41. Puck
“For my first royal decree…”
By the goddess, Lysandra is a vision.
She took my breath away when I watched her enter the ceremony. The way her purple hair glowed in the sun and her brown eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, as well as the gorgeous gown that belonged in a storybook. She’s perfect. I was hiding in the back of the meadow, right on the edge of the forest when she arrived. I didn’t want to distract from her day, and it was only when I got a death glare from Gwyneira that I took my seat beside Edina in the front row.
If possible, she’s even more stunning now. She was made to wear that crown.
Her eyes find mine, and I detect a hint of nerves. I give her my widest smile to hopefully ease her worry, but that only hardens her gaze.
“I am dissolving the monarchy.”
The meadow, which was filled with the chatter of Fae and the buzz of insects, falls completely silent.
“The fuck did she just say?” Edina whisper-shouts.
“I think she said she’s dissolving the monarchy,” Eldoris responds, sounding as shell-shocked as the rest of us.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Edina says. It really is a great phrase.
The other monarchs look like someone poisoned their drinks—except for Gwyneira, who remains impassive. The Fae in the crowd look around wildly, speaking in terrified, excited whispers. Radley howls in laughter, Hades looks amused, and Larisa looks like she thinks Lysandra had a mental breakdown on the dais.
But Lysandra is looking at me. Her big, beautiful eyes are tearing slightly, the only indication that she’s nervous.
“What are you doing, princess?” I mouth.
She holds up a hand and once again the crowd quiets. “Since I’ve arrived in Spring Court and claimed the role of your princess, there have been two Fae ruling, two making decisions, two consulting on affairs with other courts. With both of us at the helm, the court has thrived.”
“By the goddess,” Larisa breathes.
“I understand that, until this point, there have only been singular rulers in Faerie, but I believe it’s time for a change. In the three trials, Puck proved he had all three traits the monarchs deemed necessary to rule—leadership, reasoning, and bravery. His time as interim king was one of the most peaceful and bountiful times of the court. He has more than proven his worth.”
Soft murmurs of agreement sound from the crowd. Even the monarchs are smiling.
Is this real? Do they really want me as their king?
“By the power bestowed on me here today, I am hereby changing the Spring Court monarchy to a diarchy, and name Puck as King of the Spring Court, to rule alongside me, so that we may continue to bring peace and prosperity to our court.” She extends a hand toward me. “Do you accept this position?”
Even the flowers hold their breath.
I spent the past three days convincing myself I didn’t care about losing the trial. And while that’s still true—I cared far more about losing Lysandra—a part of me mourned the loss of this dream. I convinced myself I was never worthy of the crown. I’m too conniving, too untrustworthy, too low-born. It doesn’t matter how much I love my court, or that I want it to be the best it can be, I’ve made too many mistakes to rule.
But maybe those were merely intrusive thoughts. Because Lysandra is looking at me like I’m a king, and the rest of the realm seems excited at this possibility. Maybe, just maybe, I can do this by her side.
I swallow. Lysandra’s face falls the longer I try to process. She put everything on the line for me today. If I say no, she’ll look like a fool, and worse, will have to share the throne with someone else.
Which means she trusts me; she wouldn’t have taken such a leap of faith if she didn’t. It means I didn’t fuck this up.
By the goddess, I love this female.
“I accept,” I say, barely a whisper around the lump in my throat.
The crowd goes so insane the earth trembles. Flowers are thrown like confetti. Fae surround me, tugging me into celebratory embraces before Edina shoos them all away so I can ascend the dais. There’s no processional, just me walking toward my queen.
When I arrive beside her, I raise a shield around the two of us to silence our conversation. “Are you sure?” I ask.
“More than I’ve been about anything,” she replies, tears of joy in her eyes.
“We fight about everything,” I point out.
“Which means we’ll keep each other in check.”
“But what if we—”
“Wait,” she cuts me off. I open my mouth to try again, but she holds up her hand to stop me. “Let me just say this, then you can say whatever you were going to say.”
“So bossy now that you’re a queen,” I chuckle, and she joins me until I motion for her to continue.
“I made a mistake at the final trial. I should have trusted you. I do trust you.”
“I should have never asked you to give this up.”
“We should have worked together to figure out a solution,” she agrees. “But Puck, I’m not doing this because of any feelings I have for you.”
All color drains from my face. I flew too close to the sun and now my wings are melted and I’m careening toward the earth.
“Shit, no that’s not what I meant,” she hurries. “I meant, even if things go wrong with us, I think we’ll be a great team when it comes to ruling this court. I don’t want you to think I’m making this decision because I love you.”
“You love me?”
She steps closer, rising on her toes so she can cup my cheek. “I loved you since I tied you to that damn hedge in the maze,” she says, repeating the words I said to her in the final trial. “I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you in it.”
It doesn’t matter that the entire realm is watching. It doesn’t matter that there’s a dais full of monarchs, or a priestess waiting to finish the coronation ceremony, I wrap my hand around the back of Lysandra’s head and capture her lips in a searing kiss.
I’m vaguely aware of the crowd hollering, but I can’t bring myself to care when my whole world is in my arms. She grips the lapels of my jacket, keeping me close as I sweep my tongue along her lower lip and she opens for me.
Kissing her feels like sinking into a hot bath after a long day. It erases all my worries, all my troubles.
It’s like coming home.
With a groan, I pull away. Lysandra’s eyes are hazy with lust, and since our shield is still erected, I lean in and whisper, “When we get home, I’m going to sit on our throne, and you’re going to sit on my face. Does that sound good, princess?”
She shivers as I nip her earlobe. “Maybe,” she shrugs, but I can scent her arousal.
“Good to see you’re still a brat, even when you’re a queen,” I joke.
“Go get crowned already.”
“Eager to be on your knees for me?”
“Always.”
Fuck. I’m going to have a boner when they name me King.
She pulls away from me, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth as she takes her place beside the other monarchs. I force myself to look away from her as the priestess repeats the ceremony. Someone finds my mother and leads her to my vacated seat in the front row, where she clutches Edina’s arm and the two of them cry.
The rest of the crowd is reverent. I look beyond the first few rows of royals, courtiers, and advisors to the regular population. I was born of these Fae; born to a small village with a common family. My father was a soldier, my mother a seamstress, and now, I’m about to be their king. These are the Fae I’ll fight for in my court, the Fae I’ll serve with my whole heart. I mentally vow to use my platform to make their lives better, and as if they can hear me, they place their hands over their hearts.
“Do you, Puck of Spring Court, promise to serve your court above all else? Do you promise to rule with kindness and mercy as the goddess bids?”
“I solemnly promise so to do.”
The monarchs hand me the scepter and the crystal ball. They summon a thick-green cape that appears to be made of moss and drape it over my shoulders. A crown, the male counterpart to Lysandra’s, is placed on my head.
I glance at Lysandra, the female who’s captured my heart, and against all odds, has given me everything I’ve ever dreamed.
“I love you,” I mouth, and she repeats the sentiment before I turn back to the priestess. The crowd, now bowing before me, doesn’t wait for her to finish the ceremony before cheering. I’m not even ashamed as tears roll down my cheeks.
“All hail, Puck, King of the Spring Court,” the priestess cheers.
“Long live the King!”