Chapter 85
Allie
“You really think Lioran will debase himself with actual effort and put his own life at risk?” I asked as Ryker and I finally retreated to our rooms.
I wanted to wash the battle and ash off my skin and silence Lioran’s words still slithering in my ear.
But I knew they would haunt me until the world was right once more.
As soon as Silas took the throne, he tried to make a pact with the Northern Clans.
Abominations.
A darkness has taken hold of him.
“Either he spies and gets us more information or he spends the rest of his days down in the dungeon,” Ryker said.
“You mean with a roof over his head, water, three meals a day, and warriors guarding him?” I huffed. “Sounds like torture.”
“For a man so consumed with pride and the sound of his own voice, it is.” Ryker opened the door to my room for me to step inside. “Wait until the wine pangs hit.”
“That’s just it–” I walked in, gesturing as wildly as I always felt the need to, but restrained myself.
Not in front of Ryker, though. For some inexplicable reason, he liked me when I was too much or unreasonable or when I laughed at the weirdest moments. “–time is not on our side. Especially now that–”
I was halfway across the room when I noticed Ryker wasn’t by my side. I turned, only to see him leaning against one side of the doorframe, hands crossed, looking at me.
I steadied my hands on my hips. “You want me to ask, don’t you?”
He sighed dramatically, a playful glimmer in his eyes that only I was privy to. “As always, I don’t want to intrude on your space.”
I rolled my eyes, just as playfully, and marched toward the door between our rooms, opening it wide. “Our room. Our space.”
An open smile lit up his exhausted face.
But he still didn’t move, the bastard.
“Come in.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want to ask you something.”
That instantly propelled him into motion. In three quick strides, he’d closed the door without a sound, and he was right in front of me.
“Ask away,” he said.
I took a deep, centering breath, heart pattering faster. Harder.
What I wanted would not be easy.
Gods, I didn’t even know if it was possible.
But I wanted it.
Under his curious gaze, I walked to the armoire and opened the narrowest door. Rows upon rows of clothes I hadn’t looked at twice greeted me.
What lay underneath them was what mattered.
I kneeled down, sore fingers digging into the wooden bottom I’d secretly dislodged so many moons ago. My bloodied dress from Evie’s first wedding waited underneath, a reminder of why I was doing this.
I gently tucked it to the side, hand delving deeper into the darkness, to retrieve the one thing which had been haunting me every night and every day.
“Remember what I told you before you left for war?” I whispered as my fingers caressed the steel.
The shift in the room was instant.
The playful energy had vanished, replaced with the unmistakable sense of inevitability.
“Yes,” he said. “I keep my promises. And you have my utmost devotion, no matter where this takes us.”
I hadn’t realized it, but I needed to hear him say that.
Not an oath drenched in blood, but one forged in trust.
The last tendrils of tension left my shoulders.
Slowly, I uncovered the Protectorate crown.
Its sharp metal spires glistened in the light filtering in through the windows, as if greeting me.
I kept staring down at it, my reflection determined, but nervous.
“No matter what it says, you are the true heir to the Protectorate throne,” Ryker muttered gently.
My thumb caressed the cold metal for the longest time. Ryker gave me the space to wrestle my thoughts into submission.
All the doubts.
All the fears.
All of them had to pale in comparison to hope.
I stood up and walked in front of the mirror, my power stirring deep inside of me.
Excited.
Apprehensive.
Curious.
The woman staring back at me wasn’t the same one who’d woken up in a strange land, surrounded by her former enemies.
Blood and ash still marred my skin and clothes, but my gaze held a quiet, patient determination which hadn’t been there before.
Ryker came to stand behind me in silent support, placing his hand on the small of my back.
We didn’t need words right now.
We would stand by each other, no matter what other battles we had to face.
My palms shook against the steel which carried so many responsibilities.
Whether I was ready to carry them all or not, they no longer settled like a dark cloud on my shoulders.
I knew why I had to fight.
Not because of duty or expectations.
Because I wanted a different Malhaven.
One devoid of senseless violence and secrets traded in the shadows for which the innocent paid.
The time of man’s greed and lust leading this world would be over.
I raised the crown above my head, a gulp trapped in my throat.
Like before, I closed my eyes as I lowered the steel onto my head.
I had to believe I was worthy of the crown before anyone else–and for all the lives I would save, I was.
Better than Beren.
More self-sacrificing than Silas.
Heroic instead of a heartless heir.
Ryker gasped before I dared look at myself.
Slowly, I opened my eyes. My heart swelled as I saw myself in the mirror, same as a minute ago.
Only now, my reflection was illuminated by the crown.
The symbols blazed to life in one powerful line, from the top of my head up the highest spire.
The light wasn’t perfectly blue or perfectly silver.
It was trapped somewhere between them, with small glimmers of purple at the edges.
The Protectorate crown had not only accepted me. It had molded its power to my very essence.
With it, I could command the Protectorate army.
I could take back what was stolen.
The Protectorate civilians might have been lied into forsaking me.
But I didn’t forsake them.
“I need your help,” I said.
Out loud, so the entire world could hear this.
Ryker’s eyes met mine in the mirror. “Always.”
“I will reclaim my throne.”