55. Wilder
Wilder
When night falls in Quietus, the air changes.
Dusk was always my sister’s favorite time of day.
She said the sunset reminded her of the start of a storm.
Selia found peace in a downpour. She found quiet between the bursts of rolling thunder.
She’s the reason I thought to mold my magic into something that looked like lightning, so no one would discover my aether wielding.
I glance out the window at the mountains. Selia and I used to sit at the highest peak, watching the sunset. She’d wait for darkness to fall, while I’d wait for the stars to come alive.
At the first pinprick of light in the obsidian sky, something in my chest would open.
As if I knew even then that among the blots of light something was waiting for me.
Selia would lie on her back on a mossy boulder, drawing pictures of the constellations.
She’d tell stories late into the night while I stared at the dark spots between realms, unknowingly waiting for my mate to find me.
The Kingdom constellation was Selia’s favorite. The night would often shift and change, but those particular stars always hung above the palace. She would trace the outline with her finger and laugh at the thought of me being king someday.
To her, I was her annoying older brother. Overprotective, constantly stopping her from getting into trouble. And yet, in those final years, she slipped through my fingers.
I was too focused on my own responsibilities. On the magic I was having trouble shaping—containing. What would our mother have done with my aether had she known the extent of what I wielded? What destruction would she have demanded?
I ran so far from that fear that I left my sister behind. What she then became was my fault.
Selia should be here tonight, keeping my ego in check like she once promised. But now, she’s gone.
I fasten the buttons on my royal jacket. There’s an emptiness to this room. To the spot at the window where my sister would no doubt be perched, talking my ear off. She would have found something to distract me from the fact that I’m about to accept the weight of my kingdom’s fate on my shoulders.
My gaze pauses where Selia should be sitting on my windowsill. It’s empty.
“Am I interrupting?” Elorie’s voice tests the thread before she steps into the room.
“You’re never interrupting, Starfire.”
I turn as Elorie rounds the corner, dripping in glittering starlight.
Her hair is loose around her shoulders, with a braid wrapping her head like a crown.
Small gems are embedded in the dips of her white strands, making them sparkle.
Silver starlight silk shimmers with her steps.
It hangs off her shoulders, curving like a heart that accentuates her breasts.
The fabric melts to her curves. Sheer as it moves over her legs.
Like she walked out of a star, and its remnants drip behind her.
At her fingertips, her magic dances. White sparkles glow and flutter up her forearms.
She’s the constellation I searched for in the night long before I ever found her. The star I wished on when there was nothing but the darkness of the prison around me.
“What do you think of the dress? Am I fit to stand beside a king?” She teases me with a devious little smirk.
“I’m hardly fit to stand beside you. This dress is fit for a queen.” I stop before her and take her hand as I drop to a knee.
Her eyebrow lifts. “Should a king be kneeling?”
“For you, everyone should take a knee, especially me. I am yours until the fates unwind, Elorie Vale, and even then.” My lips press the back of her hand, her magic tickling my skin as her smile spreads.
Lifting to my feet, I pull her to me this time. A perfect gasp escapes her lungs as she clutches my shirt and pulls me closer. Elorie’s lips seal to mine, and everything else quiets. Her fingers slip up around the back of my neck, twining starlight through my hair.
Aether wraps her body; my magic is just as desperate for her. It holds her closer as her lips part, and she moans into my mouth. Every fleck of my being aches for her. Needs her. Loves her.
“I love you too,” she whispers against my lips, smiling gently as she slips into my mind. “Now we should go before we do something reckless like ruin this beautiful dress.”
“I like the second option.”
“Too bad.” Elorie pulls away, keeping our fingers laced. “Everyone is waiting on their king. Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”
Especially when they’ve been waiting a long time.
It’s been a century since my mother fell, and I was locked in a prison.
Vaelier trusted my mother—trusted me—to accept Aurora in my place while they waited.
But now, the time has come for me to take my rightful place on the throne.
As I said to Elorie in the Ley Court many months ago, my people need a king for whatever comes next.
I didn’t fully understand that when I said it to her. I didn’t know I’d lose Selia and that grief would destroy my confidence in accepting my crown. I’ve doubted myself at every turn since her death, and my people have suffered for that hesitance.
No more.
We have a battle to win, a realm to save. And even after that is done, if what Esen told Elorie is true, the humans are planning something with the aeraliss they are mining. My people need me confident and ready.
I stop at the table beside the bedroom door and remove the obsidian crown from the pillow to place it to my head. The weight of the obsidian stones at the peaks cast a heaviness over my aura. They represent the weight of the responsibility I’m about to accept.
When we reach the grand ballroom, Elorie tries to pull away, so I snag my magic at her waist to keep her close.
“You should walk in by yourself. This is your moment.” She looks up at me.
“Our moment,” I correct her, placing my palm on her lower back. “Our people’s moment.”
Elorie takes a deep breath, folding her hands in front of her, and steps through the doors at my side.
The entire room drops to a knee.
Not long ago, I would have been beside them while my mother walked through the room, and now, I’m at the center. I find Atlas and Rior at the front of the crowd, beside the lords and ladies of Vaelier.
They nod once, tempering their usual sarcastic smirks.
Beside them, Perame is not on her knee, but seated in a chair. Shadows rim her eyes, and exhaustion has her face terrifyingly pale. She should be in bed recovering, but I doubt she would listen if I tried to send her back there. She’s here for this.
For me.
Perame smiles as we pass the group, and my throat tightens.
Elorie pulls back before we reach the steps, moving to stand beside Greer and Callum, who have both traded their warrior attire for silk finery like the rest of the room. They are not from this kingdom, but they stand beside my mate, respecting my ascension to the throne.
This is where it starts. Our realms will either destroy each other or find a way to work together. To have representation from Lyrichia on this night, welcoming me as king, is proof we fight for eventual peace.
My mate saw it before I could, but I understand now.
Calla, the priestess to the Vaelier royal family, steps forward. Her red hair hangs almost to her knees. Flowers dot the flowing strands. Emerald silk hangs loose at her neck, accentuating the ruby shimmer she’s painted over her bronze skin.
She stands with her hands clasped around the hilt of Mother’s sword. There’s a stone for each territory embedded in it.
Tiger’s eye at the top for Zealeh.
A bright sapphire for Andare.
Green jade for Everquell.
An iridescent opal for Quietus.
And finally, a single white pearl for Tael, who is represented today by Lord Kave Fang, even as his territory goes dark.
He stands with a solemn expression on his face, in support of our realm coming together. Just as Celeste has promised to help from the north, we will find our way by offering our support to each other. Come what may, I will fight for my realm.
This time, I will not fall. I will not doubt. I will not be weak or accept defeat. This crown atop my head is my promise that I intend to keep.
“Your Majesty.” Calla bows her head, holding the sword in front of her.
I take the handle as I drop to a knee before the blade—the blade of my people.
My chin drops as a white light emits from above, and Calla whispers a prayer in the old language.
May the gods see the king.
May the gods protect the people.
In birth, in wisdom, in life, and eternal darkness, may the gods guide his path through the fates.
“Stand,” Calla directs, and I lift to my feet. “May this crown be a promise from the king to his people. May this blade be an answer when those people suffer. And may this king be a beacon of hope when his people call for him. Do you honor your kingdom, Wilder Riven?”
“Yes.”
“Do you honor the people of Vaelier?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear your loyalty, your blood, your magic? Will you defend them until your dying breath?”
“I will.”
My heart hammers as the Beating reminds me how close I am to that dying breath right now. So long as it waits for this battle to end, I will fight for them.
“You may turn.” Calla releases the blade, coming to my side as I face the room, the sword pinned to the ground in front of me as I look out at my court. “We wish strength and power to our king. We pledge our loyalties to him.”
Calla bows her head, and the rest of the room does the same, kneeling as they were before, even in silk, lace, and fine fabrics.
“Your Majesty, King Wilder Riven.”
“Your Majesty, King Wilder Riven,” the room repeats after Calla.
I glance at the empty pillows on the ground beside Rior. The spot where the surviving blood of Vaelier kneels in these ceremonies. It is left empty with Selia gone, yet somehow, I feel her here.
I would not stand before my people had it not been for her sacrifices, no matter how Vaelier resents her. For Selia, I move forward. I leave her at the grieving pillar, and I step into the role I was meant to take the moment my mother fell.
Calla is the first to lift her chin, and when she does, the room rises.
But no one speaks as she takes the long walk down the center of the room, her chin held high.
The doors groan open to let her through, and then the sword before me warms to my touch, and the white light that bathed me pulls inward.
A gift from the gods.
“To the king,” the room shouts, and while I’ve spent a century fearing that title, it’s finally who I am.
The ceremony ends, and we move into another grand hall for celebrations. When I step through the door, I’m still dressed in my royal tunic, but the top buttons are undone, and I’ve left the sword on the dais in the royal hall.
“The great king.” Atlas grins as I approach. He bows almost in half, making a show of it. “It’s good to see you, Your Majesty.”
“Don’t pretend you’re going to start being respectful now.”
“Not a chance.” He laughs, and I turn to Perame, who is seated at a table. Seren is beside her, holding a chilled cloth to the back of her neck.
“Thank you for being here.” I take her hand, kissing the back of it.
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Even death.” Her smile is faint.
“How about you hold off on the death part for all our sakes.”
“If you wish, my king.” She grins, and it’s more of a tease than anything as she shoos me away. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to stand over me and worry. Go do something royal.”
Her eyes track Elorie, who stops beside me. The moment she’s within reach, my hands find her waist, pulling her to my side.
“On that note, if you don’t mind, I’m going to call it an early evening.” Perame tries to stand, and Atlas is there to help her.
When she tries to shove him off, he refuses, sweeping her into his arms to carry his sister from the room. Seren doesn’t follow, but her eyes stay on them.
Elorie’s gaze darts between them, noting the scene, until Letia moves to sit beside Seren, whispering in her ear. Letia’s gold dress matches the veins that stretch from her fingertips to her temple.
“Would you like to stay with your friends?” I ask Elorie, who is glowing brighter than any star. “I should probably make my rounds, and I guarantee it will be endlessly boring.”
She slips her arm through mine, clutching her fingers tightly. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than at your side. Show me what it means for you to be king.”
Gods, she’s perfect.
Loving.
Accepting.
I lean close, pressing my lips to her forehead. “I’ll show you exactly what it means to be king later.”
She shivers as I lead her through the room.
Elorie stays at my side while I meet with each of the leaders of the territories. They pledge their devotion to the Crown and promise to support the needs of Vaelier.
It takes half the night to make our way through the room, and by the time I’ve met with each of them individually, I have a better understanding of my mother’s irritation by the end of evenings like this.
I wait for Elorie to get bored or tired and pull away, but she stays at my side, whispering jokes through the thread that keep me interested. When we finally have a moment to ourselves, I spin us into a private corner so I can breathe her in.
“This is quite a night.” She sighs against me. “I didn’t realize how exhausting it is. I’m surprised you’re still standing.”
“Regretting sticking around yet?”
“No.” Her fingers clutch my shirt, silver glinting in her eyes. “You’ll do great things for your people, King Riven.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
I hum, eyes narrowing.
“What?”
“I was just thinking… before I do all those great things for my people, I’d like to do something for you.” Her eyebrows pinch as I lift my hand to open a Gate. A drift of the night wisps through as I lower my lips to hers. “I want to show you something.”