Chapter Nine
Despite our best efforts, sleep did eventually find us.
It just didn’t keep me in its embrace for long.
Seeking Ryc’s warmth, I move closer, and he curls himself around me. He draws me close by my hip, pressing my back to his chest as he drapes his arm over my waist.
I catch the first bit of pink coloring the sky. It chases away the clinging darkness and shadow, revealing the first truth I discovered in this realm.
There’s color.
It isn’t gray all the time, as seen through the veil.
Resting my head against his shoulder as he tucks his other arm beneath me, I lose myself in the rise and fall of his chest. The slow, steady breathing, the warmth of his presence, the feel of him against me—it leaves me contented.
A sensation and state of mind I never experienced in the hells.
It’s too easy to grow addicted to this.
And I’m the kind of creature that will indulge.
“Good morn, little love,” he says, his voice a deep, sleep-riddled rumble.
“Good morn, my light,” I return, entwining my fingers with his to draw his hand up to the center of my chest.
We lie in silence, watching the horizon.
Light floods the sky with streaks of pale gold.
“What should I expect from the council during this meeting?” I ask, tightening my grasp on his hand.
Ryc chuckles, a slow, lazy sound. “Does your mind never rest?” I can hear the teasing smile in his tone.
“Not usually.” It’s an honest answer.
And to be fair, I’ve been awake for some time now.
Left with my thoughts while he dreamt.
“Well, it’s bound to be a circus,” Ryc replies. “As you saw last spring.”
I groan and he laughs.
“Ganus and Eloric will levy their reasoning, presenting their alleged evidence, opening it for argument and deliberation. After they’ve gotten what they want to say out of the way, it’ll come to a vote and Rowen’s Fate will be decided.”
A vote we’ve decided to sway before seeing evidence.
Ryc traces small circles below my collarbone with his thumb, drawing all of my attention to his touch.
“Who will you approach first?” I ask as my mind sears through potential kings.
“Darin,” he answers without hesitation. “The Sovereign King of Aeros.”
I remember him.
The ginger-haired fae with the lopsided grin.
“Perhaps consider not throwing him across a hall when you do,” I retort and a low laughter rumbles from Ryc’s chest.
“Darin will be easier to convince than Liran or even Oryn,” Ryc replies as I watch the muted colors of twilight grow more vibrant with the oncoming sun. “If we can secure them both, we’ll have majority.”
“And when I walk into the room? What happens then?”
I need to be prepared.
Scowls, scorn, and surprise are to be expected. But I need to know if I should prepare to fight. In a meeting with the Layer Lords, a fight is essentially guaranteed. But among these fae… I can’t say the same. Which… I’m not sure how that’s going to work sans an innate if it comes to that.
“Presenting you before the council in the same moment holds no direct bearing upon the trial,” Ryc answers. “But it will send a message to those we’ve approached.”
Yes. The message we’re united once again and ready to move forward in their obnoxious game of politics. That we’ll ascend far sooner than we’d planned.
Curling in, Ryc presses a kiss to my temple.
“What’s stopping them from changing course in the final hour?” I ask, the antics of the Layer Lords all too familiar.
“That is always a possibility,” Ryc relents. “But they would be risking bad blood with more than one Sovereign King.”
I scoff. “The council is nothing more than a prettier version of the Layer Lords.”
Ryc laughs, a sound of delight rather than bitter agreement. “Are you saying I’m pretty?” His arm tightens around me.
“Pompous, asinine fae. Of course that would be what you hear,” I mutter, despite the growing grin on my face. Turning away from the light in favor of a pair of fine gold eyes, I roll onto my other side. “What happens when we ascend?”
“So full of questions for so early in the morn,” he teases.
“You offered,” I counter and he gives a single slow nod.
“I did, and I’ll answer,” he says, smiling. “Once we ascend, we’ll no longer be Sovereign King and Queen of Erus.” He traces his fingers along my arm, causing my skin to pebble. “We’ll be High Emperor and Empress of Illa Ysari.”
My confusion returns and my brows crease.
“What in the hells is an Illa Ysari?”
Grinning like a fool, Ryc says, “It is a country, little love. Where we will be expected to reside as High Rulers.”
I scoff. “I know the countries of Eldoterra, Illa Ysari isn’t one of them.”
“I assure you, it is,” he grins his challenge. “It may be the smallest country in Eldoterra, but it holds the highest seat of power.”
“Where?” The question sounds more scathing than curious.
“In the north,” he replies, his eyes sparkling. “Illa Ysari lies amid a chain of islands in the Clarecier Bay.”
My mind races to recall all the maps of Eldoterra I’ve studied. While there is an archipelago off the northeastern coast, no map I’ve seen labels them as separate lands.
“They aren’t part of Erus?” I ask, still unconvinced.
He shakes his head. “No, they’re not.”
“Have you been?”
“Once,” he replies with a distant smile. “Following my ascension. The High Council is required to pledge an oath, one to protect Illa Ysari and our people.”
The oath Rowen stands accused of breaking.
“But the thrones sit empty,” I counter, confused. “Who are you pledging yourselves to? The thrones themselves?” My scrutiny runs sharp and swift.
“It felt that way,” Ryc answers with a quiet chuckle.
He brushes some of my hair away from my eyes, curling it behind my ear. For a time I sit in silence, listening to the morning birds and the steady, even beat of Ryc’s heart.
It’s hard to imagine traveling to some strange island to take on an oath… with the company of the High Council no less.
Finally, I ask, “Were you scared? When you ascended?”
“Yes,” he answers without hesitation, surprising me. “As Ryfon Witherhorn’s youngest son and a bastard born one no less, I was never intended to rule anything. A fact I was more than happy to embrace considering my lineage.”
Being Gaia’s progeny…
Of course he wouldn’t want eyes on him.
“Did your father know?”
With a smile, he shifts onto his back to stare up at the sky and I curl myself into him.
“He knew. Thalion and my stepmother didn’t,” he replies. “I think if she knew, she would’ve hated me more. I was a sore reminder of her husband’s infidelity.”
Before I can ask further on his stepmother, Ryc continues.
“Thalion’s death changed everything.” He lays a hand over mine in the center of his chest. “My life. Lilith’s life.
The life of Erus.” He takes a long pause, his lips working into a line.
“It was a change I was reluctant to accept. It felt easier to stick with what I knew, and leading a country was not something I knew.”
He wasn’t lying when he said he’s stood where I am.
“It came as no shock when the council decided Lilith could not remain Sovereign Queen,” he says.
My brows furrow. “Is she incapable of leading?”
He shakes his head. “Quite the opposite. She was much better for Erus than Thalion ever was or I could ever be. Politically, she’s gifted. Can foster alliances unlike anyone I’ve seen.”
“Why remove her?” I ask.
Wouldn’t the fae want the best for their people?
If the best is Lilith, why deny that?
“On the account she didn’t produce a Witherhorn heir,” he sounds disgusted. “I fought it. For as long as I could. Then the council threatened to remove the Witherhorn family from power,” he says with a scoff. “In the same manner the Grayflame family faces now.”
My breath hitches.
Ryc’s decision to ascend wasn’t much of a decision at all.
Just as mine isn’t.
“The personal importance of my life aside, I couldn’t let that happen to Lilith. Not after everything she’s endured. Not when stepping forward is all it would take to ensure she’s protected,” he says, braiding his fingers through mine.
He ascended to protect Lilith.
He’s too good a creature to be Fated to a demon like me.
“Your heart is showing, my light,” I say softly and he gives me a small smile. “Will it be Lilith who assumes Erus once we’ve ascended?”
“No,” he replies. “I promised Lilith a life free from the council and I plan on keeping it. A successor will have to be chosen.”
“Who?” My mind whirls through all the faceless lords I’ve seen come and go through the castle.
“I have someone in mind, but it’s not something we need consider right now,” he says softly. “I think you’ll agree come time.”
He’s right.
We’ve plenty to consider before then.
?????????????
As I approach the top of the second floor stairs, a voice—an angry, hushed voice—floats up from the grand foyer. Slowing to a stop, I peer around the corner and down the stairs. Whomever it is, they lie out of view. With a few silent steps, I perch myself near the top of the stairs.
And listen.
“It’s none of your concern.”
My brows crease.
That’s Eve.
The caustic bite in her tone isn’t one I’ve heard often.
A quick, covert peek over the banister reveals Eve and Lilith standing on the other side of the foyer, near the main entry. It’s hard to see most contextual details from here—such as the expression on Lilith’s face—but Eve…
She radiates fury.
Standing with her back to me, a hand perched on her hip, the other pointing fingers at Lilith, she continues to speak in low, hissing tones. Eve has at least six inches of height on me, and half that on Lilith, but right now she appears to tower over the Sovereign Queen Emeritus.
“Eve, it’s just—I know today’s—”
Lilith’s face turns to the right, as if she can feel my eyes upon her, and with expedited haste, I drop below the cover of the stone banister.
I don’t think she saw me, but… As I crouch on the top step holding my breath, waiting to hear Lilith call my name and expose the eavesdropper, a pair of silver clad-boots appear beside me.