Chapter 11
Robe.
Hair.
Ceremonial paint.
Honeysuckle crown.
I kept my eyes closed, taking in the moment while my pack prepared me for the evening. Many times, I watched my father undergo the same treatment.
Robe.
Braided hair.
Equinox paint.
Ceremonial crown.
He had longer hair, like Nash, so his had to be styled. He and my mother had been paired before he became king, so he never had this ceremonial paint while I grew up. And he’d opted not to remarry when my mother passed.
This was all new for me.
My eyes had been shadowed by the paint. The dark line cut across my face from cheekbone to cheekbone. The royal lineage painted straight across my face. My heart drummed as a purple-robed Seer painted a rune on my forehead, a vertical line with five crossbars.
The Yew tree.
Grief.
Ancestral memory.
The Seer painted another rune on my chin. A vertical line with a single horizontal line right through the center.
The Spruce tree.
Divine Light.
Happiness.
He then added smaller decorative lines, dots, and symbols to my pale face.
When they finished my ceremonial paint, they placed a crown of honeysuckle on my head, nestled like every other crown I’d worn. It held my hair out of my face and carried so much meaning.
Pure happiness and tenderness.
It was time for Sarva, the ancestral Festival of Kings.
“Are you nervous?” Caroline whispered, the solemnity of the evening weighing heavy in her words as she straightened my robe around the neckline. Her hair had been braided, a dainty crown of willow adorning her head, and a single stripe had been painted across her face like mine. She looped her arm through mine as we stood before the wooden door leading out of my room and into Guardian’s Glade.
I nodded but didn’t reply.
I didn’t trust my voice.
I knew this day would come for me. The day my father died, this became my role. I mourned the loss of Silas, of the previous me, and put on the robe of a king.
Thiswas who I became: King of Arcadia.
And kings were assigned their life mate, a partner to share in the grief of losing the previous king and the responsibilities of running a kingdom.
I walked through my mind, lining up all the eligible women in our pack. Which one my father would choose for me, I couldn’t say. I hadn’t been close with any of them in particular. And even if I had been before my father died, people stopped coming around after I assumed his role as king.
In Arcadia, my closest friends were Caroline, Elder Macon, and Markus. No one else really called on me anymore.
I thought of our two friends, Andra and Archer, in Lukosan, wondering if they would’ve attended had I thought to send for them. Nash had mentioned them, but with everything else tumbling through my thoughts, I’d forgotten. Maybe Father would have chosen Andra for me to marry, uniting two packs.
The door opened and Caroline accompanied me out of my room into Guardian’s Glade where my people awaited my arrival. Lanterns flickered around the walls, illuminating the throne room with a warm yellow glow. Elder Macon addressed the crowd from the aisle, his staff by his side, blue ghost beetles lighting the top of it. He turned to smile at us before returning to the telling of history. I saw the elder tree rune painted on his forehead.
The symbol itself resembled the yew tree symbol on my forehead, but the crossbars on the Elder’s forehead were slanted.
Life and death.
Transition.
Lines of men and women and children stood in a crowd listening to the Elder, split down the middle by an aisle of stone. Nash stood at the front of the crowd, a smaller, barren crown of branches adorning his head and a single stripe of paint across his eyes matching mine and Caroline’s.
And next to him, Eden.
She was dazzling—despite the darkening hue of the evening—in her new historian robe, a deep blue gilded with magic, like a galaxy of stars and her face painted with delicate black markings. In the center of her forehead, a single vertical line with a small curl connected to the center on the right side of the line.
Honeysuckle.
Pure happiness.
Tenderness.
I bit my tongue and turned away. Several other of the young women had the mark of the honeysuckle.
The realization of the marking hit me like a rushing waterfall:The Seers included Eden in the pairing ceremony.
Never in my lifetime, nor at any point in the virlukos history had a human been present for the Festival of Kings. Which meant that never, in all of our history, had a human participated in the matching ceremony.
I inhaled, holding the breath in my throat. I bit my tongue in the attempt to keep myself calm.
Surely, it’s for show. To put her at ease.
But Seers didn’t follow logic. They followed their inner eye, a gift from the Other Realm where the Spirits slept.
What do they know that they aren’t telling me?
I turned back to Eden, noticing her curly hair pulled back in a braided crown, bits of spruce tucked between the plaits. A few strands fell to frame her face, which positively beamed. She watched me, and I stared back.
“What do you see in her?” Caroline whispered.
“Nothing,” I replied a little too fast.
“Liar.” I could hear the smugness in her voice.
I cleared my throat. “Truth be told, I see that they’ve included her in the matching.”
“Markus came by this afternoon and asked if she wanted to be included. Eden said yes. Are you upset?”
I tore my eyes away from Eden, turning to face Caroline. A small frown hid at the corner of her lips.
“I’m confused… and nervous.”
“Out of our pack, is there someone you’d pick for yourself?” Her brow furrowed as she turned only her eyes to scan the crowd.
I licked my lips, my mouth dry. “I’ve never allowed myself to dream like that. I would’ve only experienced heartbreak.”
Caroline smiled, pity evident in her expression. “Not even in other packs? Not even Lukosan?”
I hesitated. At one point, I might’ve thought of Andra that way, a potential partner in this duty as Alpha, as King. But I shook my head. “I did wonder why I hadn’t invited Andra and Archer tonight. Nash asked me, too. I guess it wasn’t in the stars.”
She sighed. “No point in lamenting now. You’ll know your mate soon.”
“Too soon.” I straightened my shoulders. “Remind me what I’m supposed to do again. My brain has gone blank.”
Caroline chuckled. “Go sit. You’ll remember what to do.”
With a small bow, Caroline left the dais and joined my brother and our human guest among the crowd. I assumed my seat on the throne.
Watching Eden stare up at the Elder in wonder, I imagined what it would be like if things weren’t so tense between us. We’d started off on the wrong paw. She’d proven to be helpful and hardworking while prepping for Sarva. She had a certain courage about her that I didn’t expect. And I found myself struggling to look away from her bear cub eyes.
Lycaon, help me. This girl has messed with my head.
I straightened again, willing myself to focus.
The Elder stepped onto the dais with all the grace of someone who had lived for so long, his violet robe swooping behind him. My father had been King for the changing of Elders, and I was a pup. I remembered the ceremony taking place, though I’m sure I was bored with the ritual side of things.
This Elder, Elder Macon, had been like a second father to me the past year, like a grandfather all the other years before that.
“Rise, young King.” His brittle voice boomed over the utter silence enveloping the glade.
I stood, staring straight ahead while Elder Macon addressed the crowd. “In accordance with our centuries-old custom, the first autumnal equinox after the heir apparent is twenty years of age, a pairing is made. This Sarva is a bit different from tradition since we lost our noble King nigh on a year ago. May his spirit find peace among trees.” He bowed his head, and each person repeated the solemn words, then he gestured to me. “But before the celebrations commence, our good King Silas will lead us to the Aisle of Kings, where King Iain and those who preceded will rise for the evening.” Elder Macon smiled, drawing his hands together, clasped at his midsection. “I ask for your silence while we enter this momentous time in our people’s history.” He turned to me again. “My king?”
I stepped down onto the stone path leading out of Guardian’s Glade. Every eye followed me, then footsteps beginning with the Elder and the front row where the royal family stood.
I led my people through our forest to the Aisle of Kings. The blue-lit beetles were already awake, all of them spread out amongst the balanced stone graves. I walked down the long aisle to my father’s stones.
Turning back to Elder Macon, I caught his eye. With a nod, he turned to our people, raising his arms high above his head, his long sleeves sliding down his arm. People spread out around the forest and among the graves in earnest silence. Nash stood between Caroline and Eden, the latter of which looked enamored by the sacred space.
A smile crept to my lips.
Humans, so fascinated by the little things.
The smile faded from my lips.
A human.
I wondered if Eden knew her attending this ceremony meant she’d been included in the pack. That there was a chance that she could become Queen of Arcadia, however small that possibility may be.
I turned to the Elder, who lowered his hands.
He muttered words from the Ancient Tongue before we adopted the common speech of this region. The blue beetles lifted high into the air, lighting up the glade in a fierce azure, casting everyone in a dim glow.
I only caught a few of the Elder’s words.
Cara… Friend.
Veime… Long past.
Bene… Thank you.
Vanni… Goodbye.
The beetles rose and drifted down the path to the entrance of the Aisle of Kings where the very first balanced stones stood, marking the deaths of the ancient virlukos from centuries past. The light grew as wolves from the Other Realm trod down the path, glimmers of history breathing our air again.
Something moved from my father’s grave, the beetles buzzing around the balancing stones—the stones I balanced. The light from the insects and Spirits cast a moody blue over the forest, an ethereal atmosphere sliding into my lungs as I breathed the same air of our kings.
I held my breath when a form emerged from the precarious stack over my parents’ grave, swirling to life in front of me. Though cast in the Spirit shades of cerulean, I knew my father’s eyes anywhere.
Steel.
Like the frosty grass in the winter.
The sky when it rained.
Fish scales slipping through the rivers.
Father.
I took a deep, shuddered breath as my throat tightened with emotion. My vision swam, and his gaze pierced mine. Those eyes captivated me, frozen.
“My son.”
His voice wasn’t audible, but it stirred in my memory like someone speaking through the pack connection.
He bowed to me. He seemed proud.
Beside him, another glimmer emerged from the standing stones next to my father’s. A female alpha shook herself into being, blinking in the darkness. With an affection I could only dream of, she nuzzled my father.
Mother.
With a soft nudge, my father moved past me and meandered through the crowd with my mother and other countless Spirits. I sidled up to Elder Macon, who put an arm around my shoulder.
My father—King Iain—slipped under my sister’s arm and circled Nash, nudging his other son with his muzzle. Nash’s tears reflected in the bright blue hue of our father.
My heart pinched. I hadn’t thought of how difficult it would be for him, seeing our father like this. Nash had missed so much when he’d been gone. His grief was fresh, palpable, heavy.
Next to Nash, Eden held her arms close to her. Her lip trembled, and tears slid down her cheek.
Countless faces among the crowd smiled and sniffled in the peaceful night. The forest knew a momentous thing occurred, the near-constant breeze dying down to a rustle. I noticed many of my people wiping away tears while their beloved King made his way through the crowd, greeting his people one at a time.
Oh Lycaon, how could I be so blind to their pain?
After an eternity of praying that he’d look at me again, he turned his head back. Those steel eyes caught mine, a glint of something unrecognizable in them.
One day, I’d join him. I’d return to my grieving people, a Spirit from the stones. I would walk among my people to comfort their hurting souls.
But today was my pairing.
Today, it was me being comforted.
Mother circled Father and sat next to him. She seemed so content, different from the past celebration of kings when she’d seemed dim and lonely. Her life partner had gone home to her, crossed to the Other Realm, and sat with her forevermore in peaceful rest.
I wondered if the person my father chose to be my partner would ever love me with that much ferocity.
Father turned, eyes scanning over the crowd. Not nervous or sad, he gazed over the many painted faces. He moved seemingly without purpose between people and trees. He circled around, coming back to my mother who nuzzled him again. With a determined stance, my father moved closer and bowed low in front of Eden.
Elder Macon’s arm slipped from my shoulder, eyes catching my own. Nash went pale, snapping his head to Caroline, who clutched Eden’s hand.
Holy silva.
A human.
Elder Macon cleared his throat, swallowing hard. “My child,” he murmured, waving Eden over with his right hand, left hand still clutching the blue-lit staff.
Eden hesitated, eye’s finding my father, who had righted himself once again. “Iain,” she whispered.
“Welcome to the pack, daughter,”he said, though his lips did not move.
In that instant, something shifted. Eden’s face froze, lips parted. She had to have heard him in her head, the pack communication.
Lycaon, no.
This was all a huge misunderstanding, and it would clear up as soon as I could speak to my father alone.
All around me, howls erupted from the ancient kings, causing chills to run down my spine. The howls resounded and echoed in the still forest. The night felt colder than it should have, given the warmth of magic in our forest.
A human.
Eden’s eyes lifted to mine.
She must be terrified. Does she know what just happened?
Memories of the day before sprouted in my head. I remembered her tension, her fear coursing through her veins. I had felt it in her pulse.
She stepped forward, dropping Caroline’s hand and taking the Elder’s outstretched one. He smiled like this was normal, drawing her to his right side as I stood on his left. But my body went numb.
Shocked. Trapped in disbelief.
“Wolves of Arcadia,” he said, “your new Queen.”
Another resounding howl from the Spirits, this time accompanied by calls from the stunned people of my kingdom.
Elder Macon patted Eden’s hand with his own. “May you reign with a wolf spirit and the mind of a protector.”
Eden paled and wavered where she stood as my people dropped their robes, phasing into their wolf forms.
The Elder placed her left hand in my right and stepped back.
“May Sarva commence!”