Tyler had been telling the truth then. He’d only wanted to know what it felt like to escape what he was.
“And then you had your goons attack my troupe.” My voice sounds harsh in the quiet of the evening, full of all the rage I’ve been holding since the night I watched my parents die.
“You used me to get to her?” Tyler seems to be a step behind this conversation, and it’s getting harder and harder for me to stay mad at him while also being mad at his father. “She’s not to be harmed on my order.” Tyler’s voice is harder now, his eyes flashing.
“You are not nearly as clever as you imagine yourself to be,” the king says, completely ignoring his son’s command. “Do you even know who it is you’ve been slumming it with?”
But his shocking words don’t ruffle me now. I’m ready. “You know who I am?” I hold my hands up and let my power flow through them. “That’s a pity. I had a whole speech planned.”
The king doesn’t look scared, but he should. If he knows who I am, he really should.
“What is he talking about?” Tyler asks me.
I shrug. “Sorry, Prince. You aren’t the only one with a plot twist for a backstory.”
The king laughs, at least I assume that’s what the sound coming out of him is. It’s not a pleasant sound. “While I’d love to stand around listening to you two bare your souls to each other, we have a ballroom full of guests and a kingdom waiting for you to pick your future queen.”
Guards crawl out of the shadows like cockroaches, flanking the three of us, weapons drawn. At least a dozen of them. Dark fae with swords and magic, their eyes as cold and dead as their king’s.
“Come, son. Before your absence is noticed. They will handle the girl.”
The king turns like he expects everyone to obey his every word.
“No.”
Tyler’s voice is loud in the silence. Firm and full of an authority I’ve never heard from him.
The king turns, surprise on his face that quickly turns to rage. “No? You dare defy me?”
But Tyler’s not looking at his father, he’s looking at me. “Who are you?” he asks, the compassion returned to his voice.
“Ask your father,” I say, as my power surges within me.
“I’m asking you. Kate. Who are you?”
It’s time.
I glance to the king’s hand and see what I’d hoped. He never shows himself in public without the scepter. Which means my plan will work.
I hope.
I step back from them both and raise my hands. Already, my skin has begun to glow with the light magic inside me. My fae power thrums alongside it, a doubly powerful mixture that I don’t bother holding back. It’s time they all saw.
“I am the rightful heir to the throne your father stole from my family.” I pause, letting my power fill me completely. As it does, the crystal at the tip of the scepter begins to glow. “After he murdered my parents in this very garden when I was just a child.”
There’s a long silence as I watch Tyler’s face process what he’s hearing. “You’re the lost princess,” he breathes. I don’t bother to confirm it. He looks at his father, a hardness settling into his jaw. “You told me it was self-defense. That they were putting our people to death, that they attacked you. That you had no choice.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” the king says, his voice twisting cruelly. “The light fae have ruled these lands for too long. It was our turn.”
Tears threaten to spill as I remember that night. The way my parents had stayed strong to their last breath, never once revealing where I was no matter how much they were tortured by this sadistic scum.
“Kill her,” the king says, then walks away.
The guards attack, and I pull daggers out of hidden sheaths at my thighs and begin a dance I know could be my last with one misstep.
The king is about to get away, but before I can intervene, Tyler closes his eyes, and from all the trees around us, crows swarm, slamming into the castle doors the king is headed toward, blocking his escape and blinding him.
“Get these things off me, Lincold. Now.”
While everyone is distracted, I send out a bird call of my own, letting the Jolly Jesters know it’s time to play.
It doesn’t take Sarge, Lyra and Lent long to arrive, and they help peel off a few guards, allowing me to handle the rest.
My magic flows around me, and my daggers fly, hitting their target and returning to me. I twist and spin, kick and punch, my steps never faltering, my breathing staying even thanks to the surge of magic inside me.
A few minutes later, the victory is nearly ours. The guards have been dealt with. They lay dead or dying, littered throughout the garden.
And now I can focus on the king. Channeling more power, I push it out of me and towards him as gold strands of light wrap around the scepter in his hand. He screams, the birds still harassing him, as my magic yanks the artifact away from him and returns it to my hand. Where it truly belongs.
“You may know who I am,” I say, my voice resonating with the power I’m channeling, “but you don’t know what I am.”
I raise the scepter up as it glows with my power. “You think holding this gives you the right to lead my people. To rule this kingdom. You think it gives you power?”
“That is mine,” he screams, spittle flying out of his mouth.
“No. It was never yours. It was crafted by my ancestors. Witches of great power, and passed down my maternal line. I am not just a light fae, I am not just the rightful queen, I am a descendant of witches and I am here to take back my kingdom and my power.”
“Kate, watch out!” Sarge’s voice sounds strained, and his warning is a fraction too late.
The king steps out of the birds, his arms raised, dark magic flickering at his fingertips, and three things happen at once.
First, a second wave of guards emerges and seizes hold of my friends, knives at their throats. The attack is coordinated and swift and I know it’s been part of their strategy all along. Saving the strongest dark fae warriors for the end, letting us think we’ve won.
Second, the king grabs his surprised son and disarms him, pointing a sword at Tyler’s heart.
And third, the great clock--a clock I grew up hiding in as a child--strikes midnight, and my mother’s words come to me.
At the stroke of midnight, your fate will change.
“Leave him be,” I shout at the king, my voice resonating like a gong throughout the yard.
But the king only smiles a sadistic smile, and I know he’ll do it. He will kill his only son if it means defeating me.
Tyler locks eyes with me, his face serene. “I am sorry, Kate. I didn’t know. Forgive me.”
My rage turns to fear. I know what he’s going to do, but I can’t stop him.
“No!” I scream as he pushes himself into his father’s sword, the knife in his outstretched arm aimed at the king’s throat.
And with his own death, Tyler kills his father.
Chapter 10—Epilogue
My eyes catch on the golden locket Sharon has set out for me to wear. I haven’t seen it in years and assumed it had been destroyed when the castle fell to the dark fae king all those years ago. The sight of it here, now, is enough to send me teetering on the edge of a breakdown. I peer down at the tiny photos of my parents embedded inside the locket and swipe at my eyes, sniffling to try to hold back the waterworks. The truth is, it doesn’t take much these days. My victory is bittersweet without the people I love most here to witness it. Still, today is not the day for tears. Or at least, not until after the ceremony is finished.
“Oh, Katherine, you look absolutely beautiful.” Sharon stops midway into the dressing room, her eyes filling with tears that do nothing to hold back my own. Her gaze sweeps the length of my gown, a royal purple--my mother’s favorite and the ceremonial color of today’s festivities.
“Sharon, stop, you’re going to make me cry,” I warn her.
She crosses the space and put
s her hand gently against my cheek. “Your parents would be so proud of you right now.”
“Thank you.” We sniffle, swiping each other’s runaway tears, and laugh.
My maids don’t bother chastising me for it, they simply set to work fixing the damage I’ve done to my makeup. A few moments later, the locket is fastened around my neck, and Sharon nods.
“You are ready, child.”
Lyra and Lent are waiting in the hall to escort me. I hug them both and watch as their faces register the change thanks to hours of prep work and finery.
“You look beautiful,” Lyra tells me.
“Don’t get used to it. I’ll be back in pants and a sword tomorrow,” I grumble.
“Are you kidding?” Lent’s eyes glimmer with mischief. “Who knows what kind of weaponry you could hide underneath all those layers.”
I laugh. “By all means, let’s trade sometime.”
Lent grins but his shoulders straighten and I know he’s proud to wear the uniform of a royal guard. Lyra has teased that he probably wears it to bed too. I wisely clamp my mouth shut on the urge to bring that up now.
The energy of those in my procession to the Grand Hall is subdued but there is a quiet buzz of excitement even among the guards and maids.Today is special and, for many, a miracle. I can’t blame them for the hush. This won’t be real until today’s ceremony makes it so. After that, I have a feeling the air of celebration won’t be quite so muted.
As we make our way through halls once again brightly covered with the banners of our allies, I resist the urge to finger the locket at my throat. Sharon is right. My parents are proud, and I can feel it like a warmth radiating in my heart. My mother hasn’t shown herself to me since that night before the ball, but I know she’s with me. I don’t need witch magic or fae power to sense her love.
As we near the Great Hall, I can feel the life force of the crowd assembled inside just like I feel every life that enters the castle grounds. The stone embedded into the ring on my finger continues to imbue me with the magic and power that is my birthright. And under that power, the kingdom has already begun to revive.
Today marks a new beginning, and a chance for a happiness I feared I’d lost forever.
At the entrance to the hall, I pause. My hands flutter nervously at my gown and hair before Sharon bats them away.
“You look perfect,” she assures me.
“I feel like a circus clown,” I grumble and Lyra’s lips twitch.
“Some say clown, others say princess,” says a deep voice.
I turn and smile ruefully at Sarge. The sight of him in his captain’s uniform still clogs my throat with happiness. He’s earned it and the title is well-deserved, but it’s also more proof of how far we’ve come together.
“Your fancy garments don’t look nearly so ostentatious,” I pretend to grumble. “Maybe we should trade places.”
He snorts. “Not for all the jewels in the lands. I much prefer a sword to a scepter.”
I snort.
No one had argued when I chose to break the scepter into pieces. In fact, most seemed relieved to hear it no longer existed in the same form. Now, it will be spread out among those whose intentions cannot corrupt it. That much power doesn’t belong to one person anyway.
“Ready, your highness?” Sarge asks.
I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders as the orchestra begins with the trumpets that signal my entrance.
Ready or not, it’s time.
I shoot Sarge a wobbly smile, but it’s more nerves and excitement than anything. “I’ve been ready for this my whole life.”
He offers his arm and escorts me inside, and I don’t miss the way his chest puffs up with pride as the waiting crowd catches sight of us at last.
Inside the hall, I blink in awe at the sight before me. Every inch of space is crammed full with what must be half the kingdom here to witness my ascension to the throne. Banners and ribbons fly in the breeze thanks to the open terrace doors at the far end of the space. Children with tiaras made from woven flowers run in circles around their mothers. They stop when they see me.
Everyone does.
It’s not lost on me that, not so very long ago, I made a different sort of grand entrance into this exact room. I will never, ever forget that night. Being back here now, with everything so different, and yet some things still much the same, clogs my throat.
As one, the gathered villagers clap and cheer their excitement. The volume only grows louder as I climb the steps onto the dais. Standing in the center of the platform is the royal priest. In his aged hands is a jewel-encrusted crown. My crown. With more of the stones from the scepter embedded in the gold trim.
But I barely notice the symbol of my rule.
The moment my gaze catches on the familiar face standing impatiently beside the priest, I begin to tremble all over again. Our eyes meet and my heart stutters in my chest at the silvery depths urging me forward. The magic inside me surges with a love stronger than anything I’ve felt before.
“Your highness,” Sarge whispers, letting go of my arm and instead placing my hand in those of my future king. I’m so lost in the moment, I don’t even notice Sarge slipping away.
Tyler smiles at me, his expression radiating the same love I feel.
“Darling, you look breathtaking.”
“You clean up fairly well yourself,” I tease.
Our words are muted enough to go unnoticed by the crowd. But the priest clears his throat. The room quiets and he begins the recitation of the ancient words that will bind us both to our thrones--and each other.
The ceremonial oath of king and queen is a sacred rite, but gods be damned if I remember any of it. The moments pass in a blur of utter joy and happiness as I stand basking in the knowledge that there is no happily ever after I could have imagined that feels better than this moment.
“I swear to rule as queen of the kingdom of Zyndale with a kind heart and an unfailing love of the people I serve.” The words are a conviction I feel all the way to my bones. I vow to live the words as a daily truth no matter what.
I dip my head briefly as the priest places my crown on my head.
When it’s his turn, Tyler repeats the words for himself. “I swear to rule as king of the kingdom of Zyndale with a kind heart and an unfailing love of the people I serve.” He leans in and whispers just for my ears, “especially you, Lady Kate.”
My lips twitch.
The priest places Tyler’s crown atop his head, a near match to my own. The stones glow as the crown settles on him and I feel our connection flare stronger with the magic we’re both channeling now.
Tyler smiles, and I drop my gaze to his chest where his father’s sword pierced his heart the night of the ball. Now, there’s only a scar where the blade nearly ended his life. My healing power, a gift of my witch’s blood, brought him back from the brink, but I still haven’t forgotten the moment I thought I’d lost him. Or the relief at seeing him healed and whole again.
After that, there was no denying what I felt was much more than affection or even a crush. Tyler’s heart is, in some ways, powered by my own. And my magic has never been stronger than when he looks at me with the knowledge of our connection.
In the days following the fall of the dark fae king, Tyler was the most proactive and passionate of us all about rebuilding the kingdom. He spent full days in the village going from home to home, spending time with the people, redistributing his father’s stockpile of grain and gold. He is nothing like the man who sired him. He is exactly what the people of this kingdom--and, according to Sharon, I--need.
In this moment, my heart swells with gratitude for the man, and the king, my chosen has decided to be. So when the priest asks us to make our oaths to one another, as husband and wife, there is no hesitation in my voice as I promise myself to the dark fae before me.
When the priest is finished, Tyler and I turn to the crowd. Sharon’s face is the first I spot, and I shake my head at the tears she’s t
rying to mop up with the kerchief clutched in her hands. Lent and Lyra look a little choked up too, but Lent leans over and nudges his sister and she scowls, shoving him back. And just like that, the soggy eyes are gone.
“Well, there’s no turning back now,” says my husband.
I turn to grin at him. “I told you there’d be no escaping me.”
He winks.
His hand is tight in mine, his thumb rubbing circles over my wrist, and I know he’s counting down the minutes until we can escape this party and be alone. As am I.
With all of the preparations, we’ve barely had any privacy these last weeks.
The priest presents us to the people as husband and wife, and the newly crowned king and queen of Zyndale, and the cheering begins as we take our seats side by side on our thrones.
“Long live King Tyler and Queen Katherine!”
I recognize Tunk’s voice as the instigator, but the rest of the crowd chimes in almost immediately, drowning him out. I shoot him a smile where he practically bounces where he stands at the edge of the dais. His clothes are the finest in the court, a fact which he’s complained about nonstop, but I can see the way he stands taller in them. Shoulders back, chin high. He follows Sarge around like a puppy, and I know he’ll make a fine captain of the guard someday.
The celebration is in full swing by the time I make it through the crowd enough to greet our foreign guests. Queen Adara from Avondale is a name I’ve only heard in stories, mostly from the wealthy merchants I robbed in order to help those who needed it most.
My father used to tell me stories of the vampire king, once a cursed prince. Tales of witchery and magic and hope in the dark places. But Adara’s journey was always one I was much more interested in. Every heist we pulled had me asking for more information on the Winter Witch and her brave act to save her people from eternal winter. I’m glad to know Adara’s found a happily ever after as sweet as my own.
The Spring Witch (Season of the Witch Book 2) Page 7