54 #2
Though Meront and Celestine’s parents were a greedy and dramatic pair, they were also the least likely to covet the title of high king and queen. Verlana and Cidon Moongold lived in a palace of gold, ate off it, and even had their clothing lined with it. Too many already longed for all they had.
The Scale Crown in their possession would see more than staff and daring guests attempt to take from them, and not siding with whoever held the crown made Moongold a threat well worth punishing.
Meront gazed over my shoulder, jaw tightening. “Your husband is staring.”
I didn’t doubt it, but I didn’t look. “He does that.”
Meront’s eyes settled back on me and narrowed slightly. “Tales of your wedding get more spectacular by the day.”
Knowing that was probably very true, all I could do was shrug and say, “Believe me, no one was more shocked than I was.”
For a moment, Meront just gazed down at me. As he did, some of that tension returned. It feathered his jaw before he whispered, “He made you his queen.” An intentional pause. “To get his throne.”
Those words struck like a blow. “Meront,” I started, then stopped and shook my head. “Actually, he needn’t have made me his queen to claim what is rightfully his.” Undeterred by the rising of his golden brows, I smiled. “He just needed me to accept our bond.”
Low chatter trickled into the silence staling between us.
“I’d hoped that wasn’t true,” he eventually said. “I’d hoped he’d merely lied to his court to get away with killing his uncle.”
“Scents don’t lie.” I touched my warming neck, shifting some of my hair. “And neither do marks that scar.”
Meront’s eyes widened as he beheld the claw marks on my throat. He retreated a step. “That’s why I couldn’t stand being near you at the archives.” An incredulous laugh joined his words. “Because of him.”
I nodded.
“Ayla.” Urgency filled his tone. “It’s not too late, you know. We can find a way for you to leave him and return you and the crown to Cloverleaf.”
“Return me?” I asked, though I’d heard him just fine. “Meront, I am not some flower crushed beneath his giant paw. I am Valadorn’s queen.”
He rolled his lips between his teeth. “I know that means a great deal to you, being queen, especially after what your father has done.” Stepping closer, he said, “But you needn’t suffer evil to get what you want.”
Anger burst into my voice, hardening it. “Who says I suffer?”
With that, I headed back to the evil everyone assumed had ensnared me.
They were not entirely wrong to think so, but it still grated. They didn’t know. They had no idea that I’d once longed for stolen time with the claws of this kingdom, and perhaps they never would.
Though I averted my gaze, Voran’s attention stayed on me until the wolves quietened again.
Darcen.
He waded into the room in an emerald coat that trailed to his snow-dampened boots. He poured some wine, smirked at the warrior nearest the table, then offered him the goblet, knowing no warrior, much less a wolf, would accept it while on duty.
He lifted his shoulder, then tossed the wine down his throat.
The door beyond the throne groaned open.
High Priestess Nellassa stepped through it. Hands clasped, she strode between the wolves who stepped aside to let her stand before them.
Not a moment later, Gore entered the throne room and bowed. “My graces.” He then bowed again as he announced, “The king and queen of Moongold.”
Cidon and Verlana arrived. The latter clutched a golden cloak at her chest and moved close to her husband while eyeing the wolves. Cidon patted his wife’s hand, draped over his arm, and led her toward the throne.
Celestine snuck in after them, and found her frowning brother halfway down the tables of food and beverages.
Now that I was a queen, I merely nodded and smiled at Cidon and Verlana. Neither returned the actions. They stood before the silver chairs awaiting them at the side of the room.
“Your graces.” Gore then announced, “The king of Coraldeen.”
Darcen leaned against the table, a chicken leg in hand, watching his father’s entrance.
King Cercaven also wore an emerald coat, buttoned to his throat. Perhaps his smile had always been so smug, and I’d failed to notice. But as he walked unhurriedly through the room, I understood I was seeing these people differently now.
Without the shadow of innocence I’d been forced to shed.
With his muscular build and his ribbon-bound dark hair, Cercaven would have been a replica of his son, were it not for his leaf-green eyes. Darcen’s mother had given her son the eyes of every Coraldeen born monarch—pure emerald.
As Cercaven found his son, I braced.
But it would be some agonizing minutes until my father finally deigned to walk through the doors of our throne room.
Gore bowed. “The king of Cloverleaf.”
My father marched past Gore before he’d finished announcing him, as if impatient to get this ceremony over with. So impatient that maybe he failed to sense the male who slipped into the throne room behind him in a hooded gray cloak.
Evexon.
My half brother paused—appeared to freeze. His dark eyes swooped over the warriors and widened. Then he quickly scampered past the tables as my father stopped just beyond the middle of the room.
As he did, Voran’s heat and scent seemed to flare.
But my father didn’t spare either of us a glance. “I see we are all accounted for.” He threw his eyes around. “Now we can agree on returning the Scale Crown to its rightful owner.”
“King Raldin.” The high priestess came forward. “The crown belongs to no one but Avyshla.”
“While that may be so, High Priestess, the mother gave it to our ancestors to guard the young of those who guard our realms,” my father responded. “More importantly, to my ancestors.”
Silence bled.
Darcen broke it with an amused chuckle. His father shot him a look that made him cough and clear his throat.
Queen Verlana sighed. “If we could just move this along, I would be most grateful. All we want is to take our reckless daughter home, where we know she will be safe.”
Celestine remained with her brother on the opposite side of the room from her parents. Her eyes half rolled. “I am perfectly safe here, Mother.”