Chapter Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Seven
I’m too shocked to move for several seconds. I keep staring down, waiting for him to sprout wings and fly back up, waiting to see a Butcher dodging to the shadows to save the king. Or waiting to see a man resembling Boltov somehow magically run off into the distance.
But nothing happens and my grip is going to give out if I wait any longer. I reach for the next window ledge and climb until I pull myself over the broken glass and back into the room. Panting, I wrap my arms all the way around myself, reaching for my back.
That memory.
My memory?
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to expunge it from my mind.
No, no, no, no, a scared girl who still lives in me screams, don’t think about it.
Push it down. It makes no sense. I’m tired.
I was near death. I’m in a world that my human mind can barely comprehend.
The memories retreat, sinking back into the depths they tried to surface from.
That day was one of the worst days of my life, but it wasn’t that bad.
It’s all in my head, as Joyce would say.
I push myself up off the ground, go back down through the passage, and emerge into a much quieter main hall. The fighting has ended. The remaining Butchers have been rounded up and are ringed by familiar fae like captives of war.
Davien is with Vena in the center of the room. The fiery magic has faded from around him, but he still has a faintly glowing aura. His eyes meet mine.
“Katria.” My name sounds like pure bliss on his lips as he heaves a sigh of relief.
He rushes over, cups my face with his hands, and, without warning, in front of everyone, kisses me on the mouth.
Just like that, the world vanishes for a blissful moment.
There is only him, the feeling of his lips on mine, the way his breath tickles the hair by my ear—it’s all more perfect than I remember it.
When he finally pulls away, I’m left stunned and wanting.
“Davien,” I whisper softly, my eyes darting around the room. “Everyone…”
“I don’t care.” He presses his forehead to mine. “Let them see. Let them all see that their king loves the woman who saved his kingdom.”
I shut my eyes as tightly as possible, wishing that this moment would never end. That the world was uncomplicated and I could remain by his side. But things are not simple. My soul is as murky as the shadows that usually surround the Butchers’ necks.
“That was not the fate we were dealt, though,” I whisper only for him. “And your kingdom still needs to be saved.”
“We have won.” Davien pulls away and looks at the dais. His eyes widen as he no doubt realizes that Boltov isn’t where he was left. “What the—”
“Boltov is dead. I killed him.”
“You?” he breathes.
I tell him what transpired while they were fighting off the Butchers in the main hall. “…And then he fell.”
Davien releases me and looks over his shoulder. “Shaye, to me.” Shaye sprints over and Davien quickly summarizes what I just told him.
“I will lead a search party, Your Majesty. I will not rest until I have brought you his body.” She races out of the main hall.
“Before there are any more distractions, I think there is an important matter for you to attend to, Your Majesty,” Vena says, holding out the crown.
Davien turns to me. “I would like you to do it.”
“What? Me?” I glance from him to Vena. Boltov’s words about the crown are still fresh in my mind. “I don’t think—”
“There’s no one else I want to do this. The fae are saved because of you.” Davien takes my hands. “Please, if nothing else, do it for me.”
“All right,” I say weakly. Vena hands me the crown.
I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
Even though it is made of glass, it’s warm to the touch and even the jagged-looking edges feel smooth.
I see light shimmering from within, a haze similar to what was underneath the waters of the Lake of Anointing.
Davien kneels before me, looking up expectantly. I swallow thickly. Boltov was lying, surely. He was in a desperate position. Yet…This feels wrong; something’s not right. I push the thoughts from my mind. I hold the crown over Davien’s waiting head.
“At long last,” Vena says softly. I lower the crown to Davien’s brow and release it. “All hail—” Vena’s words catch in her throat as the crown careens off Davien’s head with a spark of magic and bounces to the floor as we all stare in shock.
“What does this mean?” I hear Oren ask.
Davien is too stunned to say anything right away.
He stares at the crown in disbelief, as though it has somehow betrayed him.
I want to wrap him up, hide and console him.
I want to scream at the crown for daring to make the man who has stolen my heart hurt in this way.
I want to kill Boltov a second time for being right.
“It means…I am not the true heir,” Davien finally says.
“But the bloodlines…you were the last. By marriage, but…” Vena mumbles, hardly coherent. “We were certain…there is no other. And you have the power.”
“But there is someone else out there who is more fit for the throne than I. There must be an Aviness by blood and not just marriage.” Davien stands, looking older and wearier than I have ever seen him.
Yet somehow, he manages to hold his head high.
“So I will lead until this person can be found and assume their rightful throne. The search begins tomorrow.”
Night has turned to day, and yet I am somehow still awake.
I feel like it has been a century since I had a good night’s rest. Davien stands before the dais, Vena on one side of him and me on the other, as he begins to organize the fae under his new regime.
There are countless matters that must be attended to, and they all blur together as the hours drag on.
The hall before me has been transformed thanks to the hands of the people of Dreamsong, and the courtiers who returned to the castle are all too glad to be rid of the Boltovs.
Throughout the hall are pennons bearing the Aviness seal—a star atop a silhouette glass crown done in silver and set on a navy background, all of it circled by white lilies.
I stare up at them, bleary-eyed. I think I’ve seen that symbol somewhere before, but I have no idea where. I shake my head and rub my temples. It was probably in Dreamsong. Or I’m just so tired that my mind is playing tricks on me, like it did when I nearly fell to my death.
That’s the most likely explanation.
“Katria,” Davien says softly. I blink, wondering when he moved in front of me. “You should go rest.”
“I’m all right.”
“You don’t have to be strong for me.” He tilts his head and gives me a smile. “You’ve done more than enough.”
“I was hoping that I might…” I trail off.
He’s so busy. He’s the king now—at least the temporary one, until the real blood heir of Aviness can be found.
And I’m no one. Even though he kissed me in front of everyone.
Even if I helped him save the fae…I’ll be no one soon enough.
I’ll have to go back to the Natural World, the Withering is certain to claim me soon enough, and at best I will be a line in a bard’s epic.
“You might?”
I open my mouth to speak but Oren approaches. “Your Majesty, we found the remaining banners deep in the vaults. Would you like them hung up along the main road of the High Court?”
“Yes.” Davien stays focused on me. “What are you hoping for?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Whatever you desire is not ‘nothing’ to me.”
“I just wanted a moment with you…alone.” So much has happened over the past few days since we were parted that it doesn’t feel real that he’s here with me now—that he’s safe.
He went from chains to battle to ruling in a whirlwind.
And other than a kiss, we haven’t had a moment to ourselves.
His brow softens slightly, mouth relaxing from the hard line of a king and into a smile I know. “It is not important,” I say.
“Vena, I’m going to retire for a few hours. Bring anything urgent to me, but for minor matters, I authorize you to act in my stead while I’m gone.”
“You really don’t have to do this,” I protest, though not with conviction. I desperately want him to do this. So much that I feel a touch guilty.
He ignores me and takes my hand. “Oren, is there a room that I and the Lady Katria might rest in?”
“Certainly.” Oren smiles and bows his head. “I think I know of an unused guest room that was spotted as we were looking for the old relics of Aviness. I can lead you to it.”
“Please do.”
“Davien, they need you. I can just go lie down for an hour and—”
In the midst of my objection, he hoists me up with both hands and cradles me in his arms. I don’t miss the curious glances of the courtiers who have been lingering in the main hall, watching their new king settle into his rule.
I wonder what they think of me, if I am already the king’s human concubine in their gossip.
“Perhaps you’re not the only one who wants to steal a moment for just the two of us.” He gives me a sly smile, oblivious to my insecurities, and follows Oren out of the main hall.
We’re led in a different direction than I went the last time I explored the castle. Instead of to the right, we head left. There are bare patches on the walls where I assume Boltov tapestries were once hung, waiting to be filled with new pieces of artwork.
Oren opens a door to reveal a comfortable-looking bedroom. “Will this do?”
“Wonderfully. See that we’re not disturbed unless it’s urgent.”
“Most certainly.” Oren bows his head and closes the door.
I’m instantly aware of how alone we suddenly are. Just like I am aware of every beat of his heart through the tattered shirt he wears. We hover in the center of the room, him holding me, and me just looking up into his eyes. Wordlessly, he takes me to the bed and lays me down.