Kiss of the Royal

by Lindsey Duga

  Unlike all my other kisses, instead of draining me of magic, this seemed to pump me full of its own.

  I never wanted it to stop.

  When Zach released me, our breaths were labored.

  “Definitely better without the fire,” I muttered, his forehead still resting against mine.

  He grinned and kissed me again, much softer than before.

  Still blushing, I took his hand, stroking my fingertips against the Mark of Myriana. I wondered if Zach wanted it removed, since our marks were the very symbols of the curse we carried in our blood. A constant reminder that we could spread darkness with just one wrong Kiss.

  “I’d like to keep it,” Zach said. As usual, he seemed to know what I was thinking.

  “Are you sure? Even knowing what it means?”

  “It can mean whatever I want it to mean,” he said. “And it means I’m yours.”

  I wanted to bury my face in my hands out of embarrassment, even though I didn’t remember ever being so happy.

  Zach took advantage of my shyness to lean in and kiss the spot below my ear, then my neck, then my collarbone.

  Before I managed to lose all thought, I pushed him back with weak hands. “All right, you’ve made your point, but it still won’t be easy,” I said, “making the Legion believe in Love.”

  “Don’t fret, my princess.” His lips brushed my temple. “We can change things.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you so sure we can break five hundred years of tradition and beliefs? An entire institution?”

  “Well,” Zach said, gripping my hand and kissing the back of it, “I’ve heard it’s best to lead by example.”

  For five centuries, the Legion has ruled with every good intention and a passion to protect the weak and innocent. We have ruled with logic and reason but persecuted those who thought differently, namely those who believed we should lead not only with our minds, but with our hearts. Today is the day we change. Today, we learn how to love once again. Today, we unite with the Romantica, and face the Darkness together…with Love to light the way.

  Excerpt text from Queen Ivy Myriana

  Epilogue

  Three years later…

  A small hand knocked the bottle of ink across the letter to the Council of Raed I’d just spent an hour working on, splattering the paper—and the front of my dress—with great big splotches of black. I closed my eyes, letting the irritation roll off me.

  I gently clutched the wandering fingers and looked down at the child nestled in my lap. “What did I say, Tania?”

  The toddler’s bright green eyes stared up at me, fixed in that wide-eyed look of wonderment and innocence children always had.

  “Help you,” the little girl protested. “You run out.”

  I curled my legs up in the chair, pushing Tania’s tiny body closer to my chest. “Thank you, my little wisp.” My kisses danced, light as feathers, across her cheeks.

  She squealed with delight and threw her arms around my neck.

  “There you are.” An exasperated Millennia stood in the doorway of my office, hands on her hips. Her dark hair was gathered elegantly at the nape of her neck and various wildflowers were nestled in her braids.

  “Tania, what did I say about disturbing Queen Ivy?”

  The little girl pouted in my lap. She tried to hide behind my knees and looked up at me with a look only a toddler could pull off—adorable innocence. “Do it?” she tried.

  I burst into laughter as her mother plucked her off my lap.

  “I’m sorry, I thought you knew where she was,” I said, placing the now-ruined letter into the wastebasket.

  Tania played with her mother’s hair but grinned sneakily as if she and I shared a secret.

  I’d made good on my promise to free Tarren almost as soon as we’d returned to Myria. Millennia and her childhood love ended up staying in Myria so Millennia could train under Master Gelloren. She was growing more and more adept at her elemental magic. They had also chosen to raise their child in the castle, since they had played an integral role in the effort to unite the Royals and the Romantica.

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking about this little deviant.” Millennia bounced her daughter on her hip. “I was talking about you. It’s almost time for the wedding! Why aren’t you dressed?”

  “What are you talking about? I have plenty of ti—” I stopped, glancing up at my clock, then clapped a hand over my mouth. “But I promised Brom I’d check on his new battle strategy today,” I protested. Where had the time gone this afternoon?

  “Ivy, I think the war can take a break for just this one evening. The Commander will understand. Have you forgotten how important this wedding is?”

  She was right. It was the first wedding among Royals in Myria, and in the past year, the war had been going remarkably well. In fact, it was barely a war now, more like small skirmishes on the outskirts of the four kingdoms, pushing residual Forces from villages.

  It had taken much time, even more effort, and many lives to make it so.

  The first year had been the worst. Many, many people had died.

  While the True Love’s Kiss, Zach’s and mine, had destroyed several dark creatures in the northern sector of Myria, there were still innumerable monsters to defeat. After returning to Myria’s Crown City with news of the Hydra Curse, it took months of convincing. Months of battles where I would search for proof of the Royal’s Kiss’s true nature and treachery, but it was Master Gelloren who finally supported my claim. From there, the Legion slowly started implementing new battle tactics, removing the Royal’s Kiss completely and retraining troops in the art of combat. Women were taught swordsmanship, and everyone in the villages willing to take up arms was called to the castle to train.

  In the first few major battles following the removal of the Royal’s Kiss, too many bodies littered the field, including the bodies of good friends. When I found Tulia lying with a cursed blade in her stomach, staring up with blank, unseeing eyes at the sky full of sparrow harpies, it was the first time I questioned whether or not we were doing the right thing. Were we too eager to get rid of the Kiss? Were we too weak to survive without it?

  Zach held me that night, and I’d cried in his arms for hours. I’d cried for Tulia. I’d cried for fear of leading my people to their deaths. But as they always had, Zach’s arms enveloped me, gave me strength, and reminded me why we were doing this in the first place.

  “Ivy.” Millennia slammed her hand on my desk and I jumped out of the past and back to the present. “If you don’t get dressed now, I will have Tania do your hair. Now go.”

  I scribbled a note on my desk to rewrite the letter to the Council of Raed and stood. “Yes, all right. How is the bride, by the way?”

  Millennia scowled. “She’d be doing a lot better with her best friend there.”

  I winced. “You’ve made your point. I’m going.”

  After giving them both kisses on the cheek, I hurried out of my office and turned down the spiral staircase of the west wing, toward the bride’s rooms. My fingers trailed over the decorations of beautiful white and gold wildflowers tied with ribbons and ivy hanging from the stone walls. It reminded me of the gardenia flowers that had hung from the walls when Zach had first arrived in Myria.

  I knocked softly on the door and a shaky, “Come in,” sounded in response.

  I stepped in and shut the door behind me, turning to admire Minnow in all her beauty. She wore a pale yellow dress with fine lace trim and a sheer silk veil rimmed with a crown of yellow wildflowers. Her golden hair hung in curls with intricate braids entwined in white ribbons.

  A maid stood next to Minnow, adjusting the trail of her wedding gown and veil, while Matilda, dressed in a beautiful light blue dress, sat on the edge of the bed sipping a glass of gingerberry wine. She gave me a disapproving eye roll. “At last, the queen graces us with her presence.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” I said, shooting Minnow an apologetic smile.

  It wasn’t two min
utes before the maid descended upon me. She unwound my thick hair from my usual tight bun and pulled a few strands back, entwining them with light blue ribbons while I sat still and admired Minnow.

  She was indeed a beautiful bride. Her mother had made the dress, insisting on the color yellow. When I’d asked her why the dress would not be in Romantica white, she replied, “Seems to me the color of Love is gold, isn’t it? Besides, my Minnow looks lovely in yellow.”

  I couldn’t argue with her there.

  “Oh, Minnow,” I breathed, “you’re breathtaking. Roland won’t know what to do with himself.”

  Minnow beamed, practically glowing as bright as the sun in all that yellow. “I hope so. I adore telling him what to do.”

  We were so busy laughing, we didn’t even hear the knocking until the door clicked and swung open. My friends’ laughter faded, and I turned to see who’d come in.

  Mother.

  While everyone else chose soft, gentle colors for the wedding, my mother wore her usual dark, striking fabrics. Her hair was wound up tightly on her head, and jewels glittered around her neck.

  Queen Dahlia strode into the room and stopped just in front of me. There was a time not long ago when I would’ve flinched when she got so close. Not anymore. Things had changed.

  Her dark eyes were fixed on me. “May I have a word, Ivy?”

  I could guess what she wanted to talk about. The letter to the Council of Raed would’ve included her battle strategy for the goblin hordes escaping from the Fields of Galliore into the eastern forests. It was always something having to do with the war, but that was okay. If this was the way we could understand each other, as warriors, I was fine with that.

  When my mother had heard our story of the Hydra Curse and the truth about Myriana’s heart, she had said very little to me. But over the course of a year, she began to slowly change.

  She attended all of my battle strategy meetings and ripped them apart mercilessly, but then stayed with me for hours afterward poring over maps, discussing tactics. I didn’t try to get more from her than that. I’d defeated the dragon and Evil Queen, done everything that I’d hoped would get her to say she was proud of me—and maybe she was, somewhere deep down, but she saw no need to tell me.

  And I saw no need to ask.

  It was enough to have her presence night after night, working with me, next to me.

  “Of course, Your Highness,” I said with a nod, then turned to Minnow. Kissing my friend on both cheeks, I wished her luck, and left with my mother.

  We walked in silence for a while, before I finally grew impatient. “If it’s about the letter to Raed, I’m almost done with it. I can send it tomorrow.”

  My mother paused, pursed her red lips, and glanced out the window. “No, Ivy, it’s not about the letter.” She reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out a white velvet box, covered in black ink fingerprints.

  My hands trembled as I took it from her. It was the box in one of my saddest, loneliest memories—I’d recognize it anywhere, even fifteen years later. I opened the box and stared at the simple but beautiful silver band.

  When I did nothing but stare at it, Mother plucked it out of the box and slid it onto my ring finger. “It fits,” she said softly.

  “What is this, mother?”

  “Someone…someone very dear to me gave me that. It was a symbol of…of how much he cared for me.”

  Even though she wasn’t saying it in words, I understood what this ring was. After working with the Romantica for three years, I knew a wedding band when I saw one. “But”—I swallowed—“why are you giving it to me?”

  “Because…” Mother took a deep, shuddering breath. “Because you gave me back what it meant. And that…is far more precious than a band of silver.”

  I covered the ring with my other hand, my eyes stinging.

  “Everything I’ve ever done was to protect myself. I am a selfish woman, Ivy Myriana, and I’m sure you know that. I had no desire to feel the pain of losing someone I…someone close to me ever again.”

  If there was one thing I understood about Love now, it was that it didn’t make sense. If my mother had tried to protect herself from losing someone else she loved to the Forces by constantly pushing me, critiquing me, yelling at me, and distancing herself from me…I couldn’t blame her for that.

  Nor had I ever.

  “I understand,” I said.

  Dahlia turned and started walking down the corridor, back the way we’d come. “Don’t forget to change your dress. You can’t attend a wedding with ink all over you.”

  I glanced down and grimaced at the ink splotches courtesy of Tania.

  My new chambers were four times as big as my previous one, with an extra room where I “received” guests. I’d known it was going to be more extravagant when I’d been given the title of Queen, but I hadn’t expected all the extra space. Zach had refused the title of King—a Romantica through and through—so he still resided in a smaller room, though it hardly mattered. He spent most of his time in my chambers anyway.

  I entered my rooms to find Zach standing in front of my full-length mirror, tugging on his shirt cuffs.

  “—Will you…no, no.” Zach sighed and scratched the back of his head, grumbling something.

  Then he took another deep breath and said, “Ivy, will you do me the honor of…” He ran his hands down his face and groaned. “Ivy, will you—”

  “Will I what?” I asked.

  “Troll’s breath!” Zach jumped, turning so quickly he knocked over a vase filled with gardenias that Tania had picked for me yesterday. Being the legendary swordsman he was, he caught the vase, but the water and flowers spilled everywhere.

  I walked over, stifling a few giggles, and bent to help him pick up the flowers. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I thought you’d already gotten ready,” he said, avoiding my gaze as he gathered up the extraneous petals. Zach’s face was a brilliant shade of red—like a strawberry.

  Maybe it was the idea of him and strawberries, or maybe it was the scent of gardenias, so reminiscent of the day he first came to Myria, but before I could stop myself, I grabbed his shirt collar and kissed him. It was rougher than I planned, and he hadn’t been expecting it, so we both fell backward, Zach’s back planted firmly against the mirror.

  Though he’d been surprised, he quickly caught up. His lips and breath and hands moved in a familiar rhythm that made my head dizzy. My hands traveled from the collar of his shirt to his broad shoulders, and my pulse climbed when his hands on my thighs moved upward to rest on my hips. Our kiss lasted a few moments longer before Zach pulled away—or as much as he could. His head was still against the mirror.

  “What brought that on?” he asked, removing my hands from his shoulders and squeezing.

  “I don’t need a reason.” I smiled. “But if you must know—I haven’t a clue.”

  Zach grinned and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I can live with that.”

  “But it’s probably because I love you,” I said, momentarily reveling in the rush I got whenever I used those words.

  Zach’s smile faltered, and his expression was a little more serious than moments before.

  “Hearing you say it…every time…there’s nothing in the world like it.” He lifted his face back to mine, showing me that familiar devious smile.

  “What?” I asked.

  Zach brushed his hand across the freckles on my cheek, revealing the faded Mark of Myriana from under his shirt cuffs. “I want you as my partner. For love this time, as my wife. Forever.”

  I want you as my partner. The same words I’d used that morning, after I’d seen him fight for the first time, after realizing that our Kiss could change the world. I had been right about that. In a way.

  I leaned in for another kiss, echoing his reply from years ago, “I thought that had already been decided.”

  Acknowledgments

  I’ll never forget the words of my critique part
ner, and one of my favorite people in the whole world, Melissa Jackson, when I told her the concept of this book and she responded with: “So they’re like…making out on a battlefield?”

  As crazy as this idea is, and as impossible as it was to describe without cracking up, Melissa didn’t try to dissuade me from it. Instead, she was its golden champion. Thank you, Mel, for reading it, editing it, obsessing over it with me, and being a pillar of support while I dissolved into tears and incoherent text messages throughout my book journey.

  Thank you to Judi Weiss for finding my tiny #pitmad tweet among literally thousands of amazing pitches and believing in it. I can never thank you enough. And of course, to my brilliant and sweetheart of an editor, Lydia Sharp, whose never-ending patience, dedication, and expertise helped make this book something I could be proud of. All of the hugs and cupcakes in the world couldn’t express how grateful I am to you.

  To everyone at Entangled Teen, y’all are rock stars and deserve to rule the world.

  A special thanks to Vicki L. Weavil for her ongoing encouragement and feedback. Your prose is so gorgeous I could cry sometimes. Thank you for the introduction to my agent, Frances Black, at Literary Counsel. You are both spectacular women.

  A huge shout-out goes to my local critique group made up of some of Baton Rouge’s greatest writers. Season, Russell, Nick, Lee, Bridget, Andy, and Sean—because of y’all I can look forward to Mondays. Paula, thank you for spending every Sunday editing with me, while watching me consume a hundred green tea frapps and listening to me freak out over the latest round of edits.

  To my darling Meaghan Mulligan, with whom I spent hours walking up and down the aisles of Barnes & Noble only the second time we met because we could not stop talking about YA books—you are a perfect, wonderful, precious treasure. You somehow knew this book would be published way before I did.

  To all of the book bloggers, internet/twitter friends, beta readers, critique partners, author mentors—every single lesson I learned and step I took in my writing and publication journey can be traced back to you. I speak for debut authors everywhere when I say that we couldn’t do this without your sharing, tweeting, teachings, and support. The writing community is truly magical.