Chapter 26
Aiden
your presence sets my soul ablaze,
and worship grants my relief.
When Eira requested an audience with myself and the King, I would be lying if I said I was surprised at what was revealed.
Vale’s odd behavior in recent weeks, combined with Nykholas and Lili in the kitchens today, paints a picture that makes sense.
Theron’s involvement is unsurprising. His demeanor has always been off, just like the rest of his God-forsaken family, who will be placed under investigation immediately.
The life drained from my uncle’s face, and the second Eira finished, he rushed from the dining room, leaving his dinner and his composure behind him.
His spirited commands echo down the halls.
“Bring Vale and Kian to me at once! Arrest the Volker on this list! Prepare a room immediately, no, the finest threads! Fetch the physicians, ready food, and wine! Erect the strongest wards! Send word to the territories!”
I remain behind with her, watching her hands twisting together.
I know what she is thinking; she should have told me sooner.
Her ability to carry guilt is her biggest and only flaw, though it is one I benefit from most days.
However, if there is one thing I understand, it is loyalty to the crown.
Eira acted as she believed she must, and I can hardly fault her for that.
Even if a wave of heat pulses through my fingers at the thought of her and Nykholas having more secrets.
And if he acquires one more inch of her mind, I may have him reassigned to the furthest edge of the kingdom.
It is becoming a problem for me. I force a reassuring smile, hoping to convey that I am not upset, but she sighs.
She can read me like a book. I am not so irritated at Eira as I am at the idea of Kaed and my half-sister coming back to this palace.
But I swallow it. Time to do the right thing.
Yet again. I gesture for her to walk out of the room in front of me.
The great Captain is coming home. The Princess, the hope of our people, has been found.
No thanks to Cinder Cliffs, who could have released the ritual information and saved us all a lot of time.
This will not soon be forgotten. But for the meantime, the King’s joy is infectious, though I seem to be immune.
Hope buzzes through the hallways, the walls, and the floors.
In amongst all the preparation, I fall into step by his side as he smiles, really smiles, and I ask him where she will sleep.
He stops to twirl a servant around who shrieks in glee, then runs off to join the rest of her colleagues by a window.
Even the creatures in the Seas Above are gathering slowly towards the arena.
“My boy, my son. I hope you know I love you, and I am proud of you. I never wanted to be like my tyrannical father, who never said it. I want you to know in your heart that you are loved.” He grasps my shoulder, locking eyes with me.
My chest warms with pride; his love has never wavered, and still, the words do not grow old.
That someone could love me, all of me. No elixir, nothing to gain. Some days, I cannot believe it.
“I know, your Majesty.”
“Ah, surely we are past formalities now.”
A maid chuckles while she sweeps the already clean floor.
“Uncle, I will, of course, do what I need to, but there are plenty of other rooms for her. I am not in a hurry to remove my mother’s things. Please reconsider.”
“She deserves the best. Just like your mother did.”
He once told me, A ruler’s duty is not to his own comfort, but to the comfort of his people. So, I nod.
“I understand.”
And I do. But I do not like it.
*
Deafening cheers erupt from the arena floor.
A thunderous cacophony of war cries, whoops, and the crackle of celebratory sparks.
Though, I am immediately distracted by the warm squeeze of Eira’s hand in mine as she watches the Seas Above, her wide, beautiful smile, and her little squeal warm the cold thing in my heart.
The thing that wants to chain our souls together permanently, until neither crown nor kingdom could pry them apart.
Kaed descends through the clouds, his powerful wings of roaring fire, onyx smoke, and ash beat through the mists.
Flanking him are some of his lieutenants, accompanied by airborne beasts and riders.
They land gracefully in the centre of the crowd, which parts for the King and I.
Cheers are instantly replaced by a reverent silence just as Kaed stands in the clearing, clutching the Princess’s limp body against his chest. He drops to one knee, holding her as if she weighs nothing at all, and perhaps she does not.
Her body looks to have been surviving on regeneration alone.
“My King.”
Kaed’s deep, husky voice reverberates through the hushed arena.
He looks so different, hidden beneath the scruff of hair and scum.
The King sinks to his knees before them.
I stay some paces away, wondering if my uncle can smell the half-activated bond the way I can.
It wears the Captain like a sickness. So rancid it is in the air, pulsing like their hearts that now beat as one.
It does not seem like he can. Though it is written all over Kaed’s face, his dilated pupils and flushed cheeks.
A humourless smirk tugs at my lips. He kissed her.
Gently, the King takes his niece’s hand, his other lifting to stroke Kaed’s dirt-streaked cheek.
“She lives,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “They live!” His voice thunders like a rallying cry. The crowd explodes once more, joy rippling through the grounds, then coming to a sudden halt when the King raises his hand.
“As you were!” He commands, a smile lighting up his face, “Go, prepare, celebrate! We will attend to our Princess and our Captain. You will see them soon enough, and soon enough we will be free.” The crowd disperses, their squeals and shouts bubbling with relief as Pyrelings streak through the air in the hundreds, racing to deliver word that the Princess has returned.
She is still pressed tightly to Kaed’s chest, his body hunched around hers as physicians approach cautiously.
Their shaking hands reach to free her, but a single glance strips the courage from their bones; it is enough to remind them he is the heir of power itself.
The grandson of pure-blood rulers from every court, his parents’ union answered the Creed.
Seconds stretch painfully into minutes while they work under his scowl.
His growl is low and rumbles from somewhere deep, and they unclasp his fingers one by one. I chuckle to myself.
“Captain,” the King says, “I am pleased you are home. Rest and restore yourself, son. You must know that you and the Princess are in good hands. Also, you dropped something when you were last here.”
The King unsheathes a double-bladed weapon from his back, its curved edges reminiscent of a scythe.
“Swap you?” He smiles, a twinkle in his eye.
Kaed’s fiery glare locks onto it. He presses the handle into the Captain’s palm just as he finally releases the Princess to the physicians.
Magic shoots through the blade, which is clearly very pleased to be back with its’ owner.
He stands and bows low, clutching the sword to his chest. Concern hangs heavy on the lieutenants’ faces.
Their brows knit together as they watch their friend.
He cannot tear his eyes from the Princess, who is now suspended in the air by the physician’s magic.
The King gives me a subtle incline of his head, and I oblige, trailing behind them.
I glance back once more at Kaed. The unshakable Captain of the Kings Volker.
Our symbol of unyielding strength. He takes a single, faltering step toward Nykholas, Leander and Tobian, and his legs buckle.
His towering body crumples as they rush forward to catch him, their arms wrapping around him, bearing his weight.
Knuckles white against their clothes, he clings to them.
Silently, his chest heaves, breath shuddering, while the sobs he has not been able to release tear through his entire body.