“We don’t have much time.” He bent and scooped her into his arms.
Every muscle in her body went lax. He felt strong, solid, warm, someone she could rely on and lean against. She glanced at his wings, the webbing of which was still torn. “Are you certain you can fly?”
Alaric stretched his wings open and winced. “Far enough to get us to safety, but not all the way to the palace.”
He turned toward the slope, facing the open sky. The moon dominated the dome above, but the sun was fighting back, shoving its way over the horizon. His wings rustled softly before he began flapping. Snow flurried around them, kissing her cheeks with cold little stings.
Alaric took a few running steps before launching into the air, toward the dying night and the awakening dawn.
27
Getting Married. Again
Two Weeks Later
It was crazy, the kinds of things Evelyn had done for love: cleaning up a vomit-coated floor, saying no to the guy she’d thought she loved, taking the risk of being poisoned by her crime lord father.
And now she was getting married. Again. This time, with her consent.
She stood with Alaric in the empty expanse of floor between Alaric’s desk and the fireplace, the footboard of the bed a few feet behind them. It provided a much cozier setting for a wedding than the throne room. The Healer stood before them, ready to conduct the ceremony, and the fairies fluttered a few feet behind her.
She peeked up at Alaric and smiled, even though he couldn’t see through the veil.
But he seemed to sense her regard and returned the smile.
Everything had ended perfectly. Alaric had met her father and granted him lordship over a piece of land in Silva, though her father still spent most of his time on Earth with Kimberly. Using the list her father had given him, Alaric had sent knights to track down the remaining crime lords. A few of their apprentices had escaped. It appeared they’d headed south, toward Taijeng.
It was slightly disconcerting to think that they were headed the same direction as Draven. Hopefully they hadn’t realized Sephtis had betrayed the other crime lords. If so, they might attempt to avenge their masters by hurting Draven, given he was Sephtis’ apprentice.
The Healer stepped forward to speak. “I’m sure both Your Majesties are quite aware of Torva’s history, so I take it there’s no need for a monologue. Would you like to continue to the Crowning?”
Zinnia pumped her fist. “Oh, yeah!” The only person Zinnia could tolerate talking excessively was, well, herself.
Alaric quirked an eyebrow at Zinnia before shifting his regard to the Healer. “Yes, we would.”
“King Alaric of Torva, you may crown Evelyn Smith of Earth.” The Healer gestured to a low table topped with two cushions, one weighted with a heavy crown and the other with a slender circlet.
Alaric folded back her veil. He trailed a lock of her blond hair with his finger, his eyes shining in approval. Alaric had sent knights to purchase another box of dye for her, so she could revert her hair back to its original color for their wedding. She would have used the box of dye she’d bought on Earth, but it’d been lost when the Scorpio had taken her backpack. In addition, he’d also asked the knights to bring her back a year’s worth of expensive African coffee. Needless to say, she was extremely pleased.
The Healer cleared her throat.
Alaric blinked slowly before striding to the table and plucking the circlet from its cushion. He turned back and settled the circlet on her head.
It sank into the veil, and the compass rose rested against her forehead.
He swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing. His fingertips barely grazed her cheek, as if he were afraid he’d break her. “You are my queen. And my beloved.” He enunciated each syllable carefully, as if savoring the taste of the words.
The Healer nodded toward Evelyn, silver hair rippling. “Evelyn Smith of Earth, you may crown King Alaric of Torva.”
She tore her gaze from Alaric’s before walking to the table. She curled her fingers beneath the crown’s rim and lifted it upward. It was heavier than she’d remembered. She walked back toward Alaric as gracefully as possible with the heavy load. Her silver dress glided over her legs as she moved.
Alaric was already kneeling. His emerald eyes darted toward her before he bent his head. A black lock dangled over his forehead.
A slight tremor ran through her fingers as she crowned him. “You are my king and my beloved.” Evelyn brushed the lock of hair to the side. This time, she meant every word.
He glanced back up again, their gazes locking before he straightened.
The Healer clasped her hands. “Now for the hand binding ceremony.”
Evelyn smiled. Oh, she remembered this part. She’d been working on her Five Vows all day. She splayed her fingers and held her palms toward Alaric.
He pressed his hands to hers, his callouses scratching against her skin.
The Healer glided forward with a little bowl brimming with loops of gold and silver.
Alaric removed his left hand from hers to pick out a gold loop. He dropped it over his right pinky, pressed to her left pinky. “I vow to protect you from any who would dare wish you harm.” He tugged on the piece of ribbon protruding from the loop. The loop tightened around their pinkies, tying them together.
And her heart tightened a little too.
He picked up another loop of ribbon and dropped it over their ring fingers. “I vow to be patient as you adjust to this new life.” He tightened the loop. The next ribbon went over their middle fingers. “I vow to guide you with gentleness.” Then their index fingers. “I vow to be understanding when you face trials.”
He’d gone above and beyond in fulfilling those vows. He’d been so patient and gentle, even when she’d hurt him.
He plucked the last golden ribbon from the bowl. The silk slid over their thumbs. Their gazes collided, his emerald eyes shimmering with sincerity. “I vow to be as faithful as the sun is to rise in the morning and set in the evening, treasuring you alone as mine.”
A smile burst on her face. He’d kept his vows. It was time she kept hers.
The Healer dropped a silver loop onto their pinkies.
“I vow to be wise in my thoughts and decisions as I stand by your side as queen.” Evelyn pressed her lips to their joined fingers, clamped onto the loose section of ribbon with her teeth, and pulled it tight with her mouth.
The next ribbon slid over their ring fingers.
“I vow to be compassionate, an example of mercy and kindness to the people of Torva.” She tightened the ribbon and glanced upward.
Alaric’s eyes twinkled, and his mouth curved.
The Healer dropped a loop over their middle fingers.
“I vow to be considerate in the decisions I make, thoughtful of my actions, and aware of how they affect you.” She tightened the loop.
Then the index fingers.
“I vow to be faithful to you. Just as you are mine, I am yours and yours alone.”
Alaric’s gaze darted downward, and his jaw muscle hardened. She knew what he was remembering. Or who, rather. He glanced back up, his gaze fierce and protective, and lightly pressed his fingers against hers. “Thank you, Evelyn. I appreciate that more than you know.”
And finally, their thumbs were bound. This was supposed to be her strongest vow.
She tilted her head back to capture his full expression. “I vow to love you by choice, regardless of circumstances or wayward emotions.”
A single breath escaped through his parted lips before he half-stepped toward her, bringing them chest-to-chest.
She pressed her lips slowly to their joined thumbs, before she tugged the ribbon tight.
The Healer stepped forward and nodded toward Evelyn. “King Alaric of Torva, you may kiss your bride.”
He leaned closer, until his breath feathered across her cheek. He kissed her, his lips warm, his touch gentle. And then it ended. He straightened before stepping back. They were unab
le to lower their bound hands to their sides, so they dropped their hands to the height of Alaric’s waist. The Healer and fairies applauded.
Alaric was studying her, his emerald eyes intense and unblinking. His chest barely moved.
Maybe he wanted to know if she’d liked their kiss. She beamed at him, her heart melting. The kiss didn’t matter; Alaric did. She stepped forward, so they were toe-to-toe.
She pressed her cheek to his chest, wishing she could wrap her arms around him. “I love you.”
He bent forward, so his chin touched the top of her head. His back was probably killing him from bending that far down. “I love you too.”
They parted. She wasn’t sure who’d stepped back first.
One of the fairies sniffled.
The Healer’s applause slowed. “Now, let’s begin the Hand Bound dance.”
She remembered this dance. Cold shot through her chest before the feeling receded as she recalled the sheer despair she’d nearly drowned in. This time, it was love tightening her chest and warmth flooding her heart.
His rough palms brushed against hers as they moved. They first stepped together, then apart. To the left, then the right. He twirled his arm around her. He moved forward, and she danced back a step. She corrected herself a few times, but only after half-performing a move. She was better than she’d been the first time, but they should’ve practiced.
Evelyn flushed and glanced at the fairies and the Healer.
Zinnia and Clover were trying to perform the dance in the air. Camellia was trying to dance with the Healer. The Healer’s hands were pressed together, so Camellia could touch both of her palms at once. Both were smiling.
Once Evelyn had gotten the rhythm of the dance, her steps mirroring Alaric’s, she let herself drift back to her Room. Dust had gathered from the time she’d been away. Since she’d come to Torva, she’d started visiting it less and less. But maybe that was for the best.
Evelyn slowly spun around the Room, the wooden floor smooth against her bare feet, the purple walls twirling around her. She’d used this mental retreat of hers to escape reality, and she’d adorned it with imaginary objects to fill the gaping hole her father had left, ever since he’d told her she wasn’t his daughter.
She used to find comfort in these objects and the memories they’d represented—a jar of candy Kimberly had given her for her birthday ten years ago, the dance trophy she’d pretended to receive with her mom at her side, a ragged stuffed cat her nanny had sewn for her.
Now she looked at these possessions and saw pain. At first, she’d clung to her friends, then boys, then Mason, then her mother, thinking those relationships could fix what her father had broken. But only she could choose to pick up the shards of herself and choose to love despite the hurt.
She was a new person now. Perhaps she should strip the walls bare and give the Room a new coat of paint. She could remodel things.
Or perhaps it was time to leave her Room for good. It’d served its purpose for a time, but it was a coping mechanism she no longer needed.
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder and noticed a door she’d never seen before, painted in crisp white. She approached the door before opening it. The hinges squeaked as if they’d never been used before. And then she stepped out of her Room, into the sunlight. She pulled the door shut behind her as she squinted against the glare of the sunlight, revealing rolling meadows and forests as far as she could see. The Room had been small and confined in comparison.
All along, she’d thought her Room was her safe haven. In reality, she’d merely been constructing a prison out of her own comforts.
“Is it everything you’ve dreamed of?” Alaric asked.
Her attention snapped back to him, his bedroom replacing the wide-open meadows and forests. She stumbled before correcting herself. “I don’t need dreams anymore, Alaric.”
He returned her stare steadily, remaining silent.
Her chest tightened until it ached. And it wasn’t the corset. “May we end the dance? I’d like to talk with you once they’re gone.”
He stopped and nodded. “Of course.”
The fairies and the Healer stopped dancing as well.
“I suppose you’ll want some privacy?” the Healer asked.
Zinnia snorted before Clover cupped a hand over Zinnia’s mouth.
Alaric nodded. “Evelyn and I would appreciate it.”
The Healer dipped into a curtsey, while Evelyn tried not to be jealous of her grace. “Then enjoy the rest of the evening, Your Majesties.” The Healer glided out of the room with a soft smile. Zinnia, Clover, and Camellia fluttered behind her.
The quiet click of the door closing echoed around the room. They were alone.
Evelyn turned toward him. “Alaric, you’re my ahava.” Her love.
“I know.”
“Before I loved you, I didn’t even know what I was supposed to dream about.”
“Maybe some dreams aren’t meant to be controlled.”
Her huff melted into a sigh. “What are you saying?”
“Maybe I forced something on you I shouldn’t have. If love is a choice, then you never really had one.”
“That’s not true. I have been given a choice, and I’ve made my decision.” She pressed closer to him. “You were there, Alaric. I could have fled with Draven or remained a prisoner, possibly for life. Which did I choose?”
His gaze dropped to the floor between them. “I just wonder sometimes. What if I hadn’t taken you as my queen? Would you have found someone better?”
Alaric, King of Torva, was wondering if she could’ve been with someone better than him. She shook her head with a smile. “The ‘what ifs’ don’t matter. I need someone who loves me as deeply as I love him. Do you love me, Alaric?”
“Of course.”
“Then we’ve both made our decision. What else is there?”
He lifted his head, their gazes locking. Finally, his fingers pressed gently against hers, and the emerald in his eyes darkened, smoldering. “I can think of something.”
He withdrew and gently worked the ribbons loose on their joined hands. His lips brushed her finger. She lifted her left hand joined with his right hand. She caught the ribbon in between her teeth and tugged it loose. Soon, there were two tiny piles on the floor: a pile of golden ribbons on one side of them and silver ribbons on the other.
Alaric cupped both of her cheeks before tilting her face up toward his. His breath stirred strands of her hair. “Are you ready? Do you want this?”
She tiptoed and curled her hand around the nape of his neck with a grin. “I’d rather show you than tell you.”
She tilted her head, her eyes closing. Instead of meeting his lips, she brushed against something solid and slightly rounded. She frowned and opened her eyes. He’d pressed his finger to her lips.
“Before I forget”—he flashed her a grin—“because I’m certain I will in a few minutes, allow me to grant you one request.” His expression suddenly sobered. “Any request. I vow to make it happen… even should you want to return to Earth permanently.”
She pursed her lips in thought. “Now that you mention it, there’s something I’ve wanted for a while.”
He hauled in a breath. “Yes?”
“Your back. May I see it?”
He blinked. “You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, but I haven’t gotten to explore it like I’ve wanted to.”
His cheeks pinked, and she suppressed a grin. “Explore? What do you mean?”
“Take off your shirt, and I’ll show you.”
He stepped away before turning his back toward her slowly. He fumbled with the ties beneath his wings before slipping his shirt over his head. The muscles in his back rippled with the movement, stretching the scars gouging his skin. The newest ones, courtesy of the Scorpio, were still an angry shade of red.
She closed the distance between them, until she stood half a foot from him. She splayed her hand against his bare back,
his skin smooth except for the roughened ridges marring him. He didn’t flinch at her touch like he used to. She pressed a kiss to a scar and slid her lips along its length. Alaric sucked in a breath, his chest swelling.
She trembled as she traced another scar. Her heart lodged in her throat, and for a second she couldn’t breathe. This was it. This was where she’d become his wife in full. Her breath shuddered as she drew it in. She was a little scared, but she was ready. Ready to love Alaric for a lifetime.
By the time she’d kissed every single scar, Alaric’s chest heaved with deep, ragged breaths, but he didn’t move.
She strode around his side, ducked beneath his wing, and stood in front of his chest. She flashed him a smile, hoping it would hide the potent mixture of nervousness and excitement twisting her stomach.
His chest rose and fell more quickly now, eyes dark. Ever so gently, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek, and he held his hand there, barely touching her. “Is this more than passion, Evelyn?”
She pressed closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes. Much, much more. I love you, Alaric, and I’ll keep loving you. Even when I don’t feel like loving you, I’ll choose to.”
“As will I. And since we’re agreed…”
He tilted his head and pressed his mouth to hers. She froze, caught off guard, before remembering how to respond. Her circlet clinked to the floor, and she wove her fingers through his hair before removing his crown, setting it on a nearby table. When he slanted his lips over hers, deepening the kiss, she clung more tightly to him for support. It was a wonderful, breathless moment. And then she felt it, deep down within her chest:
Her heart fluttered.
Maybe the things people did for love weren’t so crazy after all.
Acknowledgments
I’ve read in other authors’ acknowledgements that writing a novel takes a village, and until completing my own, I had never realized how true that was. So many people have contributed to this novel in so many ways, from simply believing that I could publish this to investing hours in helping me rewrite the story—and it took three complete rewrites over the course of five years to get to this draft.
Captive and Crowned Page 33