No Throne in Sight
? Roman ?
Ivy chose the garden arch because there’s no dais beneath it and no throne in sight.
The stone is older than the palace, pale blocks worn smooth by rain and winter wind. Bare moonvine twists through the upper cracks. The evening is cold enough that every breath turns white.
Nora stands beside me while I fasten my coat, watching my left hand.
“You’re pulling at the scar.”
“I’m fastening a button.”
“You’ve made buttons medically concerning.”
The wound is closing, but it still catches when I move badly. Nora has explained, at length, that becoming king didn’t make me harder to injure.
“If you tear it open tonight,” she says, “Rowan will finish the ceremony over your unconscious body.”
“I’ll try to avoid that.”
“You said that last time.”
Dane steps around her carrying a lantern. “He says it every time.”
“I’m standing beside two deeply disloyal people.”
“You promoted one of us,” Dane says.
“An error I can correct.”
Before he can answer, the voices beyond the path lower.
Ivy walks toward the arch in deep blue with silver at her throat and wrists. Her hair falls over one shoulder. The bond settles when she reaches me, warm but quiet enough to ignore.
“You look beautiful,” I say.
“You look upright.”
“That sounds almost kind.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
She glances past me. “Has he listened to either of you?”
“Not once,” Nora says.
Dane considers. “He sat down yesterday.”
“After he nearly fell.”
“That still counts.”
Ivy laughs, and some of the pressure in my chest loosens.
The garden holds wolves from Birch Hollow, Eastmere, Vance, and the Northern packs.
Holt has brought a folio despite Rowan’s promise that no decrees will be read.
Mara stands with Tobin near the eastern path.
The boy is pale but upright, one hand wrapped around the carved wooden wolf Dane gave him during the inquiry.
Aurelian remains beneath the Vance banner. He hasn’t tried to approach Ivy since the council chamber. At dawn, the first rebuilding crews leave for the returned Vance lands.
Rowan steps beneath the arch.
“The charter already names your sovereigns,” he says. “Tonight binds no office and answers no council order. They asked for witnesses. That’s all we are.”
He steps away.
I take Ivy’s hands. Armies have frightened me less than the thought of making a promise she’ll remember clearly.
“I spent years believing protection meant standing in front of everyone I loved,” I say. “Mostly, it meant I was alone and difficult to reach.”
Her fingers tighten around mine.
“You taught me to ask before I decide and to come back when fear says distance is safer. I won’t always get it right.”
“Accurate,” she murmurs.
A few people laugh. I do too.
“I’ll tell you when I’m afraid. I’ll listen when you say I’m wrong. And I’ll come home.”
I kiss her knuckles.
“I love you. I want the work, the arguments, the quiet, and the years after all of this stops feeling new.”
There are a hundred more things I could say. Most of them would repeat what she already knows.
I leave the silence to her.
----
? Ivy ?
At the first altar, everyone waited for Jace to decide what happened to me.
Roman waits for me now.
I look at the people gathered beneath the cold sky. Eastmere still has missing children. Vance has land but not yet homes. Two southern regions haven’t recognized the charter, and Holt has already warned us the winter accounts are worse than anyone admitted.
Nothing is fixed because we spoke in a council chamber.
That makes this promise feel more real.
“I used to think vows were kind words wrapped around a locked door,” I say. “With you, I still get to be angry. I get to change my mind about small things, tell you when you’re wrong, and ask you to stay without owing you for it.”
“That seems like a large number of times I’m wrong.”
“It is.”
The garden laughs again, and some of the fear leaves my hands.
“You see me when I’m useful and when I’m not. You let me be frightened without making fear my whole name.”
Roman’s eyes close for half a breath.
“I want mornings when we’re late, hard days we survive together, and nights when neither of us has anything wise left to say.”
“That last one may happen often.”
“I’m counting on it.”
I step closer.
“I love you. I want a life that doesn’t ask either of us to disappear inside it.”
I pull him down and kiss him before Rowan can decide we need another sentence.
The kiss begins with both of us smiling. Roman’s hand settles at my waist, and the other remains around mine. Applause rises unevenly around the garden. Eastmere starts it, Birch Hollow joins, and Vance follows a moment later.
When we part, Roman rests his forehead against mine.
“You all right?”
“Yes.” I squeeze his hand. “And you?”
“Ask me after Nora checks the button.”
Nora calls from the path, “I heard that.”
I laugh against Roman’s mouth and kiss him again.
Someone near the garden wall begins playing a small fiddle.
The tune is rough and a little too fast for ceremony, but Mara takes Tobin’s hands and turns him once beneath the lanterns.
Other wolves follow until the path fills with boots scraping stone and laughter that doesn’t ask permission from the palace.
Roman looks at the moving couples, then at me. “I don’t dance.”
“You marched an army through a mountain pass.”
“The army followed orders.”
“So will you.”
I place one of his hands at my waist and keep the other in mine. His first step is careful because of the wound. The second is careful because he’s Roman. By the third, he stops watching his feet.
We don’t do anything impressive. We turn once beneath the bare moonvine while the fiddle loses the tune and finds it again. Roman’s thumb moves over my knuckles, and for a few breaths there’s no council waiting, no crown seal, and no room measuring what our closeness means.
His side pulls when he shifts. I feel it through the bond and stop.
“I’m fine,” he says.
“You’re done.”
He studies my face, then lets me lead him to the low garden wall without arguing. It may be the most convincing vow he makes all night.
We sit shoulder to shoulder while Tobin attempts the same turn with Nora and nearly steps on both her boots. Roman leans close enough that only I hear him.
“I meant what I said about coming home.”
I rest my head briefly against his shoulder. “So did I.”
Afterward, there’s no formal procession. Holt tries to organize one and is ignored. Mara presses a small bundle of winter herbs into my hands. Tobin bows so deeply that he nearly loses his balance, then blushes when Dane catches his shoulder.
Aurelian waits until the garden has begun to empty.
“The Vance crews leave at dawn,” he says.
“I know.”
“I’ll send the road reports through Holt.”
“That’s best.”
He nods. There are questions in his face, but he keeps them. For now, restraint is the only gift I know how to accept from him.
Roman joins me after Nora finishes inspecting the button and, apparently, the entire side of his body.
“Did you survive?” I ask.
“Barely.”
“Tragic.”
We walk back toward the palace without crowns, attendants, or anyone announcing us. Halfway down the path, Roman reaches for my hand.
The moonvine shifts above us, bare branches against an open sky, and I take it.