by Everly Frost
At the end of the first week, Baelen and I travel to Erawind to meet with all of the elven houses. We take a handful of gargoyles with us. Talia’s rosebud mouth opens in awe at the elaborate elven architecture—the sandstone buildings and sculpted gardens. At some stage within the last few days, she has quietly taken over from the old Priestess in the role of my gargoyle advisor—apparently that is the job of the High Priestess—while Elise remains as my elven advisor. I am honored to have these two strong females at my side.
Eli Elder meets us on the city’s outskirts to escort us to the arena where representatives from the elven houses wait to speak with me. As we enter the stadium, I’m glad to find there is no spellcasting at work here today: it is simply a meeting place. If the changes in my appearance stun them, Talia’s beauty makes them gasp. She has regained her strength in the last few days and now she glows; her emerald eyes are radiant, her hair is a river of gold, and her gossamer wings are sparkling silver. As soon as I can, I plan to order the destruction of all the monstrous gargoyle images that the Elven Command used as propaganda to spread fear.
There is a lot to be done to restore trust with the elves. I start the meeting by opening the Heartstone Chest and returning the heartstones to their Houses. The Elven Command had hoarded them but they belong in the hands of their people. The representatives gladly accept the stones, grateful to have them returned. Then I address the need for new leaders in the Houses of the dead Elven Commanders, giving the representatives of those Houses the choice between holding an election or allowing me to choose for them.
A representative from the House of Glory takes a knee, saying, “Our minds have been clouded by sorcery for many years. We do not trust our own judgment. We request that you choose for us. We will hold elections in the future once we trust our own minds again.”
Impressed by their insight, I name Eli Elder, Gwynn Bounty, and Sahara Splendor, knowing they will be fair, wise, and most importantly I can trust them. It is harder to choose for the Houses of Valor and Glory. Grayson has not reappeared so I can’t ask him what he wants to do. And as for Valor, I’ve never trusted any of them.
Luckily, Senturi agreed to come with me to this meeting. I hide a smile when the representatives from the Houses of Glory and Valor take a step back as he descends from the dais to study them. I don’t blame them. Senturi is in full ferocious form. A fur coat cast across his shoulders, he’s sporting his double chain of talons, making him appear wild and fierce. He stops in front of one of the Valor representatives. The older elf is the only one who doesn’t look away. This elf bears a scar above his eye and his features are hardened. He is not the one I would have chosen but Senturi gives me a nod, returning to my side to murmur to me, “He is a loyalist who believes in the Crown. He is ferocious and will bring his House into line.”
I ask, “And Glory?”
Senturi points at the male who asked me to choose for them. “That one’s daughter. She was instrumental in the protest after you were mistreated in this arena. Since your disappearance, she has worked tirelessly behind the scenes to free imprisoned dissenters.”
“Dissenters?”
“Elves who protested against the Elven Command. They have all been released now.”
“Thank you, Senturi.” I turn back to the representatives. “Now, let’s talk about the future.”
I’m exhausted by the time we’re done, but I’ve begun building bridges and that is the most critical thing right now.
That night, we stay in my old quarters. It is surreal being here now. So many memories are caught between these walls. So much heartache. As night falls and the moon shines full, I head to my old bedroom, taking Baelen with me. I lead him to my old bathing room and close the door. This time, he won’t leave this room without holding my hand and more.
The days blur over the next month with all the work that needs to be done in both countries. While I go about restoring peace, strange and random things begin to happen in Erador. First, the talon crows disappear. Then the shadow panther population decreases rapidly—almost as if someone is hunting them mercilessly. The Outlier Clan reports that sightings of crows and panthers have become very rare. They bow deeply to Baelen when they tell us that the predator population hasn’t been this low since his time in the wastelands. Then, the day after Iago and his builders finish the new home for the Priestesses and orphaned children, elegant wooden furniture and plush seats miraculously appear in the living and dining areas. It looks suspiciously like the furniture from Grayson’s cage. The children love it.
At the end of the first month, I awake in my bed in the Royal Residence with a start, sensing… a force I haven’t felt for a while. Baelen tugs on me when I slide out of bed, half-asleep, but I whisper for him to go back to sleep—I’m okay. I dress quickly and head out into the dark before dawn.
My living arrangements for now are quite nomadic. I plan to spend two months at a time in each of the Royal Residence in Erador and then my quarters in Erawind, visiting my family on the way through. Iago is already making noises with a gleam in his eye about building me a new palace right on the border between the two countries. I tell him, “All in good time.”
I follow the tingle in the air all the way past the new home for the children, past Crimson Court, and to the springs. I tread carefully inside, pausing at the spot where the walkway opens up into the cavern.
Grayson stands at the edge of the water with his back to me. He doesn’t move, but he knows I’m here. Without turning, he says, “I wonder what would happen if I went in.”
I cross the distance to stand by his side, considering the glistening pond. Sorcery and deep magic don’t combine, but I’m not sure to what extent those rules apply to Grayson—a natural sorcerer whose power doesn’t derive from death. I’ve already asked Elise to undertake as much research as she can about natural sorcery, but since Grayson is only the second ever born, we’re in unknown territory.
He finally turns to me as he asks, “Would the water kill me? Or would it give me back my wings?”
My lips part a little. He’s grown a beard. He wears a chain of talons and claws around his neck. It seems to be a thing.
He steps back from the water’s edge, seeming to decide against stepping in. “Sorcery and deep magic are like fire and kindling. A bad combination.”
“I think you’re forgetting...” I tap my headpiece, my finger landing on Incorruptible’s iciness. “I can put out flames before they start.”
Elyria lost her wings in this place. Maybe Grayson can get his back. I plant my feet and access my power, lowering the temperature in the air to a point where my breath frosts.
He’s startled. “You’re serious?”
“I am. You deserve to have your wings back.”
“Deserve? Hardly.” His jaw clenches. The tension in his shoulders makes him hunch a little.
I shake my head at him. If he had wings, they would curl around him right now, forming a protective shield. He doesn’t even know he’s accessing those muscles in his back. I become very stern. “Grayson Glory, I am Supreme Incorruptible and I order you to go in.”
He searches my face for a long moment as if he’s trying to see the future—does it contain new wings or death?
Then he removes his boots. He doesn’t take it one step at a time, diving straight into the water. I brace for impact. Despite what I said, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. Maybe he’ll never come up again. Maybe the water will explode. Maybe I’ve been really, seriously, stupidly reckless…
His head emerges. He reaches up to slick back his hair, wiping the water off his face. I let out the breath I was holding.
He looks at me. I look at him.
We’re both waiting.
He slowly tips backward, a strange expression flooding his face. Then, in an increasingly loud shout, right before he topples backward, arms flailing, he yells, “Holy fuck! They’re heavy!”
Gold glitters beneath the water’s surface, a growing mass attac
hed to his back. The Elven Commanders had described Grayson’s wings as dirty and filthy, but they aren’t. Not at all.
He scrambles to right himself, managing to roll to his side, paddling through the water, and finally crawling up the steps. Giant wings fall across his back and spill across the rocks as he claws his way on hands and knees to dry land. He collapses against the stones, staring side to side from one wing to the other. His wings are golden, shot through with silver swirls, glistening and strong.
“Well,” he pants, raising a hopeful eyebrow. “I guess I’ll be camouflaged against… I don’t know… the sun?”
I burst out laughing. I’m finding it very hard not to make a derogatory comment about the fact that it’s his turn to land on his hands and knees in front of me. I hold out my hand to help him stand up.
“Wait,” he says. “I can do this.”
With great concentration, he slowly rises to a knee, testing his balance, testing his strength, acclimatizing to the massive new weight across his back. Hunching forward to maintain his balance, thigh muscles bunching, he very slowly rises to a standing position, closing his eyes to help him focus.
He takes a step toward me, eyes still closed. His wings slowly rise, extending then retracting as he tests them out, his balance gradually returning, muscles working less and less hard to keep him upright.
Finally, he opens his eyes and takes another step. And another. His wings extend and curl around me. Very carefully, he draws me into a warm hug. “Thank you.”
He releases me, but I return the hug, murmuring against his chest. “Come back to the Residence now, Grayson. There are gargoyles you need to meet.”
He gives me a cautious smile. “Okay.”
“And get rid of that beard.”
“Yes, Supreme Incorruptible.”
By the time we reach the Royal Residence, the sun has broken across the horizon. I lead Grayson to the food hall, since there’s no point taking things slowly. Silence descends as soon as he appears; the gargoyles stop talking and put down their knives and forks.
At the back of the room, my warrior husband scrapes back his chair, rises to full Rath height, and strides toward us with purposeful steps, a challenge written across his face. He stops two paces away from us and considers Grayson’s wings and the row of talons around his neck.
Grayson tucks his wings tight into his sides, holding them low and non-threatening, his chin tucked slightly down. It is such a gargoyle thing to do, a gesture of respect, that the challenge fades from Baelen’s posture. Something unspoken passes between the two males.
Finally, Baelen breaks the silence. “I got the same reaction when I first arrived. It will change.” It’s not exactly a welcome, but it’s the closest that Grayson will get.
The tension leaves Grayson’s shoulders, and I shoot Baelen a grateful smile, but we haven’t made it more than a few steps when my name is called from the door.
Talia glides into the room. “Marbella—”
She freezes as soon as she sees Grayson, her eyes widening. She gasps at his wings, her own drawing back as if she’s about to take flight and escape. It caused Talia a lot of pain when Grayson broke her shield during the battle—and that was on top of knocking her unconscious on the cliff top when she was defending Llion and Liliana’s children. She opens her mouth. Shuts it again, her jaw clenching.
Head high, she promptly spins on her heel and stalks away.
Grayson hunches beneath his wings, his body deflating. He’s only had his wings for two seconds but he’s already exhibiting all his emotions with them. There is no point hiding behind a mask anymore. He walks quietly, as if he’s afraid he’ll startle everyone more than he already has.
After two steps toward our table, Adalie jumps down from the breakfast table and runs right up to him, staring wide-eyed at the chain around his neck. Without a word, she holds up her own, proudly pointing at the single talon on it.
A faint smile lights up Grayson’s face. Adalie is a very little girl, small for her age, and the acknowledging nod he gives her says that the fact she has killed a talon crow—even a small one—is impressive.
She holds out her arms to be picked up and his eyes turn into saucers. He glances left and right.
I shake my head with a laugh. “She doesn’t mean me.”
Adalie says, “Golden Gargoyle, you need a hug.”
She calls him a gargoyle. His eyes widen even further.
Baelen grins at them both. Any hint of distrust on his part disappears. Adalie can see right into Grayson’s soul and if she trusts him, then none of us have anything to fear from him. Baelen swings Adalie up and deposits her into Grayson’s arms. Grayson catches her and she giggles, throwing her little arms around his big chest, snuggling her head against his heart.
“Careful, Grayson,” I whisper as I glide past. “She will steal your heart and discover all your secrets in a single beat.”
Grayson is frozen. He holds her as if she’ll break, shocked when she doesn’t. Thawing with each second, he drops his head to briefly press his cheek to the top of her forehead. He is full of amazement. “Her hair is so soft.”
He has never held a child before. I widen my eyes at him with emphasis. “You should hold the babies. They have the softest skin you’ve ever felt. But first… breakfast.”
After that, Grayson works very hard to assimilate into the gargoyle way of life, taking up work with Iago traveling all over Erador repairing damaged homes and rebuilding ones that Howl destroyed long ago. One morning, I enter the food hall to find him sitting with Roar and Gilda and their two children. He and Roar have similar wing structures and I find them comparing the patterns on their wings.
Afterward, Grayson tells me, “I’m trying to find out who my father was. I think he might have been from the same clan as Roar—the Sunflight Clan.”
“That’s also Talia’s clan.”
He falls quiet. “I have one more apology to make, but I don’t know how to make it.”
“Not to me, surely.”
A self-satisfied smile touches his lips. He almost laughs, but not quite. “The only thing I’ll apologize to you for is that I’m not sorry.”
I try not to smile.
“No… this apology is to someone who did nothing but try to protect her friends…”
I purse my lips. I’ve seen the way he looks at Talia. He wants to bridge the gap but doesn’t know how and she is definitely not making it easy for him. If anything, she has become even more fierce and distant. “Talk to Roar. He may have some ideas.”
Grayson nods and goes on his way.
I hardly see him for months. Winter comes and goes. My peoples’ battles become smaller: a crop that fails, a storm that destroys several homes (not my doing), and finally, the hilarious debate about how to fit the elven crown on my head at the same time as my headpiece.
Ten months after the battle, I awake to the day of my official coronation. Today I will receive both the elven crown and the mark of the Supreme Incorruptible. As my eyes open to the new day and sunlight drifts through my window, Baelen strokes my hair, kissing my forehead and then my lips. “Good morning Supreme Incorruptible.”
“Good morning, Wrathful One.”
He gathers me up against him so that I’m lying on top of him. I push up so I can see his face, my auburn hair falling like a curtain around his face. He strokes my back, a slow smile growing as he finds the base of my shirt and my bare skin. His feather-light touch scatters shivers all the way to my toes.
I will never get tired of the look in his eyes that tells me our bodies are too far apart. “I love you, Baelen Rath.”
He rears up beneath me, gathering my legs around his waist and raising us into a sitting position. “I love you, Marbella Mercy.”
My answer is a kiss. There are no adequate words to tell him how much I feel for him. Only actions. A long time later, a discrete knock at my door tells me we’re late. I throw the door open, fully clothed and dressed now, surprising Tali
a and Elise who both wait for me and probably expected me to be scrambling right now. They are both dressed in simple, elegant gowns, their smiles making them glow. Behind them, my family beam at me, rushing forward to hug me until I’m breathless. My brother knocks the air out of my lungs with his enormous bear hug.
We are in the Rath House because this is where I have chosen to be crowned.
Elise flaps her hands at Macsen. “Don’t crush her dress.”
The way he grins back at her and drawls, “Yes, Ma’am,” makes me narrow my eyes between them. Before I can think too much about whether there’s something going on between them that I don’t know about, Mom squeezes my hand and says, “We’re so proud of you, sweetheart. You have brought peace to our land.”
Baelen prowls up behind me, dressed in full Rath armor. He whisks me down the hallway while my family follows. I wanted to have my coronation in the courtyard at the front of the house, but Talia insisted I needed to be somewhere up high where everyone can see me. The Rath mansion is built with a wide, flat roof from which soldiers can be stationed with a view in both directions. It’s a good compromise. We climb the wide staircase that opens out onto the back of the roof. My family wasn’t allowed near me when I was officially named the Storm Princess. Now they will stand beside me for my coronation.
The Phoenix waits for us, guarding the elven crown that sits on a tall pedestal at the front of the roof. It was Llion who came up with the solution for wearing both crowns at the same time, simply lifting the elven crown and placing it on top of my headpiece. Since my headpiece has a flat band at the top, the more elaborate crown only needed a size adjustment to sit neatly on top of it. He did a perfect job.
