CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE #2
Even though I didn’t recognize the other monarch’s faces, I could still guess their identities.
There was nothing subtle about the white-haired woman with glowing green eyes, Queen Elasha of Kothia, who occupied another throne across the circle from me.
Placed over her deep emerald gown were the skeletal remains of an entire human ribcage, cupping her breasts, like a custom corset—a corset of course that allowed her to channel a female ancestor, that granted her the powers of a banshee warrior.
Her skin was pale white, like the bones of the relic she wore.
I wasn’t surprised to see King Cazzon of Sivell sitting far away from the Kothian queen.
He was easy to single out since there was a phoenix perched on the armrest of his throne, its fiery-red tail feathers draping elegantly downward.
The king’s dark brown skin bore a phoenix tattoo, and his long braids were adorned with golden beads.
The phoenix surveyed the grove with an intelligent gaze. Was I imagining it, or did its eyes linger on me with interest? We had something in common now I supposed—I too had walked through the fire and been reborn.
My breathing grew suddenly erratic, my skin warm and clammy, as I thought about the magic of the phoenix feather that saved me. As I thought about what came before, images of the assassination attempt rushing in before I could repel them—like the feeling of cold steel, slicing through my flesh—
I dug my nails into my palms, took a few deep breaths, and let my gaze drift around the circle.
King Malgath of Uvrakar, a dragon capable of taking human form, settled into his throne.
My mind began to wander, trying and failing to imagine what he would look like as a dragon, how much of the grove he would encompass.
Even in his human form, his pupils were a reptilian slit, a dark line cutting through golden irises, each ringed by a bright orange hue, the color of flame.
What would the current dragon king think about the rise of the Zrocan?
Knowing his father drove the Zrocan from Uvrakar’s skies?
A woman emerged from the fog, breaking me out of my thoughts.
She wore a snowy-white fur-lined gown and moved with the same lethal grace as the winged snow leopard prowling at her side.
She had an olive complexion and midnight-black hair cuffed into an elegant bun.
Archlady Eirwen based on her pointed ears, and the wintery chill of magic swirling around her.
She must be the leader of the Winter Court.
Taking the throne next to me, she remarked, “Your throne has been empty for quite some years now, Midnight Sovereign.”
“It’s not empty anymore,” I replied, my voice seeping with pride.
Her lips curled into an approving smile as she adjusted the train of her gown.
“You’re new,” remarked another woman, sliding into the throne at my left, her cloak as black as the night, billowing mysteriously behind her despite the lack of wind, having been woven from shadow, rather than spun from wool.
Surely, I was sitting next to Queen Isadora of Adrasea, the Witch Queen.
Her skin was a rich sepia and voluminous curls crowned her head.
Her companion, a small-winged lynx, meowed a pleasant greeting at Nix before laying down.
The lynx was on the smaller side, her light gray coat speckled with dark brown spots.
Her eyes seemed to pierce right through me, the shaggy mane framing her cheeks, giving her an especially dignified appearance.
The queen ran a hand through the lynx’s fur, not bothering to turn her head, as she said, “Look for my letter in the new year. I believe I have something of value to offer you—a gift, to start Adrasea’s relationship with the new Midnight Sovereign off on the right footing.”
“I will,” I replied, wondering what she could mean.
Across from me, the final few thrones filled as the realm’s remaining monarchs made their entrance.
My attention turned toward the stage, wondering how we were meant to know whose turn it was to speak their vows. I had a brief moment of panic, picturing the opportunity passing me by as I stared confusedly at the stage, and I inched my bottom toward the edge of my throne.
Luckily, it wasn’t long before I could lay my apprehension to rest because a light flurry of snow began to fall from the sky above the stage and Archlady Eirwen rose to her feet, approaching the ancient tree stump as her winged snow leopard loyally followed.
I guessed it made sense for her to go first; it was the Winter Solstice today, after all.
I looked down at Nix, feeling a pang of sadness that the other Dentaria all possessed wings, whereas he’d lost his due to years of trauma. Not anymore, I swore passionately. We would take good care of one another from now on.
When I looked back up, Archlady Eirwen had ascended the stairs and was now standing in the center of the stage, looking out at her audience.
She held herself with a calm confidence.
“I vow to fulfill my duties as the Archlady of the Winter Court,” she began, the snow falling harder around her body as she started to speak.
“Like footprints preserved in the snow, I vow to be accountable to the paths I tread, and the rules governing my land. To keep sacred the time between life and death. To keep sacred the time between silence and speech. Just like winter itself knows when to hush, and when to roar, I will be as tranquil as freshly fallen snow when my subjects require my understanding, and as ferocious as a blizzard when they require my protection. I vow to let the land of the Winter Court sleep and regenerate, tucked into its thick blanket of heavy snowfall and long, dark nights.”
The snow flurry surrounding Archlady Eirwen began to pick up, becoming a swirling vortex, wrapping itself around her, such that we could hear her voice but no longer see her through the storm.
“And finally, I vow to protect the hearth of each and every home residing in the Winter Court, to defend my people’s right to gather close to loved ones in the cold, seeking warmth and kinship, as winter storms rage, with the knowledge that sometimes, it is through adversity that we forge the strongest bonds.
These are my vows, to my people and to my land.
May I uphold them with honor—or face the consequences. ”
As she spoke her final words, the snow vanished, and an amazed gasp escaped my lips.
She was transformed, the wintery chill of magic I’d detected around her earlier now strengthened tenfold.
She practically glowed. And for a moment, I thought I saw a thousand delicate, perfect snowflakes hovering over her body before they sank in, saturating her skin.
When she returned to her seat at my right, I couldn’t help but shiver, the icy chill of winter trailing in her wake.
And so it went, the remaining Fae courts speaking their vows after Archlady Eirwen.
The Spring Court’s turn was heralded by a light rainfall, though Archlord Ailmon’s clothes weren’t soaked when he returned to his throne after speaking elegantly of new beginnings and the land’s rebirth.
I committed his appearance to memory—his ivory complexion, his moss-green eyes, his woodland-brown hair.
After what happened, I had the feeling I would be visiting the Spring Court soon to tell him his brother lived.
I had no idea how he would take the news. Or if he truly believed him to be dead.
When Archlady Annona of the Autumn Court ascended the stage among a flurry of falling leaves, she promised to reap the land’s harvest with care and share its generous bounty with all of her people so that they might prosper from its abundance.
I admired the lithe, long-legged body of the black-spotted cat keeping her company.
Then, somehow, it was my turn—and the world went still.
Inky black tendrils painted themselves across the sky as the entire grove darkened into night.
A full moon shone overhead, illuminating the stage with pale silvery beams of moonlight.
Nix rose solemnly to his feet, waiting for me to move.
I looked around the circle, feeling many sets of expectant eyes upon me.
My gaze locked on Corvin, and he gave me a subtle, encouraging nod.
Hoping nobody could see me tremble, I rose from my throne.
Walking toward the stage, under the watchful stare of the realm’s monarchs, I was never more thankful to have Nix by my side.
Somehow, I managed to put one foot in front of the other, then climb the short set of stairs leading up to the stage.
As soon as I reached the center of the ancient tree stump, I twirled slowly around, pausing to bask in the moon’s soft glow and allow myself a small moment of awed gratitude for making it to this moment.
Nix joined me on the stage, and I found that when I began to speak, my voice was surprisingly steady.
“I vow to fulfill my duties as the Midnight Sovereign,” I started, emulating the introduction of the other monarchs, before finding my own words to continue.
“To never let anyone tell me that I don’t have the right to be here, serving this realm.
” I took a moment to look around the circle, a soft challenge in my gaze before speaking again.
“Though divided, we share the same realm. We live, ultimately, on the same land. I vow to remember that for us all. To be there for every citizen of Olayra, regardless of kingdom, or power, or money, or creed. To be an impartial entity at the center of the realm. I vow I will be a source of support for all those who come to my door, seeking aid and offering a moonstone in good faith. No one will sway me from this purpose, because I do not answer to the monarchies of this realm. The Midnight Sovereign doesn’t bow to royalty.
” I paused to give King Filvendor a pointed look.