34. Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Four
N ever, in a thousand years, would I have thought that I would be so relieved to see Keuron’s tiled roofs looming over the horizon. The rising sun shines in my eyes, peeking through the gaps between the tall buildings.
I ride into the city and weave through the already busy streets, as if an unseeing force is at my back, driving me forward. Urgency powers me, despite the fatigue that’s long settled into my bones. I pull on Storm’s reins, slowing to a stop when I approach the drawbridge that separates High Keep from the rest of the city .
“You there,” the guard calls from atop the tower. “No one is to enter the castle, by order of His Majesty, the High King.”
I furrow my brow. Vorr must know how dire things are, if he’s barricaded himself in the castle.
My mouth twists. How can he hide in his tower, while his people suffer and die? Viridian must be furious.
“I am Crown Princess, Cryssa Thurdred Pelleveron Avanos.” My voice booms, amplified by my haste. “I have grave news, and I must see my husband immediately .”
The guard falls silent. There are hushed whispers I can’t make out and a shuffling of feet. Then, a voice rings out.
“You heard your future queen! Well, what are you waiting for? Open the gate!”
Briefly closing my eyes, I let out a breath in relief.
Lymseia.
The gate rises, lessening my anxiety—but only slightly. Lymseia dips her head to me in greeting when I pass, and I return the gesture to convey my gratitude.
She waves me off, as if to say, “ There’s no need to thank me.”
I snort. Typical Lymseia.
I ride to the main entrance and disembark, leaving Storm there. Without a moment to lose, I push through the double doors and move through the halls.
“Where is His Highness?” I call out, frantic, to any servant that might be nearby. “Where is my husband ?”
“The library,” someone says, pointing to the main staircase.
As if on command, my feet carry me up the stairs and through the halls, not once slowing down.
Until I see him.
In the main library, Viridian sits at a table, bent over a book and some loose parchment that’s scattered in front of him. He doesn’t notice me at first, engrossed in whatever it is that’s captured his attention.
I step inside, the sound of my breathing the only noise I make.
Startled, Viridian lifts his head. His long face brightens when he sees me, as if a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Instantly, he rises from his chair and closes the gap between us, taking long, purposeful strides.
“You came back,” he breathes, a hand reaching out to gently cup my face.
“Of course I did.” My eyes meet his, and it’s so easy to lose myself in them. “How could I not?”
My words seem to melt his expression. He looks at me with a mix of pure joy and wondrous surprise, as if he never thought it possible that I could want this.
That I could want him.
I raise my hand to cover his, pressing his palm into my cheek.
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracks and threatens to break. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I promise. And I mean it. Guilt rises up into my chest. “I should be the one apologizing.”
“And I would tell you the same thing you just told me.” The tenderness I hear in his words wraps around me, softer than even the gentlest caress. “You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all.”
I search his features, looking for any hint of anger, any trace of resentment.
But I find none.
He stares back at me for a moment, his face telling me everything words can’t. I hope—no, I know—that my expression does the same. His thumb brushes my cheek, fingers grazing my chin. Then his gaze breaks from mine, falling to my arm.
His brows knit together. Roaring fires blaze in his amber eyes, like a spark catching dry grass.
“Who did this to you?”
Arching a brow, I look down at my arm, following his line of sight. Bruises circle my forearm where Loren’s fingers met my skin.
“It’s nothing,” I tell him, lowering my arm.
“Little Fawn,” Viridian grumbles in warning. “Tell me who’s responsible.”
“We were arguing. Loren, he—”
Viridian growls. “I’ll kill him.”
“No!” I shout. “No, you won’t. I’m fine.”
But he doesn’t seem to hear me .
“Viridian,” I demand, turning his face to mine. “Look at me. I’m all right. I’m here, with you. I chose you. ”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he dips his head and touches his forehead to mine, wrapping his arms around me.
“I love you,” he breathes. “Gods, I love you.”
“And I love you,” I tell him. It feels so good to say it out loud. Now, I want to say it a million more times, just to see how it makes his face light up again and again. “More than anything.”
Taking my face in his hands, he crushes his lips to mine. The kiss lights a spark inside me, drawing me in.
“More than anything,” he repeats.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
“Viridian,” I say, when we pull away. My voice turns deathly serious. “The situation out there—it’s so much worse than we could have ever imagined. The horrors I saw…” My lips draw back when I cringe, the image of Hylmfirth fresh in my mind, like a raw wound.
“That’s what I feared.” His tone is as grave as mine. Heavy. There’s something he’s not telling me. But before I can ask, his expression shifts and he changes the subject. “Your father is stable?”
“Yes,” I say, gathering my thoughts. “Viridian, there’s so much we need to talk about.”
“I know, and I want to hear about everything—your family, what you’ve seen. But only after you rest and bathe. You’ve had a long journey.” Placing his hands on both my shoulders, he gives me a light squeeze. “This can wait a night.”
“But—” I protest.
“Please, Cryssa,” he begs, and it weakens whatever willingness to fight I have left. “Don’t neglect your own well-being. I’ve only just gotten you back.”
I sigh. He’s right, and I know it. “All right.”
Viridian nods, still holding my gaze. “I’ll have Tiffy bring a hot meal to your chamber. She’s been worried sick about you.”
My heart swells.
Tiffy. I’ve missed her.
Viridian presses a kiss to my forehead before nudging me forward. “Go. I’ll be waiting for you.”
S omehow, the tub is already filled with hot water when I get to my chamber. Though, the room is empty, save for me. Lymseia must have sent for someone to run my bath when I arrived at the gate.
Peeling my sweat-stained dress from my body, I leave it in a heap on the floor of my washroom. I lower myself into the tub, the hot water already soothing my aching muscles. I scrub my arms with soap until my skin is free of dirt, oil, and sweat. Lifting my fingers to my scalp, I slowly work the soap into my hair next. When I’m done, I sink lower into the tub and lay back, so all but my face is submerged.
I revel in the silence. Closing my eyes, I take long, deep breaths that fill my lungs.
Now that the adrenaline that’s been powering me is gone, my limbs feel heavy with exhaustion. As does my mind.
I soak like that until I hear my chamber door open.
“Your Highness?” Tiffy calls.
It takes me a moment to realize that she’s calling for me.
“In here,” I reply, shifting into a sitting position.
Metal clanks—the dinner cart, most likely—and then Tiffy appears in the doorway. Her scrunched face relaxes when she sees me, lips spreading into a wide smile. She picks up a towel and unfurls it, holding it up for me.
I stand and step over the tub, and then Tiffy wraps the towel around my dripping body. She takes another towel to my hair, wringing it out. Once I’m dry, she drapes my dressing robe around my shoulders and fastens it around my waist.
Ushering me out of the washroom, Tiffy clicks her tongue.
“You look so thin,” she tells me, fussing like a mother hen. “Come, eat. The kitchens reopened just for you. Oh! And I made you some tea.”
I sit at the end of my bed, and Tiffy rolls the cart with my dinner right up to me. She watches me intently as I pick up my fork and knife, only visibly letting go of the tension in her shoulders when I take my first bite.
“I’ve missed you, too, Tiffy,” I say in between bites .
That seems to melt her expression. She bends down and pulls me into an embrace. “I didn’t know where you’d gone, or if you’d ever return.”
I frown slightly into her shoulder. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
She pulls away. “There’s no need.” Her voice slows. “I heard about your father. How is he?”
“Stable, for now.” Worry creeps into my stomach.
Hopefully, I have enough time to save him.
To save all of them.
“The gods will watch over him, Your Highness,” Tiffy assures me, patting my arm. “He’ll recover. You’ll see.”
I nod and take a sip of tea.
“Well,” Tiffy says, brushing off her skirts. “I imagine you’ve had a long journey and need your rest. I’ll leave you to it.”
I offer her a small smile. “Thank you, Tiffy. For everything.”
She smiles. “Of course.”
With that, she slips from my chamber, gently closing the door behind her.
Chewing slowly, savoring every bite, I finish my dinner and drain my tea. Standing, I push the cart away from my bed, leaving it up against the far wall so it’s out of the way.
I sit at my vanity table and run my fingers through my tangled hair. Working through the knots, I manage to tame my auburn mane and weave it into a single braid that falls over my shoulder.
As I’m finishing my braid, a soft knock sounds at my door.
A sense of calm washes over me.
“Come in,” I call, knowing who waits outside.