Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
KIERAN
The parlor door burst open, pushed by shadows that curled ahead of me like loyal hounds. Conversations died mid-sentence. Twenty pairs of eyes turned toward me as I entered. Some widened with surprise, most narrowed in wariness.
My aunt sat on a plush settee, a crystal goblet of blood dangling from her manicured fingers. Her smile froze when our gazes locked.
“Your Majesty,” Lord Rathley rose from beside her, bowing stiffly. “We did not expect—”
“Clearly.” I moved to the center of the room, letting silence stretch like a living thing. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to. “It has been brought to my attention that certain members of this court believe they can disrespect the queen.”
No one moved. Barely anyone breathed.
“My marriage to Queen Cyrene is not a political convenience to be tolerated.” The lie tasted bitter, considering that’s exactly what it was meant to be. “It’s the future of this kingdom.”
My gaze found my aunt’s again, who had gone perfectly still. “And those who cannot accept that future may find themselves without one.”
The shadows around me deepened, spreading along the floor. A cousin twice removed flinched as darkness crawled up the leg of his chair.
“Madeline,” I growled.
“Your Majesty?” Her voice wavered.
“You questioned my queen’s magic. Her intentions. Her place at my side.” I stepped closer. “You will never do so again.”
She swallowed. “It was merely conversation—”
“It was merely treason.”
The word fell like a stone into a calm pool of water. Gasps whispered through the room.
“Disrespect toward the queen is disrespect toward me.” I swept my gaze around the room, meeting each pair of eyes, watching them all drop theirs to the floor. “I will not tolerate it.”
Lord Rathley cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, surely—”
“Was I unclear, Lars?”
He paled. “No, sire.”
“Good.” I pulled the shadows back to me. “Madeline, you are dismissed from court for one month. Use the time to consider your loyalties.”
Her mouth fell open. “But the Solstice Festival—”
“Will proceed without you.”
I turned to leave but paused at the doorway. “One more thing.”
Everyone tensed.
“My queen brings joy magic to a kingdom that has forgotten what that feels like. You should thank her for it.” My smile made several nearby wince. “I certainly do.”
I left them, my shadows trailing behind me like a cloak.
I stalked outside and took a long walk through the woods, telling myself to calm down. Telling myself I couldn’t return to the parlor and kill them all. Finally, my tension eased, and I returned inside, striding to my rooms.
By the time I reached my floor, the knot of tension in my chest had loosened, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. I opened the door, expecting to find her waiting, perhaps ready to demand details of what I’d said.
The sitting room was empty, lit only by a single lamp. The bedroom door stood partly open.
I approached, stopping at the threshold.
Cyrene lay curled on her side of the bed, her hair spilling across the pillow in dark waves. She’d tucked one hand beneath her cheek, and the other rested on an open book. She wore a simple nightdress that had ridden up, exposing her smooth legs and the lower part of her thighs.
I suspected she hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and the realization sent a pang through me.
Her face held such peace, the worry lines smoothed from her brow, her lips slightly parted. Her magic hummed in the air around her, a gentle golden current that made the shadows in the room retreat.
I moved silently to her side and carefully extracted the book from her grip, marking her place before setting it on the bedside table. I tugged up the blankets, draping them over her.
A strand of her hair had fallen across her face. I reached out and gently brushed it away. She mumbled in her sleep, turning toward my touch, and my chest tightened.
Six years of carefully constructed walls, and she could crumble them with just a sigh.
If I had any sense, I would rebuild my walls higher. Instead, I only wanted to hand her the bricks and beg her to stay inside with me.
My fingers lingered near her shoulder. In sleep, she looked unguarded. More like the Cyrene I’d met at the fair six years ago, before everything changed. Before I’d changed.
I’d sent her a letter, but it appeared she hadn’t received it. She thought I had left her without explanation, that I’d abandoned her. And now I’d bound her to me again, for political gain. For the kingdom. For a treaty.
Yet when I’d kissed her…
Her magic brushed against mine, and I sucked in the wonderful feeling. I’d spent years commanding darkness, yet one sleeping witch made me crave the light. Fates, she was going to ruin me, and I couldn’t even make myself care.
I sighed, pulling back. We were both trapped in this charade, but only one of us deserved to be.
Moving to the window, I gazed out at the night.
The moon hung like a silver coin above the forest, casting long shadows across the grounds.
Inside the maze, the last traces of her magic still glimmered.
Light and dark were never meant to coexist, but fates, didn’t they make something beautiful when they tried?
I could still hear my aunt’s snide voice at dinner, the veiled insults, the implications about Cyrene bewitching me. The irony wasn’t lost on me. If I’d been bewitched, it was six years ago, by a girl with sunlight in her smile who’d believed I could be someone better than what I truly was.
I glanced back at Cyrene, watching the rise and fall of her chest.
Maybe we could find our way back to something real. Beneath the politics and resentment, there could still be—
Those were dangerous thoughts.
Still, as I prepared for bed in the adjoining dressing room, I couldn’t stop hope from taking root. Perhaps we could build something genuine from this arrangement. That the kiss we’d shared might be the first step.
I eased beneath the blankets, wishing I could wrap my arms around her and tug her near.
I woke to sunlight streaming through curtains I’d forgotten to close and an empty bed. I sat up, listening. The castle was never truly silent. There were too many servants, too many guards, too much ancient magic humming within the walls. But I heard something else.
Humming came from the tower adjacent to our sitting room I’d renovated for my wife.
I got up, bathed, and dressed quickly, then made my way toward the kitchen, nodding to guards along the way.
Despite consuming blood most of the time, we did occasionally eat real food. I also kept a full staff because I hoped one day to entertain more than only vampires.
The kitchen staff bowed when I entered.
“Your Majesty,” the head cook stammered. “We weren’t expecting—that is—your beverage is prepared and will be sent—”
“I’ll prepare the queen’s tray myself,” I said.
Silence fell, broken only by the clatter of a dropped spoon.
“It’s not that unusual,” I said. “You may not remember, but my mother used to bring me here when I was small. She taught me how to cook.” She enjoyed food more than many vampires, and she loved preparing new dishes.
“Ah, yes, I believe I remember you two coming here in the evening sometimes.” The cook stepped backward long enough to grab a tray from a cupboard and hand it to me.
The subtle scent caught the air, and I sucked it in along with the memories of the time we’d shared them.
“Honey scones?” I asked, and the head cook waved to where a pile of them rested on a platter. “I’ll prepare her tea as well if you have a pot and can point me to the herbs.”
Soon I’d crafted something that smelled amazing. I added a napkin and a bowl of berries, then lifted the tray.
“Will there be anything else, Your Majesty?” the head chef asked, her face darkening.
I surveyed the tray, then nodded toward a small crystal vase. “Could you fill that with water while I collect something from the garden?”
She looked utterly bemused, but while she took the vase to the sink, I stepped outside and selected the perfect bloom, sliding it into the vase on the tray.
With it in hand, I dipped my head to the staff. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” they murmured as one, their eyes wide and their mouths agape.
Moments later, I carried the tray up the winding stairs to the tower room, a single white daisy standing in the vase. I didn’t trust anyone else to carry something meant for my wife. My court would call this spoiled indulgence. Kings had been ruined for less.
The humming grew louder as I approached.
I paused partway up the steps, wondering if this was a mistake. Was this too domestic or presumptuous?
Too late now.
I continued up the stairs, taking care not to spill the tray.
The tower room had been transformed. When I’d started to prepare it, it had been empty except for a large table, bookshelves, and tall windows that let in more light than anywhere else inside the castle.
Now it brimmed with life. Plants crowded the windowsills, most flowering in impossible colors.
Glass jars lined the shelves, filled with herbs, dried petals, and things I couldn’t name but had been recommended to me by Cyrene’s grandmother.
She’d added her own things. A perch for Quandary, books filling one of the shelves, and lanterns…
I’d mourned the loss of the lantern I’d bought six years ago when it finally failed, taking its joy along with it.
The remnants were still tucked inside my office in a box I’d built myself from mystwood.
Too many times, I’d pulled the box out of the drawer and opened it, gently touching the fragments before tucking it away again.
Books lay open on every surface, some hovering a few inches above the table.
Cyrene stood in the center of it all, her back to me, her hair twisted into a knot on the top of her head. She wore a light blue dress, and her feet were bare. Her hands moved in delicate patterns above a bowl of liquid, which reflected her movements in ripples of golden light.
She was magnificent.