by Jayne Castel
Another knock on the door interrupted them.
“Come in,” Elias called out, although his gaze never left Ninia. He was surprised that she looked so pleased about becoming queen. He thought she’d been wedded to the idea of devoting her life to The Order of Light and Darkness.
The door creaked open, and the High Enchanter of Veldoras entered. Dressed in flowing white, Mysandra held a wooden box in her arms. Catching Elias’s eye, she smiled. “Good to see you awake.”
“Did you find the papers?” Nathan asked.
The High Enchanter nodded. “And the key … it’s all in here.”
Elias frowned. “What is?”
“The formula Gael used to be able to safely wield Stynix,” Nathan replied, his expression hardening. “We can’t let anyone use it again. It needs to be destroyed … and we all need to witness it.”
Mysandra placed the box on the table at the foot of the bed and inserted a small iron key. Reaching inside, she withdrew a thick sheaf of parchment leaves. Some were yellowed with age, and others fresh. “Gael found these under the ruins of Dûn Maras,” she explained. “And then he translated them.”
“Burn the lot,” Nathan instructed.
Mysandra hesitated, her gaze shifting to Ninia and then Elias. “Are all three of you in agreement?”
Ninia nodded. “Aye … Nathan’s right. Such knowledge will always fall into the wrong hands.”
“I agree,” Elias murmured. “Burn them.”
The High Enchanter moved over to where a fire smoldered in the hearth at the far end of the room. It was a warm afternoon, but the stone keep remained cool all year round. Wordlessly, she cast the sheaf of parchment onto the glowing coals.
All four of them looked on as Valgarth’s legacy went up in a whoosh of flame.
38
A New Start
NINIA’S CORONATION TOOK place in the throne room of The Swallow Keep.
The cavernous space was packed with standing room only. The roar of excited voices rose high into the spider-vaulted ceiling, only ceasing when trumpets blasted, announcing the princess’s arrival.
Ryana stood in the front row, between Elias and Asher.
Dressed in Anthor finery, a crimson cloak rippling from his broad shoulders, Elias was distractingly handsome this afternoon. Only the fact he held himself gingerly hinted that he was still recovering from his wounds. The prince would need to convalesce for a while yet at Veldoras before making the journey south. After that he too would be crowned.
King of Anthor.
Ryana dropped her gaze to the polished grey marble beneath her feet.
She was happy for him—she really was—but when he’d told her that Nathan and Ninia had both endorsed him ascending the Anthor throne, she’d felt as if someone had just kicked her in the stomach.
It was foolish really, expecting him to walk away from his destiny.
He was an Anthor prince and the only surviving heir. Of course he’d take the throne.
However, she’d been on edge and unhappy ever since hearing the news. She’d reduced her visits to Elias and had kept her distance physically. She needed to prepare herself for the inevitable.
She’d never forget him, but their paths were about to diverge. She had to ready herself for it.
“Ryana … are you well?” Asher asked, intruding on her thoughts. “You look pale.”
Glancing up, Ryana flashed her friend a smile. “It’s this gown … I think the servants did the corset up too tightly. I can hardly breathe.”
“It reminds me of the gown you were wearing the eve we met,’ Elias murmured from next to her.
Ryana turned to see Elias favor her with a slow smile. Of course, he could see straight down her cleavage. The silver-blue satin gown was low-cut in Thûn fashion; it left the upper swell of her breasts on display.
Frowning to mask the fact that her lower belly melted at that smile, Ryana tore her gaze from Elias.
Bastard. He was making this even harder than it needed to be. He didn’t seem to even care that things were about to change for them both. On the brief occasions she’d seen him over the past three days, they hadn’t spoken of the future.
“Look,” Mira hissed, tugging at Asher’s arm. “There’s Ninia!”
A vision in silver and black—Thûn colors—appeared at the end of the throne room. Head held high, Ninia began the long walk to the dais, where the Swallow Throne awaited her.
She looks like a queen already, Ryana thought, her throat constricting.
Of course she did. Although Ninia had cast off her lineage for a while, eventually she’d had to accept who she was: heir to the Swallow Throne. Ninia was an enchanter with a rare gift, but she was also the only surviving member of the Thûn royal family. Despite Reoul of Anthor’s best efforts, she’d not only survived but thrived and matured. Ninia was still young, yet she was ready to take the crown.
Ninia swept past, her long silver train whispering across the floor behind her.
Upon the dais, Mysandra and Nathan of Rithmar awaited her. The High Enchanter held a plush purple cushion, upon which sat a delicate silver crown with an intricately wrought swallow’s tail in its center.
Ninia reached the dais and stopped in front of the throne, before turning to the audience. She then gracefully sank to her knees.
Nathan stepped up to her side. “People of the realm,” his powerful voice rang out through the now silent hall. “I present to you, Ninia of Thûn. Your undoubted queen.” Nathan paused, his gaze sweeping over the amassed crowd. “Are you willing to follow her?”
A roar went up, making the stone beneath Ryana’s feet tremble, as the people of Thûn responded.
Nathan turned to Ninia. “Do you take the oath, Ninia of Thûn … to govern the peoples of this realm and exercise justice, law, and mercy in all your judgements?”
“All of this I promise to do,” Ninia replied, her voice clear and firm.
Nathan turned and carefully picked up the crown that Mysandra held out to him. Then he lowered it onto Ninia’s head.
“Receive this crown. Be merciful, but not remiss. Execute justice but do not forget compassion. Punish the wicked, but protect and cherish the just. Lead your people in the direction they should go.”
Nathan stepped back, eyes gleaming.
“All hail, Ninia, Queen of Thûn!”
Another roar went up, and this time the very air seemed to tremble. The tightness in Ryana’s throat spread to her chest. Biting down on her cheek, she blinked back tears. The atmosphere in the throne room was so charged it was difficult not to weep.
Eyes shining, Ninia rose to her feet. Her gaze swept around the hall, and to Ryana’s surprise the queen met her eye. The two women stared at each other for a long moment, and then Ninia smiled.
Servants flowed into the throne room, bearing goblets of wine and trays of Thûn delicacies: boar pâté on slivers of walnut bread, quails eggs encased in sausage, and skewered fowl hearts.
Helping herself to a goblet of wine, Ryana took a large gulp. It was a sparkling apple wine that tickled her nose and reminded her of summers on the Isle of Orin, where the locals excelled in such wine. Suddenly, she wished she was back there, sitting by a riverbank with nothing more arduous to plan than which inn to stop at for the night.
Elias had moved across to congratulate Ninia, and so Ryana took the opportunity to lose herself in the throng. The press of bodies was so thick that her path toward the exit seemed to take an age.
She was halfway across when someone called her name.
Turning, Ryana spied Lilia and Dain making their way over. Despite her bleak mood, Ryana found herself smiling. She’d never seen the pair of them dressed so finely. Dain wore a velvet green shirt and a beautifully tailored black leather vest. An emerald cloak hung from his shoulders. Likewise, Lilia was also dressed in green: a shimmering gown that, like Ryana’s, showed off her full cleavage. Lilia’s russet hair was piled high on her head, leaving her shoulders bare.
&n
bsp; “You two look like royalty yourselves,” Ryana greeted them.
“Ninia insisted I wear one of her gowns,” Lilia answered, smoothing her hands over the silken material of her skirts. “I adore it.”
Dain put an arm around Lilia’s shoulders. “She’s invited us to stay a while.”
“And will you?”
Lilia and Dain shared soft smiles. Watching them, Ryana’s throat constricted. She didn’t resent them their happiness, yet seeing it only highlighted the emptiness in the pit of her belly.
“I think so,” Lilia replied.
“Not leaving with us then?” Asher asked, stepping up next to Ryana. Mira was at Asher’s side, one arm looped through his. She was dressed in a slinky silver gown that hugged her form. However, Mira still had a bandage on one arm and walked with a slight limp.
Dain shook his head, before he grinned. “No one refuses a queen.”
“So you’re making a new start?” Elias raised his goblet to Ninia with a smile. “Rebuilding the Order of Light and Darkness in Veldoras is going to be quite a job.”
“Aye, but I’ve got years ahead of me,” Ninia replied, lifting her goblet to her lips and taking a dainty sip. “Plus, Mysandra has agreed to remain here … she will help me.”
Elias glanced over at where the High Enchanter was now deep in conversation with Asher and Mira a few yards away. The roar of exuberant conversation thundered through the throne room, as dozens of servants threaded their way through the crowd with more food and drink. “You’ve made a good choice there,” he murmured. “Mysandra was the only enchanter in the city who didn’t fall under Gael’s spell.”
Turning back to Ninia, he found her watching him intently.
“I’m not the only one making a new start,” she observed. “How do you feel about returning to Mirrar Rock, to your own coronation?”
Elias considered the question. The future had been on his mind a lot over the past few days. He’d wanted to discuss it with Ryana, yet he’d hardly seen her of late. “I’m not sure,” he admitted after a pause. “There’s a part of me that welcomes it … I always knew as the eldest I’d take the throne one day … and there’s much I want to change.” He pulled a face then. “But there’s another side that just wants a quiet life, away from all the ceremony and back-stabbing of court.”
Ninia laughed, her hazel eyes twinkling. “You and I were born into this world,” she reminded him. “We know how to handle ourselves.”
“Aye, but isn’t there a part of you that wishes differently?”
Ninia’s smile faded. “There was,” she admitted. “But Nathan was right … those of us born of Royal blood can’t turn our back on it as easily as we might think. Our people need us … Anthor needs a king like you.”
Elias’s mouth quirked. “The people of all The Four Kingdoms of Serran have much to thank you for. I hear too that all the Altars of Umbra have fallen.”
It was true. Just a day after the liberation of Veldoras, word had started to filter into the city from other nearby towns and villages that all the altars had fallen. Elias had received this news with relief. Mirrar Rock’s Altar of Umbra had sat on the great terrace below the palace, a constant reminder of the shadow king’s reign.
“I have no idea how I did it,” Ninia admitted.
Elias shook his head, his smile widening. “All that matters is that you did.”
Elias left Ninia, as a crowd of high-born Veldoras men and women descended upon her, and made his way over to where Mysandra still conversed with Asher and Mira. As he walked, Elias scanned the sea of heads around him.
“Have you seen Ryana?” he greeted them when Asher glanced his way.
“She’s right behind us,” Mira replied, glancing over her shoulder at where Dain and Lilia were helping themselves to mouthfuls of aged cheese smeared with quince paste. “Or she was.”
“Ryana isn’t herself today,” Asher added with a frown. “She seemed … distracted. Have you two argued?”
Elias scowled back at him. He didn’t appreciate the question. He’d seen a bit of Asher over the past few days, and although relations had thawed between them, he found the man could be a bit too free with his opinions.
Like now.
“No,” he replied curtly. “I’ve hardly seen her over the past days.”
With that, he excused himself with a nod and moved across to Lilia and Dain.
“Ryana left a short while ago,” Lilia informed him as she licked quince off her fingers. “She’s gone to pack.”
Elias stiffened. “What?”
Lilia met his eye, concern clouding her eyes. “Didn’t Ryana tell you? She’s leaving with the Rithmar army tomorrow at dawn.”
39
Virgin Territory
THE KNOCK ON her door made Ryana freeze.
Putting down the charcoal enchanter robe she’d laid out for the following morning, she glanced toward the entrance to her chamber. Everyone was still supposed to be celebrating in the throne room. That was why she’d slipped away; no one would notice her gone.
Another knock sounded—a heavy, insistent blow.
Ryana swallowed before calling out. “Who is it?”
The door swung open, framing Elias in the doorway. The sight of him made Ryana’s breathing quicken. Her palms suddenly went clammy, and she turned from the bed. “What do you want?”
“I missed you after the ceremony … Lilia said I’d find you here.”
Ryana clenched her jaw. Shadows take Lilia, couldn’t she have told him that I went to use the privy?
Elias stepped into the chamber, his gaze sweeping to the bed, where an open leather pack sat. Clothing lay strewn around it. “I hear you’re leaving,” he said, his voice flat.
“Aye,” Ryana murmured. “Nathan’s going tomorrow, so I might as well join him.”
“Were you intending to say goodbye?”
Ryana glanced away. “I was hoping to avoid it,” she said softly.
She heard Elias’s heavy tread as he moved across the chamber toward her. “Why?”
“I thought it would make things easier,” she whispered, still not looking at him.
“It’s not like you to act the coward.”
Ryana jerked her chin up, irritation spearing through her. Elias had stopped before her now, and their gazes met. “We were going to go our separate ways sooner or later,” she pointed out, her voice clipped. “I didn’t see the point in prolonging things.”
“So you thought you’d sneak off … after everything we’ve been through together. You thought I deserved no better?”
Heat rose in Ryana’s cheeks. He was deliberately being difficult, deliberately trying to provoke her. She wouldn’t snap at the bait.
Elias’s gaze shifted to the bed then, resting upon the enchanter robe. “Is this the life you want for yourself?”
Catching the challenge in his voice, Ryana stiffened. “This is my life.” She drew in a deep breath, forcing herself on. “Circumstances changed things for a few days, but I must now return to The Royal City.”
“What if I don’t want you to?”
Ryana’s lips parted in surprise. She was aware then of how close he stood. Backing away from the bed, Ryana tried to put some distance between them. Her long skirts rustled as she moved, hampering her. However, he followed her, and when she collided with the wall, Ryana’s heart started to flutter like a caged bird.
“That doesn’t matter,” she replied, her voice strangled. “I’ll not be a king’s consort … the wild woman from the north you keep for your pleasure.”
Elias’s dark eyes shadowed. He moved closer still, placing his hands on the wall either side of Ryana, boxing her in. “Is that what you think you are to me?”
Ryana stared back at him. “It’s what I would be. We both know it.”
“What if I asked you to be my queen … to travel south and wed me before the people of Mirrar Rock?”
Ryana drew in a sharp breath. “Why would you want that?”
&n
bsp; He gave a soft, sensual laugh that made her knees tremble. “Isn’t it obvious, woman? I’m in love with you.”
Silence followed this admission. The only sound in the chamber was the rasp of their breathing. Elias’s chest moved rapidly now, the expression on his face so intense that Ryana started to feel dizzy.
She hadn’t expected such a proclamation; she didn’t know how to respond to it.
Elias lifted a hand from the wall and reached down, taking one of her hands and lifting it to his chest.
His heart thundered under her palm.
“I won’t lie,” he whispered. “I didn’t think my cold heart knew what love is, but it did. I want you, Ryana—at my side and in my bed—for the rest of my life.”
Ryana’s fingers curled against his chest. His words completely undid her, and yet underneath it all, lay a tight kernel of fear. “I can’t wed you,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be a queen.”
His fingers tightened around hers. A nerve flickered in his cheek. “You don’t love me?”
“I can’t … I’m not—”
“Do you love me, Ryana?”
He stepped forward, pressing her against the wall. Their bodies lay against each other now, and the strength of him, the scent of warm male mingled with a hint of spice from his cologne made it difficult for Ryana to muster any coherent thought.
“Don’t ask me that.”
“Why not? It’s a fair question. You have my heart, and I wish to know if you feel the same.”
Ryana heaved in a shuddering breath. Tears pricked the back of her eyelids, and she cursed them. He’d cornered her now, and she had no choice but to answer. “Aye, I love you,” she croaked out the words. “But it doesn’t change anything. A woman like me can’t become a queen.”
He inclined his head, breathing fast now. “Why not?”
Ryana pushed against his chest with both hands, trying to create some distance between them. But he was immovable. “Because I’m not a high-born lady. My parents are farmers, and I’m …” Ryana broke off here, searching for the words. “I’m too independent, too difficult to be a queen. I’d never suit such a life. You’d wed me and then, before you realized it, the woman you thought you loved would be a burden to you.”