Chapter Twenty-Five
It doesn’t take long for the foyer to empty.
Leaving deafening silence challenged by my pounding heart.
The guards posted at the door step outside and swing the doors shut, severing the bright stream of light.
This is it.
This is what I’ve chosen.
It’s time I step into my choice with everything I have and everything I am. Eve’s offer to run… would have tempted me were I the same scared and desperate creature who stalked the hells.
Things have changed.
I’ve changed.
I never belonged to the hells.
I belong here.
My transition to this realm, to this life, hasn’t been easy nor seamless. That’s no one’s fault but my own. I recognize that. And with as much as I’ve changed, more change is yet to come. With any luck, it will all be for the better.
The sound of his footsteps cuts through the silence and offer a slower, steadier pace than that of my heart. Forcing myself to breathe, I peer over the banister.
He strides directly below, his black cloak billowing behind him as he walks toward the bottom of the staircase and my silly little racing heart freezes.
Upon his brow sits a silver crown, a slip of moonlight against the midnight of his hair.
He peers over his shoulder, as if he can feel my stare, and golden eyes dart to mine.
And the universe ceases to exist.
The world could be turning to ash, burning in hellfire, and it wouldn’t be enough for me to look away. Stopping, he turns, the expression on his face one of sheer awe.
I have never looked upon Ryc and thought nyraphim.
Not without his wings.
I do now.
How can anyone fail to see the heavenly creature walking among them?
How did I never see it before?
It’s not the black tailored suit he wears. Nor is it the touches of silver ivy embroidered on his collar and cuff. It’s not the glittering, onyx-encrusted crown or the trailing cloak lined in silver silk.
It’s the way he looks at me.
The way he sees me as if nothing else could ever matter.
A nyraphim unafraid to love darkness.
He vanishes in a flash of light and in the same instant, I’m pulled into his embrace. One I’m eager enough to accept. A hand curls behind my neck, the other falling onto my hip.
“My queen, my love, my eternity,” he says, his velvet voice a low rumble. “You render me in awe.”
I place a hand over his heart.
It beats as wildly as mine beneath my palm.
“Good,” I whisper.
With a small laugh, he leaves a soft kiss upon my cheek.
Not enough.
My lips crash into his, demanding more. And he gives it—his tongue greets mine in slow and languid brushes and tastes. Too quickly I’m rendered drunk and at risk of melting in his arms. My fingers curl into his shirt, keeping him close.
He’s become an obsession—and he knows it.
Heavy with reluctance, I draw back.
“The castle has seen enough of us in the last day,” I say, laughing.
“Later then,” he replies, the words racing along my spine.
“Keep the cloak,” I add.
His eyes sparkle with amusement. “The cloak? Not the crown?” A dark brow arches.
“The crown does nothing for me,” I reply with a small shrug.
“But the cloak?”
“But the cloak,” I say, my voice low as I leave a lingering kiss on the corner of his lips.
“Done,” he laughs as he sweeps me into his arms, lifting me off my feet.
Laughing as he makes lightwork of the stairs I would have struggled with, he sets me upon my feet at the bottom. He offers me his arm.
“I have a request,” I say, refraining from taking the offer.
His brows crease. “It’s yours,” he says without hesitation.
Always the damned fool.
“I’d like to stop there.” I point to the office door. “All the mirrors in my quarters were covered. I never got the chance to see my own reflection.”
“Well, we’re already breaking one tradition today. What’s another?” he returns with a growing smile.
It’s my turn for brows to crease.
“A Sovereign King and Queen typically reserve the first viewing for their people. We were expected to see each other for the first time today in their company,” he explains as I take his arm. He laughs as we cross the foyer. “I wasn’t going to wait to see you.”
Tearing my eyes from the tables and arches of flowers and ferns to his, he offers me a breath-stealing smile.
“But why cover mirrors?” I ask.
“It’s a gesture of trust,” he says. “Your people strive to do right by you, just as you do the same for them.”
Again with your people.
Who, in all parameters of the word, are my people after today. Along with Ryc, I’ll be responsible for their health, safety, and ability to prosper—even if it’s for a short time.
I halt before the office door, shaking my head.
I trust Oraphia. Her skills are nothing short of magic.
I trust Eve to have noted anything out of place.
And lastly, I trust Ryc and the look of awe upon his face moments ago.
“Alright, fine,” I say, my voice firm. “I’m open to upholding this tradition.”
With a soft laugh and a stunning smile, Ryc nods. “Then Erus waits to meet you.”
?????????????
Several attendants titter about in a strangely silent whirlwind. They pick and preen at our attire, our hair, how my hand rests upon Ryc’s arm. Normally, I would be bothered. Irritated, even.
Not today.
Closed darkwood doors lie ahead, a single muffled voice speaking beyond them. Lilith’s, I realize.
“Right here, with me, always.” Ryc’s voice rings softly in my mind, reminding me of the night we met.
I lift my gaze to his. “Always, my light.”
As Lilith’s voice stops, the doors swing open, revealing the vast sea of faces turned in our direction. Ryc places a hand over mine, giving it a gentle squeeze as my ribs tighten.
Looking past them, straight down the center of the aisle, Lilith stands upon the dais, a beaming smile upon her face. Also clad in black, her crimson hair blazes against her ivory skin. Between her hands, she clutches a black pillow, upon it a crown.
A crown identical to the one resting upon Ryc’s brow.
Unlike the foyer, there’s no decadent display of florals. By comparison, the throne room lies barren giving little feature to anything outside the hundreds of faces and the pair of thrones behind Lilith.
Two tall darkwood seats, side by side, illuminated by the towering stained glass window behind them. Vines and ivy, the night sky and stars, cast the far end of the room in an ethereal blue glow.
Together, Ryc and I move.
Toward Lilith.
Through the center of the room.
And despite the silence, there’s an excited energy. Smiles on faces, shining eyes… no low whispers, no shifting gazes. Heads and chins dip as we pass—a respect that doesn’t feel forced.
Eve steps forward on my right as Cyran, across the aisle, emerges on the left. Cyran, as I expected, wears his full suit of gleaming silver armor, helmet, black cloak, weapons and all.
Ascending the steps onto the dais, Ryc turns to me, taking my hands in his. Lilith begins to speak, but her words are lost to the sound of my pounding heart in my ears. The room shifts and people take their seats.
Warmth and pride seep through our bond into my chest and I lift my eyes to Ryc.
“The start of our forever,” he says.
I smile. “The start of our forever was three centuries ago. You plagued my dreams until I met you in person.”
His smile becomes a smirk. “What can I say? I’m memorable.”
The fight in resisting the urge to scoff is monumental—disrupted by Lilith lifting the crown overhead. She places it upon my brow with a gentle touch, and my chest heaves. It’s lighter than expected, but then again… I’ve been carrying its weight upon my shoulders for months now.
Lilith ushers us to face the crowd as she steps back.
Keeping my hand in his, Ryc’s fingers part to lace in mine.
For the first time, I dare to look directly upon the faces staring at me.
So many here… so few I recognize. Mostly lords and ladies I’ve seen in passing through the castle. No one I’ve held any conversation with.
To my surprise, three in the front stand out.
Rowen.
Fenryn.
Darin.
Three Sovereign Kings who dare ally themselves with a demon. A demon now given the power of the largest fae country in Eldoterra. They harbor the faith I’ll prove to be the leader their kind needs.
May their faith not be ill-placed.
“Long live our Sovereign King and Queen of Erus,” Lilith proclaims, her joyous voice ringing out. “Alaryc and Vestaris Witherhorn.”
The room explodes with sound.
Cheers, whistles, clapping, shouted praise shatter the buzzing silence. It grows thunderous, vibrating in the center of my chest. And above it all, Eve’s wild cheers ring loudest.
Ryc pulls me against him, burying a hand in my hair as he lowers his lips to mine. In an instant, the room falls away, and he consumes the entirety of the universe. The taste of him is enough to leave me among the stars and I match his eagerness to drink with my own, clinging to him.
Unhindered.
Unbridled.
Unburdened, I melt into him, not wanting to lose his attention.
Fenryn roars some bawdy comment I half hear, and laughter spreads through the throne room. With a small laugh, Ryc breaks our kiss, and pulls me upright. He glances toward the crowd, and I do the same. Faces alight with jubilation stare back at me.
I can no longer remain the creature who lurks in the dark, unseen.
Even if I wanted to, Fate has other plans.
She’s thrust me before an entire country where the number of watching eyes grows each passing day.
I’ve been given a place in which my actions can inspire or threaten, and my words build or destroy.
It’s a terrifying and difficult thing… finding one’s place in the world.
Gods know I failed in the hells.
I cannot fail here.
I will not.
Turning, I lift my chin, meeting Ryc’s admiring eyes. The golden gaze I’ve grown to adore and love and crave. My success won’t be because of him.
Not entirely.
He’s encouraged me to grow like no other I’ve known.
I’ve much to learn still.
But I know one thing for certain.
I will not fail because I refuse to fail myself.
So yes… long live, I shall.