Hosting the King #3
“Darling, you can tell me anything, don’t worry.” I try to reassure her, even though I’m still ignorant as to what has her in knots.
“I need you at my side,” she begins softly. “You make every day better, easier, more joyful.”
“I will always be here,” I swear to her. That was a promise I made long ago. Likely longer than I even admit to myself.
“I know. And you deserve to be recognized for all the help you give me. I want to give you a title.”
“A title?” I arch my brows. “I don’t need any titles.”
“But this one”—she taps the box for emphasis—“this one I want desperately to give you. Vena found this when she was searching for old records. It’s a relic, of course, from the Aviness family.
” Katria laughs softly, undoing the latches on the box with shaky hands.
Sure enough, the patina on the metal holding the box together makes it look ancient.
“It’s a title that can be given only by the king or queen. ”
She opens the box and my heart seizes. I am breathless. I had been expecting a medal, a sash—some signifier of counselor or chief adviser.
I had not been expecting a crown.
It is a slim, thinner version of the glass crown that sits on Katria’s brow. Clearly made by the same hand, but a more delicate rendition.
“Vena says it was the consort’s crown. There is no magic in it,” she adds hastily. “This is a position of respect, but I admit…no innate power.” She laughs nervously. “I’m sorry that I’ll still have to hold on to the Aviness magic I took from you in the woods.”
“You took nothing from me and gave me everything.” I pick up her hand with both of mine, cradle it. I look her right in the eye. “Katria, are you sure?”
“I have never been surer of anything in my life.”
“Are you ready for this, though?” I know how deep her wounds are—at least the ones she’s let me see.
There are others even deeper that I suspect not even her consciousness is aware of.
Wounds that will not be addressed until some unfortunate event dredges them to the forefront of her mind.
But whenever those wounds do surface, I will be there.
I will do everything in my power to see her happy, healthy, whole, loved.
“I am.” She flashes me a brilliant smile. “Will you be my king? Will you rule at my side forever more?”
“It would be my life’s joy.” I sweep her up in my arms. The distance between us is suddenly too great. I must have her body against mine. Her mouth on mine. My hands in her hair.
She laughs between kisses, pure joy escaping as a melodic sound. Bliss. I have never known such bliss as in my moments with this woman.
I pull away, caressing her face. “You know I would be at your side forever even if we never wed. I don’t need to be your husband in this world—in any world—to be faithful to you, love you, help and revere you.”
“I know.” Katria beams. “But I want you to be my husband. I want the world to know how much I love you.”
I kiss her again as soon as she says those three words. I know how hard they are for her, even still. And it makes them all the more special to hear. To know that she has given me such faith, such opportunity to show her how wonderful she is and how loved she can be.
“My future husband.” She purrs the words. “I’m looking forward to our next wedding.”
I laugh. “I’m looking forward to having a proper wedding.”
Before I can take her to the bed, there’s a pounding on the door. I let out a low growl at the person who would dare interrupt this moment, even if they are oblivious to it.
“Your Majesty,” Oren says from behind the door. “Apologies for interrupting you this late.”
“This had better be good,” I mutter.
Katria smirks. “I’ll see what he needs, and then I fully expect to pick up where we left off.”
I grab her by the waist and plant a firm kiss on her lips to promise just that.
She opens the door and engages in a brief discussion with Oren. I’m distracted by the crown. It’s gorgeous. I had given up on the idea of wearing a crown of the fae. Now I suspect that this crown will mean far more to me than the glass crown ever could.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that the door is closed and Oren gone by the time I notice her standing in the entry to the study with a hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes have gone wide with shock.
“What is it?” The joy begins to evaporate as I see shining tears collecting in her eyes. I rush over. I notice the seal on the letter she holds—a spiked crown on an embellishment of orchids. It takes me a moment to place whose crest it is.
No, it can’t be. It’s not possible.
“Katria—”
“We have to go to the southeastern mountains.” The words come out in a hasty, messy, and frantic rush. She looks up at me with shining eyes. “Eldas was wrong. The vampir. They’re alive. And they—they—”
I grab her shoulders and lock eyes with her. I’m here, I say silently, take your time.
“King Eldas said the vampir could see into the future. Is it true?” she demands.
I’m jarred by the sudden shift. “According to all the stories, but that was so long ago. I’ve never actually—”
“Then my father”—she chokes out the words—“I think he’s alive.”