Chapter 50 Halvar
Halvar
Today was the day the woman I loved would be given the crown she’d been born to bear.
Fae dressed in all shades of finery filled the lavishly decorated great hall.
Extra light magic floated near the rocky ceiling, while silks, flowers, and gemstones covered the rows of chairs.
Down the center of the room, heading toward the glassy throne, was an aisle draped in a thick gray rug with swirling motifs that told the tale of the Fjell Fae’s history.
Adding to the splendor, a string quartet sat to one side of the space, playing a lilting and hopeful tune.
It was all extravagant and beautiful, yet my eyes kept drifting back to the archway, waiting for something more precious to walk in.
Standing with the Council and a few select soldiers, I tugged on the collar of my uniform, then refrained from further fidgeting. This new uniform was a perfect fit, thankfully, but that didn’t ease the tension coursing through my limbs.
As if she could read my mind, Ragnhild tilted her head at me from the front row of dignified guests.
I tore my gaze away—lest anyone start asking her questions.
If there was anyone in this mountain that Freija would confide in, it was Princess Ragnhild.
I had no doubt she knew what had occurred between us.
Especially based on the looks she’d been giving me ever since she’d walked in.
The string quartet changed their tune, and the crowd turned as one, ready for the royal family’s arrival.
“Here we go,” Birger, a council member, said from my side.
I nodded, my eyes locked on the back of the room. “Here we go.”
Dignitaries, including the governors, strode in first. Hans was among them, shoulders hunched, eyes wide and staring at the floor, looking like he’d much rather blend into the crowd or be anywhere but here.
He’d been equally petrified when I interrogated him about Aksel’s employment, but thankfully, Hans had nothing to do with the scheming bastard.
His na?veté had merely been taken advantage of.
I scoffed. He really would never have done well with Freija.
Sure, they both had some mutual interests, but she needed someone who wouldn’t shy away from all of this or cast a blind eye to the threats that lurked in the shadows.
Nora followed them in a dark gray gown that brought out the rosiness in her round cheeks, and sparkled as much as the silver tiara on her head. She settled beside Ragnhild in the first row as the crowd turned back to take in the next arrival.
Queen Astrid stepped into the archway. Still in the onyx of mourning, her dress adorned with gold rope, she looked every bit the Queen she had been for centuries.
One whom grief had found and latched on to.
She ambled down the aisle, taking in kind words from her subjects, before stepping onto the other end of the dais from where I stood.
The music shifted once more, and all eyes, my own included, spun back to the entrance.
Freija.
I sucked in a breath.
Beautiful was not a sufficient word. It could not possibly encompass what stood beneath the glittering archway.
She radiated life and love, from the diamonds woven into her pinned-up hair to the majestic purple gown that perfectly hugged her curves like it had been sewn onto her with fine silver threads.
Then there was that smile—confident, formidable, a force to be reckoned with.
She was everything.
A queen.
The queen this mountain and the Fae of the Fjell needed and deserved.
She started her long walk down the aisle, smiling and nodding to fae along the way.
Mentally, I was still in that ship cabin with her, watching the way her eyes creased when she smiled, listening to the sweet gasps when I caressed her inner thigh, relishing the way we wove together.
Physically, I watched her every step as she made her way toward her destiny.
For there was no doubt—for me or anyone present—that this person before us was meant to lead and rule.
She came to a stop before the throne and knelt on the first step of the dais. The cape on her dress spread out behind her like a lifeline to the people at her back.
The crowd settled into their seats, and the music faded to a close.
Birger moved from my side and stepped between Freija and the throne, an open book in hand. “Who comes before this mountain seeking to rule?”
“I do,” Freija replied. “May the mountain and its people hear my oath.”
“And do you take this oath willingly, under neither duress nor coercion?”
“I do. Neither temptation nor malcontent bring me here today.” She swallowed hard, but kept her head up, her shoulders locked in place. Not backing down from the momentous occasion.
“Do you, Freija, daughter of Erik and Astrid, swear to protect and care for the Fae of the Fjell for the rest of your days?” Birger asked.
Hands clasped in her lap, she raised her chin. “I solemnly promise to do so.”
“And do you promise to use law and justice, mercy and good faith, in all your judgments?”
“I do.”
“Should peril strike our mountain home, do you promise to heal and defend from further strife?”
“I do, and with every tendril of magic the ancestors may bestow.”
Birger shut his book, stared down at Freija, and took a deep breath. “To these oaths you so swear.”
Freija nodded. “I do.”
A small motion was made and Queen Astrid stepped behind the throne before moving in front of her daughter with the crown.
A thick circlet of silver with swirling motifs held up seven triangular spikes, each one representing one of the great Nordic mountains, the tallest of which housed a large diamond with a slight blue tint to it.
When she turned it just so, it glinted the same color as the throne.
“Daughter of the fjell,” Astrid said, her elegant voice carrying across the room as she set the circlet atop Freija’s head. “Now Queen of us all. Long may you reign.”
A gentle smile passed between the two women as Freija rose and stepped past her mother. An invisible passing of the torch from one generation to the next.
Freija stood before the throne, took her mother’s hands in her own and gave them a quick squeeze.
“I’m so proud of you,” Astrid whispered, her back to the crowd so no one could see the words passing between her and her daughter.
Freija smiled at her mother, and the sight made even my cold heart swell with happiness.
A moment later, Astrid stepped back, curtsied to the new Queen, and resettled in her spot on the dais.
Freija turned and took her seat on the throne, staring out at the crowd. Silence descended once more, everyone waiting with bated breath and awe-filled gazes for her to recite the final lines of the oath.
“The things which I have heretofore promised, I will perform and keep.” She peered to one side, our eyes meeting for the briefest second, before facing the gathering again. “Until the ancestors call me home.”
My heart stopped beating. That last bit wasn’t part of the oath.
“All hail the Queen of the Fjell!” Birger roared.
“Queen of the Fjell! Queen of the Fjell! Queen of the Fjell!” the room chanted, voices echoing louder and louder. But I couldn’t breathe or stop smiling.