Chapter 54
Thousands had gathered in the streets outside the castle, jostling one another for the chance to see their new king—their former prince come back to life.
Drystan stood alone in the half-moon space overlooking the crowd below. His attire fit his station. A tailored black coat over a crisp gray shirt embroidered with gold. Black breeches and boots adorned with golden designs completed the base of the look. A gold-and-purple sash crossed his chest, shining with medals and emblems of station. He’d donned the attire several times in fittings, but it still didn’t feel quite right on him despite the tailor’s exceptional work.
Alone, he was incomplete.
Only one thing made him feel better since the gruesome battle during the midwinter party, and he waited for her on the balcony. His future bride, the country’s future queen.
It was the first question he’d asked her after he recovered enough from the battle to think clearly. Blessedly, she hadn’t kept him waiting long before giving a tearful and joyous acceptance.
Their future might not be easy, his reign presently unstable at best. Dragons still prowled the shadows, and rooting them all out might take a lifetime. Even so, he had reason to hope because he wouldn’t be doing it alone.
Drystan’s heart leaped into his throat as one of the double doors leading to the grand balcony groaned open. Commotion rose from the crowd as Ceridwen stepped out into the blinding sun.
She’d never been more resplendent than she looked today, though he often thought that, as if her beauty grew with each moment they spent together.
Despite the masses calling her name, she only had eyes for him, and he smiled at her with joy. “Radiant, as always,” he said.
“As are you.” Ceridwen took Drystan’s outstretched hand and curtsied before him, flaring out her navy-blue dress in a grand show.
Malik stepped through the doors and moved to the edge of the balcony. He called for quiet, and the crowd obeyed.
Never releasing Ceridwen’s hand, Drystan turned to face the crowd and drew her with him to the balcony’s edge. Cheers rang in his ears, wrapping them in a blanket of praise and support, before quieting once more.
Drystan’s words were meant for his people, but he looked only at Ceridwen as he gave his proclamation. “Citizens of Castamar, may I formally introduce you to Ceridwen Kinsley, soon to be Ithael, your future queen.”
Cheers rose again, louder than before. They loved her, their musician turned brave warrior, tamer of beasts, and now future queen.
Light sparkled off the diamond in the ring about her finger, a sign of their pledge, as Ceridwen curtsied once more for the crowd. She positively glowed at his side, soaking in the support the people offered.
The promise they’d made when Drystan asked her to marry him was twofold. The standard pledge of marriage: to love, honor, and respect. But also, to aid each other. If she lost her song again, he’d help her find it. If his monster resurfaced, she’d be there to sing it into submission.
Together they were balanced—light, dark, and gray.
Just as the Goddess intended.