Chapter 53
Emmerick
An hour had passed since I’d left Elsedora, stunned in the ballroom alcove. I’d felt something change between us—a spark that begged to be kindled.
I could live off the way her mouth had parted in surprise when I’d let myself talk to her the way I’d wanted to for years.
I’d thought she felt it too. My actions thereafter had been in jest. Yes, I’d spoken with the ladies of the court, but it was all pleasantries and polite small chatter. When I’d watched El slip that woman’s key into her dress, my mood had downturned.
We’d broken no new ground.
Someone tapped my shoulder. When I turned, no one was there, so I spun in the other direction to find El, mid-giggle.
“Having fun, puppy?” Elsedora held an overfilled wineglass.
Her draped in silk, keeping me an arm’s distance away, was sheer fucking torture.
“Of course,” I ground out the lie, unable to bury my annoyance with her sudden flippant behavior.
Her lips turned down ever so slightly. “You seem-t smitten with-ah pretty florist. You two make quite-ah pair.” Her syllables sloshed together.
I huffed out an exasperated sigh. El had overindulged. And it seemed she still didn’t understand that only one woman’s company appealed to me—hers.
“Please stop that,” I begged.
A dim smile, that didn’t seem at all sincere, creased her features. She shrugged. “Why? You—” She pressed a finger into my chest. “You deserve the whole dream, Emmerick.”
I could smell the fruit of the wine on her breath. I caught her hand and held it to my rapidly beating heart.
Something had happened between the moment I walked away and now; where had that sultry, self-confident temptress gone? I ground my teeth, staring down at her. How could she not believe herself worthy of all the happiness she so easily imagined for me? I’d have none of it without her.
“Elsedora. I don’t care how hard it will be,” I whispered back. “We are going to talk about what this is. I’ll get you some tea and wait until you’ve sobered up. But tonight this gets resolved.”
The torment would end.
I needed an answer—did she want me the way I wanted her? We could figure out the rest, but I couldn’t bear the thought of not ending up beside her in the morning.
“Hmm... I don’t know if tonight is a good night for me, pet,” she answered and tripped forward on the hem of her dress. I caught her before she plummeted to the onyx marble floor.
Holding on to her forearms, I searched her gaze—clouded, caged, and unyielding. I righted her and cursed beneath my breath. “Else, I can’t stand this anymore.”
Every one of my affections and hopes danced on the tip of my tongue.
But the strings quieted, drawing attention to the stage. Lark and Dritan stepped onto it, hand in hand. A familiar sword stuck out from a holster at my son’s side. Its ruby pommel caught the flickering flames from the sconces.
It’d once bore the name of Lark’s mother. Fitting it should end up with her daughter’s husband.
The blade I’d left in my chambers had a new name. I glanced over at the Wind-wielding enchantress beside me.
Lark cleared her throat, and some of the nobles quieted. Dritan’s gaze met mine; the whites of his eyes showed, and his lanky form was stiff with nerves. I nodded in encouragement.
Awkward pauses and uncertainty had filled our last conversation. I longed to tell him how differently I wished things had been. It would never forgive my not being there his whole life.
Though had I been, would he be beside the Princess wearing a golden wedding band? Maybe this was our chance for a new, better start. For all of us.
My son’s attention returned to Lark; every muscle in his body slackened as he took her in. She stood, a monument of composure, and dinged a fork against her wine flute until the party silenced.
Elsedora glanced out over the crowded room with a sense of detachment.
“Thank you all for the warm welcome that you have extended to the returning King Emmerick Mattock,” Lark said.
“In this time of renewed peace between the Corridors and the Sahlms, our greatest advantage against the evils that threaten our realms is unity. I have an announcement which reaffirms that the bonds between the Central and North Corridor have never been stronger.”
She resembled her mother so much it was uncanny—her unwavering voice, the uptilt of her chin, the subtle shake of her hands as they clasped together in front of her.
Yet she loved my son enough to stand in front of everyone here and declare it. That level of romanticism hadn’t come from either of her parents.
I spared another glance at Elsedora, who smiled up at them.
Lark’s breath caught before her next words. Her mother had drawn closer to the stage, and the Princess’ eyes widened.
Dritan’s fist clenched at his side; he looked as though he might be ill. Suddenly, it felt cowardly to make them do this alone.
I couldn’t.
With a deep sigh, I squeezed El’s arm and whispered, “Please. Don’t run off. I am taking you home tonight.” Then I reluctantly left her side.
After ascending the steps, I stood beside Lark and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“We’ll weather whatever comes next together,” I said to them both.
Confused faces stared on. The room grew so silent you could hear the crackling of wicks in the candles on each table.
Lark let out a sigh of relief and squeezed my fingers that rested on her shoulder as she continued,
“King Mattock joins us in celebrating a special occasion. I would like to introduce Prince Dritan Mattock—by blood of the North, and by marriage to the Central Corridor. My husband.” As Lark raised Dritan’s hand in the air with hers, a glass broke.
It was Krait’s.
I might end up dead by his hand after all.
Whispers cracked through the silence. Sybilla approached the podium. Krait did not; he stood stone-still, looking both pissed off and stunned.
Wyeth and Cassidee had taken my place at El’s side, keeping her upright as she broke out into a fit of drunken laughter.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Sybilla’s glare leveled me.
Sources. She hadn’t changed a bit. She’d spit venom to avoid the fact that her daughter hadn’t come to her first.
“My son, the heir to the North Corridor, has married your daughter. I stand by their union,” I stated loudly enough for the room to hear.
“Bullshit,” my oldest friend spat back with no royal composure. Asterie and Fen gathered at her side, each holding on to an arm to prevent her from flinging herself at me with claws drawn.
“I was there to witness the union,” a deep voice chimed in, then Hurley emerged beside the podium. “They are bound by marriage and by Source power. As the intended heir of the Sahlms, I, too, support their union.”
And Source power? They were so young—and yet had bound their lives to each other’s.
Sybilla’s hands balled, and Asterie’s eyes widened. I hated getting a sliver of satisfaction from seeing them thrown and reeling for an explanation. For once, I’d known something before them.
“To the newlyweds, I extend the most heartfelt congratulations!” someone shouted, stepping beside Hurley. Regon, the young Prince from the West Corridor, raised his glass. I hadn’t realized he was in attendance; Hurley balked.
A show of support from the West Corridor would help convince every lord and lady in this room that their union would bring change—the good kind.
“What are you doing here?” I caught Hurley mouthing the words to the Prince.
A risky move, given the tenuous relationship between Corridors, but Regon merely smiled and sipped his drink. Maybe there was some hope for the West’s future relations—the Prince clearly had friends here.
The whispers grew louder; a few nobles hooted their praise.
Syb’s mouth hung open.
Fire would soon spew out, engulfing us all in whatever insults she could construct on short notice.
Asterie leaned over and soothed out, “You must settle down, at least for now. This is good news, my Queen.”
I recognized that stubborn expression on Sybilla’s face. A pang of guilt settled in my gut for allowing such a public display.
Dritan pulled Lark to his side before positioning himself in front of her to shield her from the daggers Sybilla threw with her eyes.
Without hesitation, he lowered his voice and said, “I know this comes as a surprise, Queen Wymark. But please listen. I will love and support your daughter until my dying breath. I’d rather meet my end than see her face any danger alone.”
I shivered as it dawned on me—he intended to fight Caym at her side. With their bound Source magic, losing one meant we would lose them both.
Lark cast a pleading stare at her mother, whose tension had uncoiled only slightly at the boy’s words of commitment. I could see the gears turning in her mind; she realized his sacrifice, too.
He reminded me of a young, loyal Constable who would have let a Princess step on his heart if that’s what she’d so desired. Lark’s loving stare proved their story would be so much different from how mine and her mother’s had gone.
The Princess returned her attention to the ballroom and exclaimed, “Please carry on with the festivities! Join us in celebrating.” Lark motioned for the instruments to begin once more.
Sybilla pointed a shaking finger at me but then turned and stormed back to where Krait still stood like a livid statue. I imagined he was thinking of a million ways to tear me and my newly announced heir apart.
His lethal expression told me I was definitely a dead man should we meet alone.
Elsedora’s snort of laughter cut through the air as the nobles began mingling again and the energy in the ballroom rebounded to a joyous celebration.
She whispered something to a stunned-looking Wyeth. The madame who had gifted her that damned key earlier huddled up beside them and took Elsedora by the arm.
Before I could reach El, they’d left the ballroom together, and my chest tightened. She hadn’t even looked back.
After leading Dritan and Lark to my bedchamber, I unlocked the door, and we entered in awkward silence.