His voice died away, growing softer as his purple eyes faded, and Natalia noticed just how bright the room had become. Or rather, it wasn’t so much the entire room as it was the circle of bright white moonlight coming through the window. One of the drapes had fallen, and the full moon’s face smiled down on Natalia and the Queen with a beam of light. Sparkles of red magic glittered and floated on the air, circling around Natalia, seeming to emanate from her body. She held up her hands, examining her palms. Her skin looked different, as pale and ethereal as the moon, almost as if it were glowing from within.
“What’s happening?” she said, suddenly afraid.
“Your… inheritance…” the Queen croaked. “You’ve fully come… into your… powers.”
Natalia was at a loss for words.
It felt surreal. The woman lying on the floor, so weak and fragile, looked nothing like the omnipotent Queen she knew. Octavia looked vulnerable, the type of tragic beauty one might hear about in a minstrel’s songs. Her body shivered as her breath came in shallow, thin gasps. “I’m… so proud... of you. I am honored… to have been… your ally and friend.”
Conflicted emotions toiled within Natalia as her brain screamed at her that this was the Queen, that she shouldn’t feel any sympathy for her, while her heart begged her to take pity on Via, that it wasn’t her fault and that she should remember all she had done for her.
The Queen’s head rolled toward her and she gave Natalia a pained smile. There was no wicked bent to it. She sighed, her body sagging and at last drawing still as her eyes became vacant.
Natalia sat there, staring at her face, so calm and peaceful. “Good-bye… my friend,” she whispered. Quiet footsteps walked up behind her and she felt a small hand on her shoulder. She shakily stood, taking and squeezing Rose’s hand. Rose searched her eyes, her baby sister’s tear-stained face appearing hopeful but in a frightened way, as if she was scared to dream for the best.
Natalia gave her a tired smile. “It’s over. You’re safe now. And no one is going to hurt you ever again.”
A sob rattled Rose’s chest and she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Natalia’s waist. They hugged each other tightly, every muscle in Natalia’s body still coiled with tension.
She couldn’t believe it. The moment was so bittersweet, perfect, and terrifying all at once.
I did it. I won.
Groans filled the chamber and they instantly separated. Natalia stepped in front of her sister as a red sword formed in her hand without her even having to concentrate on it. She relaxed upon seeing the dwarves and the others coming to, rubbing their eyes and looking disoriented.
A string of curses filled the air, rapidly growing in volume, and she looked over to see a disgruntled Wormwart stumbling about, swinging his ax in clumsy strokes. It would have brought a smile to her face, perhaps even a wry comment, had the blood not drained from her cheeks upon seeing the body of a pale young man lying a few feet away.
Her chest shuddered as she struggled to find her breath, reliving his death all over again. “Caspar.”
She stumbled forward.
The entire scene felt surreal, some horrible nightmare conjured by her exhausted mind. But the intense pain pulsing from her heart shouted at her that this was the living, bitter truth.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, not wanting to believe he could truly be gone. She fell next to him, smacking her knees sharply against the marble but not caring. The only pain she could feel was the raw sensation of her heart splitting in two. Her breath stuttered. He looked so terribly pale up close.
She picked him up, cradling his head on the crook of her arm. The cold that clung to his skin seeped through his shirt and into her fingers. Gently, she brushed back a few of the blond wisps clinging to his clammy forehead.
I should have tried to heal him when I had the chance.
And now it may be too late. Biting her lip in a futile effort to hold back her tears, she winced as the first of her life force drained into him. Steadily, she poured her magic through the wound, watching as it closed and then vanished altogether. She halted the transfer of magic, releasing a long breath and feeling a little dizzy as the red aura died away.
Caspar was still, and she lay against his chest, listening for a heartbeat but finding none. His stomach remained flat; he wasn’t breathing.
She clenched his shirt in her fists. “Why didn’t it work?”
“Yeh can’t bring back the dead,” Wormwart said softly. Though the others were awake, they were keeping a respectful distance, watching her with pity in their eyes.
She stopped. “I can’t,” she said slowly, “but Via could. And she gave me her power.”
As carefully as if she were cradling a baby, she picked up Caspar. His head fell back against her arm, and she brought it close to her face. With her skin still sparkling like snow under moonlight, she stroked his cheek with her other hand, memorizing how his jaw sloped downward at a sharp angle from his cheekbones, which were set high on his face. She lowered her lips beside his ear.
“Please come back to me,” she whispered.
With a turn of her head, she leaned forward and sealed her mouth to his. The kiss was gentle, a chaste brush of the lips. After a moment, she raised her head, her lips hovering right over his as she slowly opened her eyes. She had never hoped for anything more in her life.
Please let this work.
Something sparkled white, and her eyes widened. Drops of light shimmered against his lips, expanding faster and faster along his skin until his entire body shone with white light.
She squinted her eyes against the powerful aura, shielding her gaze as it grew brighter. It vanished without warning, gone as rapidly as it came. She waited, holding her breath and watching for any sign that her plea had been answered.
A finger twitched, followed by a flexing of his hand as the color returned to Caspar’s skin. Natalia’s mouth spread in a huge smile, tears spilling onto her cheeks as the prince groaned right before he opened his eyes, blinking several times. His gaze shifted and those bright green irises locked onto her. “What happened?” he asked, his voice sounding stuffy.
She took his hand in hers and squeezed. “You’ve come home. That’s all that matters.”
Surprise flickered through his eyes, which softened as his lips pulled up at the corner in that charming way of his. “The Queen?”
She paused, giving him a bittersweet smile. “Gone.”
Relief flooded his features and he reached up to brush a strand of raven hair from her face. “I thought I was supposed to be saving you. That is, after all, what princes do – rescue beautiful damsels.”
She snorted. “Well, I’m hardly a damsel in distress.” She lowered her voice, overwhelmed by joy and love at seeing him smiling back at her. “I really missed you, Caspar.”
He searched her eyes, and she wondered briefly what he was thinking when he suddenly asked, “How did you bring me back?”
She blushed furiously, looking away. “Um, it’s – well, that is –”
Someone bumped her hard from behind and she fell forward against Caspar, who caught her but not before her lips had been firmly planted on his. They looked at each other for a few seconds, lip-locked, before Caspar muttered against her lips, “Oh, to hell with discretion,” and pulled her closer, closing his eyes and kissing her deeply.
She blushed, trying to pull away from him but that only made him cling tighter. Finally, her body responded to his, and she closed her eyes, melting into him as cheers and whistles rang out behind them. When they at last pulled apart, they were both a little breathless, staring into each other’s eyes while they caught their breaths.
Someone cleared his throat behind them and they turned around, seeing Wormwart holding the Queen’s black crown. The blood crystals running along either side gleamed in the moonlight as he thrust it toward her. “Yeh should take this. It’s yers.”
A blush still stained her cheeks as she stood. “That was you who bumped me, wasn’t it?
”
He smirked. “Someone had to initiate it. The tension rolling off yeh two was stifling, even to me.”
Caspar stood up as she tentatively plucked the crown from the dwarf. It weighed next to nothing, as light as a butterfly. The tiers were of even height all around its circumference. One crystal was noticeably bigger than all the others, marking it as the front, she presumed. She stared at herself in that crystal, biting her lip. Crowns were meant for queens and kings. Though she was rightfully royalty – and the true heir to the throne – it felt strange holding it, this symbol of power. With its Gothic appearance, the black crown reminded her too much of the Queen, and what could happen if power was obtained and then abused.
“Darkness always finds a way into the hearts of men.”
Nefrim’s words echoed in her head, fueling her doubts and fears. What if she gave in someday? What if she ended up being no different from the Queen?
What if she wasn’t worthy of this?
There was a soft nudge at her back, and she jerked, startled. “Go ahead,” Caspar said gently, giving her shoulders a squeeze.
She blinked a few times, trying to vanquish her worry. “I believe in you,” she heard Caspar say. With those words, she felt remarkably calmer, surer that this was the right thing to do.
Anxiously, she slowly brought the crown up and placed it on her head. It sank into her hair, seeming perfectly at home there. The moment it settled, she instantly felt the added power of the crystals, honing in and sharpening her magic. The sensation no longer felt uncomfortable, threatening to drive her into madness. It made her feel whole and in control. Around her, Rose and a few of the others gasped.
“What is it?” Natalia asked, unable to keep the worry from her voice. “What’s wrong?”
“The crown,” Caspar said with awe. “It’s changed its appearance. It’s silver now.”
“What?”
She promptly removed the crown, gasping when she found soft peaks of gleaming silver metal. Swirls and etched wildflowers ran alongside the stones, framing them. Though its basic shape was still the same, there was no trace of the Queen’s influence.
Mine. This is truly mine.
Setting her jaw, Natalia placed the crown once again upon her head and straightened her spine. She needed to look confident, even if she didn’t feel like it. She needed to appear strong, even though she was sure they could see her hands and knees shaking. The dwarves, men, and forest creatures lowered themselves to the ground, removing their hats and bowing their heads. Rose was staring at her with wonder, but she quickly closed her eyes and dropped into a curtsy.
The door burst open, and Malachite, trailed by a limping Ivan, walked in. Blood streaked his clothes, and there was a nasty gash across his forehead, but for the most part, he appeared unharmed.
He stopped when he saw her, as did the others behind him. What was left of their army, aside from the dragons and flying horses, entered the room, filling it out and staring at her, wide-eyed. Disbelief and tears of joy ran down their faces when they spied the Queen, lying on the floor, looking perfectly harmless with a slight smile on her lips. Slowly, one by one, they began to kneel.
Natalia’s heart beat faster, and she said, “Please don’t,” but all that came out was a whisper. It was overwhelming.
“My Lady,” Caspar murmured, and she turned to see him bow at the waist, one hand behind his back with the other across his chest.
Every fear she had ever felt in her life magnified at the thought of what was to come. To rule meant great responsibility. Was she ready for it? Would the people accept her, or despise her?
Caspar walked over to her, placing his ear beside her head. “Stand strong,” he whispered. “You can do this.”
She nodded, her breath hitching because her heart was beating so fast. With fearful eyes, she scanned the sea of bowed heads, feeling a strange sense of peace come over her. She couldn’t be weak. This land, these wonderful people around her, needed her. She had to be what the land had prayed for: A fair ruler, someone to listen to the people’s cries for help and answer them swiftly and efficiently; someone who loved the land as dearly as family; a monarch to not only rule, but also to protect, care for, and guide the citizens. They desperately needed that monarch, right now.
They needed someone like her.
Raising her voice, Natalia said, “Rise.”
Everyone rose at once, and the sound of shuffling weight and rustling clothes filled the room. She took one shuddering breath, glancing at Caspar for assistance.
Giving her a reassuring smile, he grasped her hand and held it high. “All hail the true Queen of Thesperia!”
If they had swords, they drew them and raised them in the air. “All hail and long live the Queen!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
A Coronation and a Promise
Upon taking control of the castle, the Queen’s remaining minions were arrested and thrown into the dungeons. Malachite urged for their swift deaths, but Natalia insisted they hold off and give them a fair trial once she was crowned. She had enough death to last her a lifetime. With the Arch Mage and his subordinates incarcerated, she had reinstated Malachite with his old title of High Priest, which he gladly accepted with a warm glow on his face.
The girls under the Queen’s service had been released, free to stay or leave. Some of the quieter ones, to Natalia’s surprise, had opted to stay, and Malachite made them swear fealty to her on the spot. Verika had glared at her and spit at her feet before being escorted off the grounds. Natalia had no idea what became of her.
The Thesperians were brought from the Den back to the city, or what was left of it. There was so much rebuilding to do, both of the town and of the people’s trust in their leaders. Revolution broke out on the eve of the coronation, and they were forced to make it a private ceremony. It hurt her, knowing she couldn’t share this moment with her people when she wanted to tell them how badly she desired to take away all their pain. While protesters lined the castle walls – which were armed with a legion of guards made up of loyal Thesperians, as well as forest dwellers, to keep the crowd under control – Natalia paced inside a waiting room, tapping her slippered foot and anxiously waiting for the coronation to begin.
She had to tell herself to stop wringing her dress, otherwise it would have sweaty handprints on it and be terribly wrinkled when she walked down the aisle toward Malachite, who once again had the authority to crown monarchs. It felt strange to be wearing something so fine. The dress they made for her was smooth red velvet instead of silk, as winter had finally set in. Cold seeped through the stone walls, but the merrily lit fire at the back of the room kept it at bay. When her newly assigned handmaidens, all girls she had once worked with, tried to adorn her with jewels, Natalia had waived them away in irritation. “I’ll have enough jewelry with that crown, thank you,” she said, thanking them once more for their hard work before dismissing them.
Now that she was completely alone, she rather missed their company. It had been a welcome distraction. Tired of pacing, she sat down on the cushioned landing below the window. Her heart was beating fast as she tried in vain to ignore her reflection, which was next to impossible considering the Queen had several large mirrors mounted in the room, no doubt to admire her own beauty. When Natalia first saw her reflection, her mouth had dropped open in a very audible gasp. She was unrecognizable. The tangled mess of a braid had been washed and polished into soft, wavy curls. The dress, thankfully, covered most of her battle scars, though her cheekbone still wore a nasty bruise the makeup hadn’t quite managed to cover. Her skin still possessed that weird glow, flickering with crystals of red every now and then if it caught the light just right. Finally, she understood what Caspar and the dwarves had been seeing. Even her eyes seemed brighter thanks to the light makeup she had finally allowed them to apply. She looked older, more regal.
Like a queen.
Someone lightly knocked at the door, and she cleared her throat. “Come in,” she call
ed over her shoulder from her perch at the window.
The door opened and Caspar stepped inside.
Oh. My.
She wondered if he was aware of how good he looked. His hair was pulled back with a bit of twine, and he wore a deep green tunic that contrasted nicely with the more vivid green of his eyes. He was freshly shaven, making him look a bit younger than twenty. The rapier hung from the leather belt at his side, and he had on tall brown boots to match.
“Wow,” he breathed, taking her in. “You’re a vision.”
She blushed, ducking her head by instinct before catching herself. She forced her eyes back on him. Malachite told her embarrassment was a thing for a girl, not a queen, and she knew he was right. If she was to rule, especially with her people’s favor hanging in the balance, she couldn’t afford to show any sign of weakness. “You clean up well yourself,” she said, winking.
He grinned and came over to sit beside her. “Are you nervous?”
“Not at all.”
“You never were a very good liar.”
She took one of his hands, twining her fingers through his. “Or maybe you just have a way of seeing through my masks.”
He squeezed her hand, gazing at her with a small smile. He looked tired. Since she had no military leader just yet, Caspar had insisted on organizing her forces, working around the clock to make sure she was safe. “You’re going to be a magnificent ruler.” He turned and looked out the window, at the torch-wielding protesting crowd beyond the castle walls. “They will come to see it in time. They’re still too scarred by the Queen and blinded by their fear to think clearly right now.”
Her brow furrowed as she followed his gaze. “I want to help them, Caspar. I’m so afraid I’ll let them down.”
He reached for her chin and gently turned her to face him. “You won’t,” he said, looking her steadily in the eyes.
The moment his eyes dropped to her lips, she found herself leaning forward, tilting her head as he did the same. They were a breath apart when another knock came at the door and they hastily straightened.
A White So Red Page 37
