Chapter 17 #2
We approached the raised dais with two golden chairs where my grandfather stood.
As my foot touched the dais for the first time, I almost stumbled as I saw double for a moment, the present overlayed with a vision of something else entirely.
I was there, sitting in one of those chairs, looking like I belonged, wearing a crown of gold, with veins of blue, red, silver, and green pulsing through it.
A man was on the throne next to me, our hands entwined.
His presence was familiar—the strong line of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders, hands built to be a warrior but that I somehow knew were gentle—but his face was obscured, keeping his identity just out of reach.
But what truly caused my breath to catch was the gigantic white wolf sprawled out at my feet, positioned like a guardian and partner.
Its massive head rested on its paws, its silver eyes scanning the crowd with ancient wisdom.
The wolf’s presence looked as natural as the man at my side, both as essential to me as breathing.
Before I could study it further, the vision shimmered and disappeared. I blinked at the now-empty golden chairs as I put my other foot on the step.
What the fuck was that?
Griff helped me up the dais, surreptitiously aiding me as I tripped over my long skirts.
Zachariah saw everything, his face expressionless except for a slight tick of his jaw as he saw how I was dressed.
I knew the plan was for Griff to hand me over to my grandfather once we were next to each other, but was that reluctance I sensed coming from Griff or was it solely my own?
I considered refusing Zachariah’s hand and insisting on standing on my own, but I had no choice as he clasped mine in his cool, wrinkled grip before turning me to face my people.
I took a deep breath, butterflies in my stomach—but not the good kind.
Only Griff’s presence, a pace behind and to the left of me, loosened my chest enough to release the breath.
I saw a few faces I recognized in the crowd—Finn, Andrei, a few of the higher-ranking soldiers I trained with.
I plastered a demure smile on my face, the kind that I assumed a princess would wear.
“A glorious Ignistar!” Zachariah’s voice was amplified so that everyone could hear him. “After so many years, our long-lost princess has been returned to her rightful place. I introduce you to my granddaughter, Lily Alexandra Andrever, daughter of Thomrin and Mireya Andrever.”
I had to hand it to him—he was a masterful showman. He had them in the palm of his hand, and he knew it. My breath stuttered again as all those people stared at me, wanting me to be something for them, the hope radiating out from them.
“Breathe, Princess,” Griff’s voice said in my ear, so quiet I almost had to strain to hear it. “I promise I’ll catch you if you faint, but you’ll give them something to talk about if that happens.”
I hadn’t realized I was holding myself that tightly until I almost snorted and ruined everything. “Not helping,” I spoke out of the corner of my mouth.
“I’ve seen you face down so much worse than a room of overdressed peacocks. This should be the easy one, Princess.”
“Aren’t you ever going to use my name?”
Zachariah’s grip on my hand tightened again. I doubted he could hear Griff’s comments, but he somehow knew my attention had wandered and he was not amused.
“She is the Orlaith, the foretold savior of our kingdom! The sole power able to fix the Veil and hide our peoples from the darkest gaze.” He took a step forward, dragging me along with him, and Griff stepped forward as I did.
Zachariah continued on in this vein for a while longer, the faces rapt with excitement and dreams of finally living without fear of death.
These people somehow expected me to single-handedly fix a magical barrier that had claimed the lives of my parents, defeat an ancient evil no one understood that was transforming their friends and family into demons, and somehow transform from someone who had farmed in mud to a golden, powerful princess.
All because a few lines on paper had been interpreted to say so.
The collective hope in those faces pressed down on me, like a physical weight on my shoulders. Everyone in that crowd was counting on me. To be their savior. To be the protection against the darkness. To be the prophesized Orlaith.
So no pressure. None whatsoever.
When the presentation part of the night was officially over, Andrei was the first to greet me.
“Lexa!” He offered an elbow to help me off the dais. I leaned heavily on him to avoid tripping and he surreptitiously adjusted his weight. “Don’t you look beautiful.”
Zachariah had followed and was frowning at his praise. “This family does not show off, young lady,” he spit out of the corner of his mouth.
I opened my mouth to respond, but Andrei sighed heavily. “Do you never give it a rest? Your granddaughter is at her first High Day, and it’s Ignistar, and her presentation no less. She’s back after fifty years in exile, and looks beautiful. The least you can do is not be a jackass tonight.”
As my mouth gaped open, I wondered, not for the first time, what exactly Andrei saw in my grandfather. Andrei might have defended me from Zachariah a few times, but he’d never openly called him out on it before. Especially in front of anyone else. Zachariah seemed equally surprised.
I didn’t have time to savor it, though, as people clamored around me, separating me from my grandfather and his partner.
So many people. I felt like a buoy, adrift in the sea, bounced around by whatever the waves dictated.
Everyone wanted something. Some favor. Some influence.
Some just for me to know their name so they could ask something later.
To say I was overwhelmed was an understatement.
But there was one person, one face, always standing directly behind me, guarding my back, who wanted nothing.
I continually reached out with my mind, and every time I did, I met a warm, calming light, lessening the anxiety enough for me to speak to the next person.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” I dared to admit to him, during one brief ebb in the flow of visitors.
“You’re doing just fine,” came his soothing reply. His hand briefly rested on my lower back, a comforting warmth radiating from it.
I let his strength become a bulwark as I kept a wary eye out for anyone who showed a sign of being a part of the mysterious faction that might or might not want to kill me.
The one that my attacker presumably was a part of.
Because if they wanted the crown themselves, surely something would come up during the presentation where Zachariah announced me as the heir apparent.
One of the courtiers approached, standing entirely too close to me, his hand holding mine to his slimy lips for entirely too long.
I recoiled from his alcohol-fumed breath, trying to disengage my hand, and stepped back into a hard chest. Griff moved me to the side, stepping in front of me and blocking the drunk courtier from my sight.
“The princess has no need to smell your breath. Remove yourself.”
When he came back to my side, hand possessively on my back once again, I murmured, “I can defend myself. Even from handsy courtiers with noxious breath.”
“I know you can,” was his calm response. “But I will not be held accountable for what happens to people who have their hands on you without your permission.” There was the overprotective Champion. And damned if I didn’t find that rather sweet. There must have been something wrong with me.
I decided to not point out that he constantly touched me without permission, including right at this moment. I didn’t want to risk him stopping.
“If I have to maintain this smile for one more minute, I think my face will be frozen this way. I thought this was supposed to be a party,” I muttered as Finn broke his way through the crowd and added his bulk as a barrier between me and the masses.
“At least it’s a very nice smile,” Finn said cheerfully, handing both of us glasses of something bubbly and sweet.
While Finn wasn’t nearly as broad as Griff, when compared to the average courtier, he was plenty large. And he clearly knew how to use it to his advantage, just as Griff did. They expertly edged us away from the crowd.
I laughed ruefully. And then stiffened as Zachariah glared at me.
“Easy,” Griff whispered. “Enjoy yourself, as much as you can.”
“Yeah, Lexie. Enjoy yourself,” Finn echoed. “Here you are, nestled between two of the kingdom’s most eligible bachelors. How does it feel?”
I released a giggle, driven more by nervous energy than his joke. “You two are the kingdom’s most eligible bachelors? Slim pickings.”
“You wound me,” he said, but his eyes twinkled. “I’ll have you know,” he continued, “that while I can’t speak for my brother here, I am sought out by many a lady for my prowess—” He cut off when Griff’s elbow connected with his ribs.
“I assure you, she does not need to hear of your prowess, of any type. Even if that was an appropriate topic of conversation for right now.”
Undeterred, Finn continued, “We could talk about your prowess, Griff. Where is Aine tonight? She—”
“No.”
Griff only said the one syllable, but it was enough for Finn to drop that line of teasing.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as Griff moved his neck stiffly, a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
Who was Aine and why was Griff so quick to shut it down?
Aine. Even her name sounded elegant. The name settled in my stomach like a rock.
Why did hearing a woman’s name in association with Griff cause my chest to feel this hollow?