Chapter 35 #2
“Vel’tar neth morvain,” I whisper. The shadows twist and bend, until they form a delicate circlet of shadowstone threaded with veins of deep purple.
Small points of silver light spark to life within the dark material, concentrated lightning held in shadow-forged metal.
The room falls into an awed silence as I craft it before their eyes.
Standing, I turn to Ellie and hold out one hand. Confusion flickers across her face, but she places her fingers in mine, and I draw her forward until she’s standing in front of me.
“Kneel.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Kneel.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. I lift an eyebrow. I could explain what is happening, but I know her. If I tell her my plan, she’ll push back. So, instead, I wait.
For half a second, I’m convinced she’s going to argue about it, then she slowly lowers herself onto her knees, her gown pooling around her.
I raise the circlet. “You who stand here, you witnessed the liberation of this city. You saw who was responsible for the assault that broke Authority control. You saw who commanded the Veinbloods and Veinwardens who retook Ashenvale. Now I ask you to witness this.”
I hold the circlet between both hands above Ellie’s head. “By the strength of your courage, by the power of your storm, by the bond that unites us and as decreed by prophecy.” I lower the circlet onto her hair. “I name you Varel et’Arvath, Elowen, High Consort of Meridian.”
Ellie gasps, one hand flying to her temple as the circlet settles into place with a resonance that seems to echo through the room itself.
Shadow and silver light pulse from both our forms, visible to everyone present. The stillness that follows is absolute. No one moves. No one speaks. I’m not entirely sure anyone is breathing.
“Rise, Mel’shira, and take your place at my side as my chosen Princess.” I guide her to her feet, then turn her to face the crowd.
Vorith, the Windvein master who sent dreams to guide our path, moves to the foot of the dais and drops to one knee.
“My Vareth’el. My Lady Consort. House Windvein offers fealty.”
The formal words break the spell that seems to be holding the room still, and everyone in the room drops to their knees, fists over hearts, repeating her words of loyalty given.
The cheers that follow have a different quality now, not only of celebration but anticipation. These people understand that true victory requires more than reclaiming a single city, and with a Shadowvein Lord back on the throne, they’re ready to follow wherever this war leads next.
As the formal ceremony gives way to celebration, servants appear bringing in tables laden with food and drink. Musicians take position in one corner, and the throne room fills with the sound of music I haven’t heard in years.
I move through the crowd with Ellie at my side, accepting congratulations and brief conversations.
Everyone wants a slice of attention, a chance to introduce themselves and pledge their loyalty more intimately.
Food and wine are shared, conversations grow animated, and for the first time in untold years, the throne room is filled with laughter and celebration.
Ellie remains quiet beside me, her fingers occasionally touching the circlet on her head, processing what I’ve done …
if she even understands the significance of it.
When space is cleared in the center of the room, I turn to her. “Dance with me?”
She takes my hand and we move to the center of the floor. The musicians—Veinbloods who combine magic with instruments—strike up a traditional melody as we dance.
“You could have warned me.” Her voice is low as I lead her through the steps. “A crown, Sacha? Making me your consort in front of everyone!”
“And ruin the surprise?” I pull her closer, enjoying the way her cheeks flush and her eyes flash. “You looked perfect when you realized what was happening.”
“I looked like an idiot who had no idea what was going on.”
“You looked every inch a High Princess.” My hand settles on her hip. “Which is exactly what you are now.”
She stumbles slightly at that. “Wait … does that mean we’re married now?”
“It does.” I steady her, guiding her back into the rhythm. “Especially when you’re wearing a crown I made specifically for you. In front of witnesses. And you accepted.”
Her eyes narrow. “You planned this.”
“From the moment I decided I wasn’t going to let you go.” The admission slips out before I can stop it.
She stares up at me, lips slightly parted. “Sacha …”
“Too late for second thoughts now.” I spin her gently before drawing her back against me. “You’re stuck with me.” Another spin. “And the crown.” A third spin. “And the title.”
Her palms land against my chest as I pull her back into my arms. “What if I don’t want to be stuck with you?”
“Then you shouldn’t have agreed to wear my crown.”
Her eyes narrow, the silver flecks flaring to life. “I wasn’t exactly given a choice in the matter.”
“You always have a choice. You could have refused to kneel. You were going to. I could see it in your eyes.”
“In front of everyone?”
“Yes.”
She glares up at me. I smirk, and send a tendril of shadow beneath her skirts. She gasps as it slides up her inner thigh and slips past her undergarments, stroking against her before pushing its way inside.
“Sacha!” Her face turns crimson and she grips my shoulder, trying to hold onto her composure while the shadow moves inside her.
I lower my head until my lips brush against her ear. “Tell me again, Mel’shira, how you don’t want to be stuck with me.”