Chapter Thirty-Six Ingrid
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ingrid
“I’m not able to get you closer than this,” the Dealmaker says as my feet find purchase on the frosty ground outside Crownwood’s gates.
Frost? Dread washes over me.
What’s happened while I’ve been gone?
“Thank you for getting me this far,” I say, sending a look past the Dealmaker to his mate. I’m not privy to the finer details of how this whole deal is supposed to work out, but Serenity told me not to worry about it, that she’d handle things with Anumar.
With the suggestive tone she used, I didn’t ask more questions.
Truthfully, I’ve got bigger concerns on my mind.
Starting with why the gate appears to be unmanned and wide open. I didn’t anticipate I’d have any trouble gaining entrance to Crownwood, but I wasn’t expecting it to be open to the public like this.
Something’s not right.
I look up to the ramparts—also seemingly deserted.
My stomach sinks.
Xandril, what have you done?
I can only imagine the kind of reckless choices he might have made in my absence. Sending the guard to the border? Abdicating the throne?
No. He wouldn’t. He won’t give up on this reach any more than I will.
“Stop yer whinin’,” says a demon with an unusual accent.
I press myself into the closest shadows, holding my breath as the group of soldiers walks by. Not the king’s guard. Not Emerald Wardens.
“Once the Calessevans are on the throne, the earl’ll be made duke for his part. You know the kind of wages a duke’s sword earns?”
“Yeah,” says another soldier with the same accent. “S’long as you don’t screw up, you’ll be in the king’s guard next. Easiest post in the reach,” he says, spitting toward me as they pass.
The Calessevans are after the throne?
I’m honestly not surprised. They’re entitled enough to think it’s theirs. That’s not the part that has me worried. How did they get one over on Xandril?
What have they done to him?
Sticking to the shadows, I skirt along the perimeter of the wall while I formulate a plan. It’s not much, but I don’t have time to think of anything better, and the moment I’m close enough to smell the stables, I feel a little more confident about it.
“Your High—” Visri starts to greet me, but I hold a hand over his mouth, pushing him into the stables before we can be spotted by the intruders.
“Grab as many of the others as you can. Pick up anything you might be able to use as a weapon, then gather anyone you can find in the kitchens and tell them the same. Meet me at the throne room.”
Visri’s eyes are wide as I make my list of demands, but he’s calm when I remove my hand.
“What is this about?” he asks, following me as I move to Brightstar’s stall.
“I don’t have time to explain. You’re going to have to trust me. Try not to be seen,” I say, tying a lead to Brightstar after letting them snuffle my hand. “The king needs us.”
I don’t know if it’s instincts, common sense, or some lingering connection I have to Crownwood that tells me I need to go to the throne room, I just follow it without question. Even if Xandril’s not there, I can’t let the Calessevans take the throne.
Our throne.
I have to take a longer route to the throne room to avoid being seen with Brightstar—Xandril’s men would never be so oblivious; these invaders should be ashamed—so Visri’s gathered mob isn’t far behind by the time I reach the large double doors.
My heart swells to see the assembly of stablehands and cooks wielding the tools of their craft: pitchforks, knives, heavy pots and pans, hammers and rope. An army of the castle’s making.
Turning to Brightstar, I rub the velvet at the tip of their snout, leaning in close. “As the future queen’s steed, you should know how to make an entrance,” I say, reaching under their front leg to tickle the spot that makes them thrash their head.
Brightstar bursts into the throne room tusks first, the doors exploding in a shower of splinters while the ifrak’s heavy footsteps make the ground tremble.
The duke and duchess are startled by the intrusion, but then the duchess’s sharp features morph into a cruel smile. She turns back to Xandril laughing.
“This is your resistance?” she laughs, gesturing back. “Your clueless human and her half-grown ifrak? You’re even more pathetic than we thought.”
Across the room, my eyes meet Xandril’s. His are dark at first, but I stare a little longer, I can’t help myself, and I see the faintest glow deep within.
He’s still in there.
I want to race past the Calessevans and leap into his arms. Apologize for leaving without explanation. For leaving at all.
Instead, I keep my feet planted. I glance back to the hallway behind Brightstar, and Visri’s sober expression is all I need to see to know they’re with me. Ready for whatever I’m about to lead them into.
Lifting my chin, I return the duchess’s cold look, knuckles white where they’re gripping Brightstar’s lead.
“That’s not all he has,” I say, tugging the ifrak out of the way to reveal the mob waiting outside the room.
Xandril’s eyes find me again, flaring brighter even while he wrestles with confusion. He sees me, he sees them. And then I mouth the word that makes his heat erupt.
‘Fight.’
The moment he decides to fight back, his fires burn, and the throne tree responds, roots shooting up from the ground to restrain the traitors.
It’s all over very quickly once Xandril decides to put up a fight. Of course it is—these two cowards are no match for the Emerald King, even on his worst day.
“You came back,” he says, disbelieving even while I’m wrapping my arms around him.
“Of course I did. I was a fool to leave you. My brother made me realize… I think I’ve spent so much of my life simply trying to stay afloat, fighting against the current to keep it from whisking me away…
I never considered there might be another way.
But you showed me my life can be so much more,” I say, heart aching with how badly I need him to understand.
“We can be so much more, together. We can do more than fight the current. Together, we can change the course of the river. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.
I’m sorry I ever left, but I couldn’t stay away.
I love you too much. Even more than I love this reach and all the wonderful people and creatures within it. ”
Xandril looks down at me, his warmth radiating through me while his hand rests on the side of my face, claws threaded through my hair. The tenderness in his expression says everything that he cannot.
“You came back,” he repeats.
“And you kept fighting,” I answer, smiling up at him.
His arms tighten around me, lifting me up into a kiss that makes the staff hoot and cheer. My face burns with embarrassment, and I can’t help laughing, but Xandril keeps kissing me and I’m in no hurry to make him stop.
I lean up, pressing back into him, deepening the kiss. He wants to give them a show? Two can play this game. Let’s see who gets more bashful first.
Xandril grumbles something, muttering about getting me alone, when the crowd turns quiet. No more whoops and chuckles, now it’s murmurs and hushed whispers. It’s enough to cut through my giddy haze, and I break away from the kiss to look back, confused.
“Look up,” Xandril says, a smile in his voice even if it’s not on his lips.
The branches of the throne tree are no longer bare. In the time since we started kissing, dozens—maybe hundreds—of small pink blossoms have sprouted, petals opening right before our eyes.
“What—?”
“Halemercy,” Xandril says, pulling me against him so my back is to his chest and we can both admire the flowers together. He leans down and presses a warm kiss to the side of my head, his lips lingering by my ear when he adds, “It’s back because of you.”