Chapter Forty-Four
Kai
For the first time in centuries, the world took a yawning breath and spring arrived on the exhale.
Overnight, there was birdsong in the silent forest, flowers erupting in a riot of colour that Eisalaan had all but forgotten.
It was a balm; not just the return of life and warmth and magic, but to see an entire civilisation overcome with childlike wonder for a world he had once taken for granted.
To see Adeline uncovering this new Eisalaan, too.
He’d invite her on long walks when she needed a break from the intensity within the shifting palace walls, and she would drag him around by the hand as she overturned every new treasure they passed.
She still teased him over the fairy ring of mushrooms he’d had to physically carry her away from, and she’d nearly stopped his heart one morning by climbing a spindly little tree just to peer into a bird nest. Antics aside, experiencing the dawn of this long awaited spring through her eyes was a gift he hadn’t known to ask for. It was all he wanted.
She was all he wanted.
And there was no better time to tell her as much.
Or so he’d thought; the day’s celebration by the Laune had turned out to be long and loud.
Scores of people had come to watch the merrow’s official return to the sun-warmed waters of their home, and as the Cumhaill representative, Ceriwyn had been in her element.
She’d spun about in the cattails, preening and waving to an unending roar of cheers from the banks as the other Merrow waited in the shallows, exchanging giddy glances and playful sighs.
Fionnuala, for her part, simply waded out to shoulder depth with her band of Sealgair in tow, threw Kai a cursory nod, and disappeared.
“You’re on nodding terms now,” Adeline beamed. “That’s promising.”
“I’m almost certain she no longer wants to kill me,” Kai agreed.
Adeline gave his cheek a reassuring pat. “Me too.”
They’d had to be, for the agreement to work.
Long-lived and armed with their hardwon pendants, the Sealgair were uniquely placed to guard the Mother’s cavern, but their return to the Laune was contingent on Kai setting down his crown.
They couldn’t safely be around him; could not guarantee his safety.
The Elder Council would be re-instated in his place, and Kai would act as their ambassador on land.
Ceri and Al had been all too happy to represent him; they could return home, care for Alun’s parents in a familiar setting, and slowly build a life together—an idea he would forever maintain had come out of nowhere, no matter how much grief Adeline gave him for being oblivious.
He was glad for it, strange as it was. Glad that they had each other.
Glad that the transition could be an easy one for them all, even now that it was very much out of his hands.
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t relieved, but that relief came with a tangible weight to it—a guilt he’d forever wear in place of his crown.
Watching his people turn and sink into the waters, that weight settled upon him once more.
Perhaps it showed in the set of his shoulders too, because something in him drew Adeline’s eye.
She tore her gaze from where Ceriwyn was twirling in the shallows and her smile slid away when she caught sight of him.
She shifted closer, peering up at his face.
“We could find another way, you know,” she said, quiet and notably pained. “You could go with them. You could go home.”
Kai’s heart gave an almighty thump of protest. He turned at once to gather her close, and in full view of both the banks and the waters, he took her face in his hands and kissed her, slow and sure.
They broke apart to wolf whistles and Ceriwyn’s audible groan, broken by a splutter when Kai sent a small wave crashing in her direction.
Adeline blinked up at him, eyes bright, a pretty flush on her lips and cheeks.
“I am home,” he said.
???
The celebration on the banks lasted a while longer, even after Alun finally took Ceri by the hand and tugged her into the depths with a final joyous wave.
There was drinking and laughter; there were toasts to the Merrow, to the Sealgair, to the Drown’d Clan.
Retellings of a story they were all still living; a tale that did not yet have an ending in Kai’s mind, with characters he only faintly recognised.
When the sun began to sink, the brisk, spring dusk drove back many of the revellers to the warmth of their taverns and homes.
Adeline’s little court outlasted them all, gathered on a spread of overlapping blankets laid out on the grass. Though they didn’t swap retellings as the others had, they shared mundane anecdotes and plans for the future over a small flask of cooling spice wine.
Jack was enjoying newfound efficiency in the kitchens as he came to grips with his power, and Gerard was enjoying boasting about that fiery new talent to anyone who would listen.
Mareda and Imogen had been kept busy with the slow process of making their home in the Capital, bickering over paint colours and furnishings.
“And flower arrangements?” Adeline asked slyly.
Imogen paused to give her a funny look, and Mareda simply raised a brow.
“I swore they’d have made it official by now,” Adeline murmured to Kai.
“Made what official?”
“The engagement. I caught Marry looking through our mother’s rings months ago. She had me pick out the prettiest one and slipped it into her pocket. She has to have asked by now, don’t you think?”
It was rather unfortunate that Kai had been mid-sip as she spoke; it would have soured the mood of the evening if he’d choked to death at Adeline’s side. But Gerard snatched the flask from him with one hand and merrily smacked the breath from his lungs with the other.
“Oh,” Kai wheezed, as he batted Gerard away from his back. “Maybe.”
When the flask was drained, Mareda and Imogen were the first to peel away.
It seemed they were eager to head home for a lengthy beauty regime of various pastes and lotions, which Imogen had explained in fine detail while Mareda looked on with amused adoration.
The princess had held Kai’s eye for a long moment before she finally turned away, and as she retreated he found himself reaching into his pocket for the small round bulk she’d entrusted him.
Still there.
Gerard was less subtle in his departure, as in most things. He’d stood so abruptly that Jack nearly tumbled off the blanket they’d been sharing.
“Well, I’d best get this one back to the palace,” he announced heartily.
Jack glanced around, looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “Me?”
“Yes you,” said Ger, then to Adeline; “He’s exhausted.”
“I’m alright, actually.”
“Look at you,” Ger boomed, while Kai fought to remain unmoved by the theatrics as he stared fixedly at the sunset. “You’re practically unconscious.”
“He said he’s fine, you big bully,” said Adeline. “Go home yourself, if you want to go.”
Ger ignored her.
“Look at him, falling asleep sitting up. Wouldn’t be surprised if I had to carry him home myself.”
Jack and Adeline exchanged bemused looks, to which Jack shrugged and snorted.
“Suppose that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
And if Adeline weren’t already simmering with suspicion, the hearty clap Ger delivered to Kai’s shoulder might have done it. Kai closed his eyes.
“Good night, Gerard,” he said tightly.
“Night, you two,” Ger sang.
Honest to Adhlas.
All Kai had said was that he’d appreciate some time alone with Adeline come nightfall.
Either Ger wasn’t quite as obtuse as he pretended, or he’d somehow caught sight of the trinket Mareda had slipped to Kai.
He reached for it again, smoothing a thumb over the velvet case in his pocket—then releasing it with a jolt when he felt Adeline’s eyes on him.
“He’s being weirder than usual,” she noted.
Kai simply hummed, unable to draw the breath to speak a full sentence. It was a little easier when she shifted closer and curled into his side, though his lungs still shook in his ribcage.
“You are too,” said Adeline, too quietly.
“Am I?”
Mother help him, he’d made such a shambles of this night.
It had seemed like the right time when he’d woken that morning; moods were high, they were both dressed in finery and had spent the day surrounded by loved ones and celebrations.
Adeline had called little flowers to her hand and woven them into her curls, bluebells to match her gauzy blue dress; she was radiant.
Even the setting was perfect; between her home and his, staring out at the lake’s surface rippling like silk.
The shimmer of light on water, and the slow spread of gold down the centre of the Laune as the sun began to tuck itself into the distant horizon.
He could not have asked for a better view, a better moment.
And here he was, fumbling it.
“You are,” said Adeline. “And I think I know why.”
Adhlas.
“It’s because of Os, isn’t it?”
At the very least, the shock served to still his thrumming nerves, and Kai found it in himself to peel back and meet her eye.
“Os?”
Adeline bit her lip.
“When we were waving goodbye to Ceri and Al, you did that thing you do. That thinking thing, where you’re arguing with yourself. You told me once that it’s not always your voice you hear. It’s Os.”
Kai could only nod. It was true. His cousin spoke to him constantly, and he’d heard him clear as day as they stood and celebrated the Merrow’s homecoming.
“What was he saying?”
Kai exhaled the tension, yet still his words shook on the way out.
“Something he told me back in Dhalias. That I’d be relieved to have the choice taken from me; that I’d be happy to finally live the fairytale.”
Adeline’s face fell for only a moment; it was revived, almost at once, by a fierce light in her eyes. She pulled back and shifted to her knees, taking his face in both her hands as though there was a chance he would ever want to look anywhere else.