Chapter 43
Larkspur
Aunt El had left an hour prior, and I’d busied myself in the paddock combing through Sparkles’ mane. The old pony grew more surly by the year—she bit me twice.
When I returned to the parlor, the King had dressed in a freshly pressed tunic and a dark blue jacket with gold seams. He’d tamed his hair and shaved. Now he looked far less mussed than how I’d found him with Aunt El this afternoon.
I smirked at the thought of Aunt El inevitably denying anything had transpired. It took none of my Reverist abilities to see she held affection for the North Corridor King; he was even more obvious.
“Ready, King Mattock?” I asked.
“Emmerick,” he corrected. “If you don’t mind the informality. The last time I was King Mattock, it landed me in twenty cursed years of sleep.”
I huffed a laugh. “My mother would be proud—she said you used to be very strict with courtly manners and titles.”
He rolled his shoulders back; his discomfort filled the room. “I used to be a lot of things,” he mused. “But yes, I’m ready when you are, Princess.”
I supposed the informality would be one-sided, then.
He collected a plain iron dagger and stuck it in his boot.
“Algarnd isn’t a great distance. I should be able to Shadow us both without issue, but you’ll need to hold on to me.” I extended my dominant hand on impulse, and his eye caught on the shining gold adorning my finger. By the bittersweet indecision coursing through the air, I knew he’d noticed.
His jaw tensed, and he looked conflicted about what to say. “Is that news?” He nodded down at the ring.
I let the metal catch the afternoon sunlight. After a hard swallow, I said, “Not news anyone has heard yet,” I admitted.
After a lengthy pause, he asked, “May I give you my two coins?” His brow pinched with concern. Sources, he looked so much like Dritan when he did that—I wanted to spill all our unspoken secrets.
“Certainly. So long as it won’t offend you if I choose not to spend them,” I answered and braced for his reprimand.
I refused to be made to feel foolish for marrying his son.
Dritan had won my love over the course of nearly a decade. With or without anyone’s approval, he was eternally mine.
Emmerick’s lips turned up at the sides. “I know your mother. Better than most, save for your father. This is not how you want her to hear such an exciting announcement. Word travels fast from Corridor to Corridor. She’ll lose her temper and say things she doesn’t mean—you might too.”
I crossed my arms. “What would you have me do, then?”
He shook his head. “Put the ring away—for now. Your mother deserves an explanation that doesn’t come on the winds of rumor. And your aunt doesn’t deserve to be shocked by you flaunting a wedding band while we speak with a tenuous ally.”
I straightened. Who was he to tell me to mask my love for the benefit of others’ emotions? “I will not hide him. I won’t be ashamed,” I argued as my cheeks heated with anger.
The King didn’t match my intensity. “Yet he is not here by your side,” he said, and despite the dig, his expression softened.
Dritan had headed back to Helos this morning to continue his apprenticeship. With great effort, I’d parted from him in the dark before dawn.
I retorted, “He will be. When he is ready.” I wouldn’t force my husband to meet his father.
Emmerick glanced around as though toiling with some trinket in the parlor might ease his concern. “I’m not telling you to be ashamed. Quite the opposite. I appreciate your loyalty. I do—truly.”
“It’s everything I once wished to hear from your mother at that age.” His thought slipped into my head, and my arms fell to my sides.
My heart pounded because we were dangerously close to the truth. It wasn’t a lost fact that he’d once cared for Mama—Aunt El had told me—but I hadn’t realized the depth of his devotion; resentment still lingered. It stunned me silent.
“He’s kind to you?” he surprised me by asking.
My lips tugged up, and I nodded.
“You love one another?”
“Yes,” I shot back, not wanting to be doubted further.
“Then, wouldn’t you like to share the news together? To celebrate this? The minute your boots hit Algarnd with you wearing that ring, they will spin the narrative for you. For him. I’m not urging you to hide anything. Just to delay the truth until you can properly celebrate.”
Twisting the band with my thumb, I sighed.
I hated to admit he was right about one thing—Haag Bringham would wag his tongue.
He was wrong about another. No celebration would come of this. Marriage was never something my parents, unlike most royals, sought for me.
They would try to persuade me not to risk the curse on our lineage. Bearing an heir would mean the end of my immortality; my actions could set the prophecy off course. They’d beg me to stay dedicated to my duties to the realms.
I was.
But this was my choice.
“I don’t think anyone will be happy with the news. He’s a good man,” I defended. “But I fear it won’t mean much to my parents. They’ll try to push us apart.”
Emmerick’s shoulders slackened. “It may seem that way—but maybe give them a chance to prove you wrong?”
My gaze narrowed between his eyes. The last thing I’d thought I’d be doing today was having a heart-to-heart with my new father-in-law.
A pang of guilt struck me. Dritan should be here. He should hear this advice too.
“Fine. We will tell them when we return as not to muddy up any of our meetings this week.” Reluctantly, I slipped the ring off and secured it within my belt bag. “But it is only because I see how it may be in Dritan’s best interest. But I have one condition...”
Emmerick snorted a laugh, as though that amused him. He mumbled, “The apple truly doesn’t fall far.”
I shrugged while pressing my lips in a line to avoid smiling. “We’ll share the news in Helos during your recrowning.”
He tapped his foot on the dark wood floor, contemplating. “I hate the pomp of parties, but fine. If that is what you wish.”
“My parents are less likely to lose their temper during a celebration in front of others.”
He assessed me with a knowing gleam in his eye. “It’s the boy who helped you unbind me, isn’t it?”
I stiffened at the thought of that night, when I’d so thoroughly broken Aunt El’s trust. And her heart. “Yes,” I answered, keeping my tone flat.
“Now, I’ll admit something to you,” Emmerick said as he extended his hand to allow me to Shadow us to the West Corridor. “I think he is my son.”
All the air left my lungs. He tracked the widening of my eyes and my parted lips that betrayed my emotions. I’d never been good at hiding them.
When I’d recomposed myself, I hesitated to take his hand.
“It seems like you already knew that,” he added.
I nodded. “It sounds like we both have important conversations to return to, doesn’t it?”
Dritan had long spoken of the memorandum that his mother had left him; he carried it everywhere. It’d told him to look for King Mattock—that Dritan was the heir to the North Corridor, that Emmerick was a kind man who would accept him.
Hating myself for it, I pressed through the wards of the North King’s thoughts. I needed to protect my husband’s heart in case she was wrong. So, I barreled through the barricades of his mind. The carcanet made it easy.
Heartbreak. The pain nearly made me hunch over.
The King warred with guilt.
Over not being there to see Dritan grow up.
Over the loss of the Fire-wielding enchantress we believed to be Dritan’s mother.
Over missing out on years, and moments, and laughter.
Underlying hope strung his every thought—hope that he might do better, hope that Dritan wouldn’t blame him, hope that the news wouldn’t taint the way Aunt Elsedora saw him.
“It’s rude to wander in someone else’s head, Princess. I never enjoyed when your mother did so, either.”
“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t.
His thoughts made clear how welcome Dritan would be in his court, in his life.
“Thank you,” he said.
My brow furrowed. “For what?”
“For being his family—for keeping him safe.”
Fighting swelling tears, I nodded and took his hand, abruptly Shadowing us away, unready to speak of my husband’s wishes.
But my heart sang for the man I loved.