Chapter 42
Election
Eloise
Resurrecting Phantom is easier than I expect.
We find the dragon’s spine in the Borderlands where I remember falling, and Maeve uses her magic to call to the dragon’s other bones.
It’s a bit eerie to see parts of the skeleton walk themselves back into place, but I’m thankful for the help.
Once the beast is reassembled, I reach for my grandmother’s hand.
She must be waiting for me in the Darklands because I feel her essence immediately and the swing of the pendulum to return her and the others to Phantom’s body feels almost effortless.
Or maybe it’s just because I’ve done this twice before.
My heart swells with pure joy as my ancestors fill out the body of the dragon and roar back into existence.
Afterward, we return to the castle, and I gather Cassius and the vampires, thanking each of them profusely for their help.
I draw the key symbol on the floor of the library and send them all home after promise after promise to Maeve that I will visit more regularly.
As I watch her and the others pass through the purple light, I’m determined to keep that promise.
Friends like Maeve come along once in a lifetime if we’re lucky.
We may not be related, but she is family. I don’t take that for granted.
You’re the key, darling. You can visit her whenever you’d like, Phantom says. I wipe my tears and hold on to that truth.
When it’s done, I wash the key symbol from the floor and then make my way to the throne room.
There’s a line to reach the ballot box. At the front, I’m handed a quill and parchment, and my name is stricken from a list in an enormous book.
I scrawl “Damien Hymir” and then drop it into the box, praying that it falls on a pile of similar ballots.
The days drip by like cool honey. Damien and I eat and drink and rest and make love as if we have no idea that the results of this election could change our lives forever.
It’s a happy time, with people coming and going peacefully to place their votes, stopping only to talk to us about what efforts are happening to revitalize their communities.
Nyxadora and Karyl take up residence in their old rooms, knowing that their stay might be short-lived but relishing their last chance to experience what was once home.
Jaqual moves in as well, to oversee the process. He still doesn’t trust Damien not to cheat, although Percy, Thane, Undaku, and Prandle take turns guarding the box.
On the day the votes are to be counted, Jaqual funnels to my side as I wait impatiently on the veranda, watching Phantom hunt in the distance.
“You can stay, you know,” he says out of the blue.
I glance over at his bright-purple eyes to find his lips curled in a ghost of a smile. “Stay where?”
“Here, in the castle, if I win,” he says. “I don’t plan to live here. It’s too big. I miss my wagon.” He rests his hands on the banister and stares up at the swell of the moon.
At first, I think he’s joking, but when he doesn’t laugh, I say, “Thank you. I’m not from here, but I know for Nyx, Karyl, and Damien, this is the place that feels like home.”
“Everyone should know a place like that,” he says. “A place they feel loved. A place they belong.”
“I agree. And I’m sure if Damien were here, he’d tell you that, if he wins, the Rivertoads will be free to travel your ancestral route. He understands now the importance of the caravan to you and your people.”
“Kind of him. Although I doubt such a farfetched scenario as my not winning is likely.”
I roll my eyes. “Do you ever get sick of fluffing up that ego of yours?
“Never.”
“Shouldn’t you be downstairs overseeing the final tally?” I ask.
“Shouldn’t you be at your mate’s side to comfort him when he loses?”
We both stare at each other for a beat.
“I saw you speaking with Catarina before she returned to Dimhollow,” I say, wondering if he wants to talk about it. I am one of only a handful of people who knows the truth.
He releases a heavy sigh. “She’s my mother.” He runs a hand over the top of his head. “Explains some things, honestly.”
“Will you see her again?”
He nods. “We’ve agreed to meet. It feels…odd. I’ve spent so long thinking of the Rivertoads as my only family.”
“The Rivertoads are your family, but having more people in this world who love us is a good problem to have.”
His answering smile is wistful.
From the hall, voices call to us. “It’s time!”
We shadoweave to the throne room, where a group of shades is counting and recounting the votes, their tallies documented on a large roll of parchment spread on a table at the center of the room.
Damien, along with the lords and ladies of the realm, hover over their work. Jaqual steps forward to join them.
I remain at the end of the aisle, waiting for the outcome that will frame my future, and knowing, whatever fate befalls us, anywhere Damien is will be home for me. Whatever happens, it will be okay.
“We have a clear winner.” The head accountant hands what I assume is the final tally to Damien and Jaqual, who each hold a side and read the results.
“Did you—”
“Are you—”
“Certain—”
They blubber back and forth, looking at each other and then at the accountants.
Tempest, Thane, Odette, Undaku, Eudora, Prandle, Nyx, and Karyl all read the results, their mouths dropping open a little.
I walk forward, now acutely curious about who our new king is.
Is it a tie? Someone unexpected, like Karyl or Roslyn?
Damien turns to meet my gaze, his expression unreadable. “We will not need to move, little dragon.”
I step onto the dais. “You’ve been elected?” I say excitedly, but he shakes his head.
Jaqual steps aside so that I can see the results. Both Damien and Jaqual received a sizable number of votes, as did Nyx and Karyl, but my jaw drops when I see the winner.
My name is scrawled at the top, victor by more than double.
The people have elected me.
“She who tames the dragon rules the world,” Jaqual says, a lazy smile breaking across his face.
I’m too flabbergasted to speak. Or move. My arms hang at my sides like dead weights.
Damien and Jaqual exchange glances under raised brows. “Shall I call Catarina back to restore you with a curative tea?” Damien asks. “By the goddess, breathe, woman!”
I try, but my breath rattles in my throat. It takes all my will to fill my lungs. “Are we sure about this? Is there any room for error?” I eventually manage to ask.
But everyone shakes their heads. “They were counted three separate times by separate employees, my queen,” the head accountant says, then catches himself.
“You will keep the moniker queen, I assume. We can change it, if you dislike the traditional title, but some habits are hard for people to break.”
I turn to Damien, wanting to ask him if this is okay. He has the second-highest number of votes. If I step down…
“Don’t even think about it,” he whispers. “It’s you. It was always meant to be you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, lick my lips, and search the faces around me. Everyone seems pleased, even Jaqual. No one but me is questioning this outcome.
Hand on my stomach to settle myself, I simply say, “Queen will do.”