Alpere’s mother was vehemently against her son marrying the daughter of an undistinguished baron. She told them she would never give them her approval, forbade Jena from ever seeing her son again, and married her son off to some other woman that she found acceptable.
“But that wasn’t the worst of it. Alpere’s mother apparently decided to teach her a lesson, because Jena became a pariah at the court overnight. One day everyone treated her normally, and the next day they acted like she was the worst criminal to ever walk the earth. All of her friends deserted her without even a word, pretending like they’d never been friends in the first place, and she came back to our estate not long after. The whole thing broke her, Darien. I don’t want to say she never got over it, because she did, eventually, but she was never the same again. Even when she married a perfectly decent man from a family that lived nearby a few years later, she was still pining for Alpere.
“I love you, Darien, but I never want to go through what Jena did. I do know that the Zeteyoni court is far more obsessed with rank than this one, and that your mother is nothing like Alpere’s mother. Plus, you told me that Samis would be there to soak up all the attention. I’m sorry if that’s callous, but it’s true, and it’s why I was willing to give courting you a shot. But now that you’re king, there’s nobody to hide behind. We tried our best, and maybe we should just leave it there. I just don’t want everyone to think I’m some upstart, power-hungry foreigner who somehow managed to bring you under my spell. Do you really think the council would be happy if you told them that you want to court me instead of a prince or an archduke or something? Especially now—when everything is so uncertain?”
He falls silent, and I give him a moment before I put an arm around him and pull him close to me. “I can’t promise that everyone will be thrilled about us courting,” I reply quietly. “But I can promise you that as long as I’m king, you will be treated well at this court. If anyone shows you any disrespect, I’ll make sure it reflects badly on them, not you. Besides, the council may advise me, but ultimately, I am the king, and when it comes to whom I court, I get to make the final decision, not them.”
He lifts his head up, kisses me gently, and says, “Thank you, Darien,” before putting his head back where it was, next to my heart. “But what about Arbois? Aren’t you still courting him?”
I take a deep breath. I knew the subject would come up, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. “I don’t have a reason to anymore. I don’t want to throw away what you and I have, and that means Arbois is out.” I’m sure Arbois—and maybe even the council—won’t be happy with me, but somehow this feels … right, in a way that nothing else has recently. “I mean, I’m not going to throw him out of the palace or anything, but I don’t intend to marry him. Ever.”
Tag lifts his head up again, his eyebrows raised. “I suppose I’m not complaining, but what about the whole ‘Soeria needs another alliance’ thing? Can you really afford to just rebuff him like that?”
“Well … that’s the thing.” I swallow. “You’re right. I can’t just walk up to him and tell him to go home. I don’t know what’s going to happen with our alliance with Zeteyon now that Father’s dead. But if it is ended, I can’t just let Arbois walk away without coming to some sort of agreement with him. Either way, I need him to stick around until I find out what my uncle is thinking.”
Tag’s eyebrows lift even higher. “So … you’re not going to marry him, but you’re going to keep him around? And just hope you can convince him to make an alliance without marrying you?”
“It sounds bad when you say it like that, but yes.” I gently cup his face in one hand, lightly stroking one cheek with my thumb. “I promise you that I’m not going to spend one second more with him than absolutely necessary. No matter what, my mind and my heart will be with you. Always.”
Tag still looks unconvinced, and the desperation I was feeling before starts to come back. “Please, Tag. I know it’s not an ideal situation, but I don’t think I can do this without you.”
He looks at me for a long moment while my heart pounds furiously, the sound of my blood coursing through my veins almost deafening in the uncomfortable silence. “I … suppose I can put up with that,” he finally says.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “You’re in, then?”
“I’m in.” He kisses me, and I kiss him back just as deeply. “But, Darien, what if you can’t convince Arbois to make an agreement that doesn’t include him marrying you?”
I take his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. “Can we wait and see if that happens first? I don’t want to have another thing to worry about right now.”
“I guess that’s fine for now. I assume that if you’re going to pretend to court Arbois, our courtship needs to stay secret for the moment?”
“That’s right. Hopefully, I can make a deal with him quickly, and then we can make it official. Does that work for you?” I wait for him to nod. “I do have one request for you, though.”
He arches one eyebrow. “Oh? What is it?”
I take a second or two to think about how to phrase what I’m thinking. “Can we go back to sleeping in the same bed at night? I know you’re worried we’ll get caught, but I …” I’m starting to get choked up again. “I just feel so alone, especially at night. I know I’d feel better if I have you next to me.”
He leans forward, a sober expression on his beautiful face, and kisses me once, twice, three times. “Of course, my love,” he says, his voice as soft as eiderdown and gentle as silk. “I miss sleeping next to you.”
“Thank you, Tag.” I return his kiss, and he smiles sweetly at me. As he does, I feel a sense of deep relief and love for him. But there’s something else there, too, buried deep down yet there all the same. My love . Somehow, those two little words are the first ray of hope in what feels like a very long time.