by N. C. Hayes
“I need to talk to you,” he said without preamble.
“I’m busy,” I replied coolly, moving past him. He grabbed my arm and Hannele’s head turned so quickly, I thought she had hurt herself.
“You dare to put your hands on a lady of the King’s Cabinet—” I put my hand up to stop her.
“It’s fine. Go inside, I’ll meet up with you in a bit.”
Hannele looked at Stefan, then back at me. “If you’re not inside soon, I’m sending Alastair to come find you,” she said.
“No need,” I assured her. “I’ll be fine. Go.” Hannele shot a warning glance at Stefan before walking away. I waited until the door clicked shut before I turned back to Stefan. “What do you want?”
“I just want to talk.”
“Here’s your opportunity.” I crossed my arms. “I have dinner plans, so please be quick.”
His brow furrowed. “Shaye, I am—I’m so sorry for my behavior. I-I don’t know what came over me. I just, I care about you so much . . .” He stopped himself. “There is so much that you don’t know yet. But you have every right to be angry with me. I would be too.”
“Stef,” I sighed, wondering what he meant but too tired to ask him to elaborate. “You know that I care about you too. I’m grateful for you, for your friendship. We both know I wouldn’t have survived those early weeks without you.” The sound of a whip cracking shot through my mind, and I did my best to ignore it. “But you can’t act this way just because I’m late, or when I get tied up with my work.”
“I just want to make things up to you,” he said quietly, taking my hand. “Let me escort you to the coronation ball tomorrow night.”
“I’m attending with the Cabinet,” I replied. “We’re to escort the king to the ceremony.”
“The Guard is also escorting His Majesty,” Stefan said. “Perhaps we can sit together during the ceremony? Then I can accompany you to the feast. We can talk more.” He waited expectantly while I considered. I should have told him no, that his apology was not suitable after ignoring me for nearly a month.
“I’ll go,” I said instead. “But understand that I must be available to the king until the feast.”
“I know. Thank you, Shaye.” The door to the king’s chambers opened and out walked Alastair, hands clasped behind his back.
“Princess Hannele has asked that I come to escort you to dinner,” he said.
“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” I replied before turning back to Stefan. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled and bent to kiss my cheek before walking away without another word. I touched the spot before I could stop myself, then scowled slightly.
“Are you all right?” Alastair asked.
“Yes.” I turned on my heel. “And I would prefer if you’d keep what you just saw to yourself.”
“I didn’t see anything.”
I followed behind him, glaring into his back until we reached the dining room, where Aydan sat lazily in his chair, shuffling through some paperwork that no one had forced him to put away yet. Hannele and Gerridan stood, pouring drinks and talking in hushed tones. Hannele stopped when she saw me.
“What did he say?” she asked, holding out a goblet.
“He apologized for his behavior.” I sighed, taking it to sit next to Aydan. “He’s going to accompany me to the feast tomorrow night.” Aydan coughed suddenly, bumping his drink with his elbow and spilling it onto his papers. I snapped my fingers and the wine cleared itself from the papers and made its way back into the goblet. Gerridan snatched it from the table.
“Bravo.” He peered into the cup and made a face. “A bit unsanitary for my taste, but it got the job done.”
“I’ve been practicing,” I replied before summoning a fresh drink to the table, willing it to set itself down before Aydan, who thanked me with an approving nod. “Are we waiting on Kenna?” I asked no one in particular.
“She said she had a meeting,” Alastair responded as he banished Aydan’s paperwork and then took the seat opposite from him, “but that was hours ago.”
“Oh hush, I’m here,” Kenna said as she walked through the door. Her peaches and cream complexion was brighter, glowing even, as it usually did following her visits to her various companions in court. She poured herself a drink and seated herself next to Alastair. “What did I miss?”
Gerridan pulled Hannele’s chair out for her before sitting at her left and replying with a sigh, “Shaye has reconciled her friendship with Lord Stefan.” Kenna’s eyes widened, delighted.
“And?” She looked expectantly between me and the emissary.
“And he’ll be accompanying her to the feast tomorrow night,” he said flatly. Kenna’s head tilted back as she cackled. I watched Gerridan reach into his jacket pocket and toss a coin purse onto the dining table. Hannele rolled her eyes.
“I’m sorry, are the two of you gambling on my friendship with Stefan?”
“Lighten up, it’s my first win!” Kenna laughed, jingling the purse. Gerridan crossed his arms.
“They all place bets on everything.” Aydan leaned in my direction so I could hear his softened voice over the sound of Kenna’s one-woman celebration. “Kenna usually isn’t allowed to play, being a seer.”
“But since our arrival, my read on you has become quite unpredictable, my darling blind spot. Gerridan made an exception.”
“Yes, one that I won’t be making again,” Gerridan countered. Kenna blew him a kiss, and he mumbled a string of expletives that sent Hannele’s elbow into his ribs.
“Can we please just eat?” Alastair asked. He waved his hand and platters of food appeared before us. The teasing between Gerridan and Kenna stopped almost immediately as plates and bowls were passed back and forth.
“Why can’t you see me?” I asked Kenna as I dished roasted vegetables onto my plate. She’d seemed to have such a clear, albeit strange, read on me the first night we’d met. She shrugged.
“I can’t see anything related to witchcraft,” she explained, taking the dish from my hands. “You may not be a true witch, but my sight doesn’t know that. You’d been keeping the rest of your magic hidden up until the night we arrived. I imagine the witchcraft went somewhat dormant if you were only using it to light an occasional fire. It’s not that I can’t see you . . . Things have just been getting murky. As your abilities develop, it may get worse. Something about differing vibrations. My father once told me why, but I’ve long since forgotten, and frankly I wouldn’t believe anything that bastard had to say anyway.” Gerridan nodded over his roast beef and Kenna set the dish down with an air of finality.
~
After dinner, I settled in the lounge. Aydan sat beside me, watching with approval as I demonstrated some of the skills he had been teaching me when time allowed. We were alone as Kenna had another of her meetings to attend, and when Alastair had mumbled that he was turning in early, Hannele and Gerridan loudly announced that they would be taking a walk.
After he was satisfied with my ability to sort sewing needles from matchsticks without touching them, Aydan asked with mischief in his voice, “Do you want to try playing with fire?”
My mouth twitched. “I don’t think I should risk burning down the king’s chambers the night before his coronation.”
“It’ll give me a reason to go home to Sylvanna,” he replied, chuckling. I fell silent, palms going clammy at the thought. “Are you all right?” He reached for my hand and I flinched, then forced a tight-lipped smile and nodded.
“Of course. Yes. I’m fine, just a bit more tired than I thought.” I stood and held my hands out toward the matches. “Let’s play.” Aydan didn’t look convinced but continued anyway.
“Light every other match, then go back to the start and put each one out.” I flexed my fingers once and focused my mind.
Nothing happened.
Narrowing my eyes, I pushed the will of my mind into my palms.
A moment passed, and my hands began to shake. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my brea
thing became sharp. Aydan stood next to me. “Shaye, stop. It’s fine.”
“I can do it.”
“You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I said I’m fine—”
The table burst into flames.
Aydan swore and pushed me behind him. He grabbed a blanket from the back of one of the sofas, but before he could smother the blaze, I watched my own hand reach out and drench the fire with a hard stream of water.
When the flames were out and the table steamed before us, mahogany wood now charred and black, Aydan finally turned his eyes toward me. I stared at my hands, then covered my face, shaking.
“Shaye . . .” he said softly.
“I’m sorry,” I choked, wiping at my eyes. “I don’t know what to . . . I’m so sorry.” The room spun, and I felt like I might be sick.
“Is this the first time with water?” He took my hand. I did not pull away this time.
“Yes. Well, no,” I said, looking down at the floor. I told him about the ice in the dress shop that day.
With his free hand, Aydan tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get this under control, I promise.” His thumb brushed my cheek, wiping away a tear. I suddenly realized how close we were standing. Our breath mingled. I stepped back and wiped my eyes again before turning to leave—too quickly. I swayed and grabbed the back of the sofa to steady myself. Aydan reached out to help, but I raised a hand to stop him.
“I’m fine. I just need—I need to go. I’m so sorry, Aydan,” I stammered again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He called after me as I shoved my way through the door to the main hall. I didn’t stop, and instead all but ran the length of the corridor to my suite.
Once inside, I shut the door, leaned against it, and let myself slide to the ground. I couldn’t stand any longer if I tried. Sobs tore through my chest so hard it hurt, and Catchfly rubbed against my legs, nudging her head into my lap. I gathered her into my arms and held her tight.
Pressing my face into her warm fur, I whispered, “I just want it to stop.” Catchfly purred against me until I drifted into darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next evening, the Cabinet members and I stood in Aydan’s foyer, waiting to escort him to the temple, where the coronation ceremony would take place. I had been roused from sleep by Elise early that morning, with her shaking me and calling out my name.
“My lady, are you quite all right?” I blinked, peeling my head away from my arm and sitting up. Realizing I had slept on the floor the whole night.
“I’m fine. Thank you, Elise,” I mumbled and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “Rough night.”
“I see,” she said, then held out a hand to help me to my feet. “Well, I hope it wasn’t too rough. Today is a big day.”
“I’ll get in the bath,” I said. “That’ll help.”
Elise had outdone herself. It was my first real event as a lady of the Cabinet, and did I ever look the part: Elise managed my hair into shiny waves and then into an intricate braided style that took hours to complete, even with magic to assist her. She’d kept my face nearly bare, save for some rouge on my cheeks, before curling my eyelashes and leaving me to dress.
Now we stood, counting down the minutes while Kenna tapped her foot impatiently. She and Hannele were stunning. When they’d entered the room, Gerridan’s breath had hitched before he swallowed and quickly wiped the emotion from his face. He greeted them each with a kiss on the cheek, flirting as usual. Hannele’s mauve dress had turned out exactly like her sketch, with full, flowing satin skirts and a neckline so low I nearly blushed—until I saw Kenna.
Kenna wore a lagoon blue gown with no bodice at all. The seer’s breasts were covered only by panels of gauzy fabric, crisscrossed over the tops of her shoulders, and her skirt was made of the same bright cobweb material, with a slit to reveal her leg all the way up to her hip. Like Hannele’s, it looked like it had been made especially for her. She clearly hoped to scandalize tonight.
The door opened, and Stefan entered with three other guardsmen. I recognized one—an older, graying mortal named Gregory who had accompanied me often when I was a servant. Stefan and his men all wore their ceremonial armor, plated in gold, embellished with the winged lion crest of House Aevitarus.
“You look so different.” He leaned down to kiss my cheek. I flushed, glancing around to see if any of the Cabinet had seen or cared. Gerridan made brief eye contact with me and raised his eyebrows.
“Thank you, I think,” I replied.
“You know what I mean.” Stefan chuckled. I smiled tightly back at him. He was probably just nervous, I told myself. And I did look different; the gown Hannele had selected for me was a deep wine color, with a lace bodice and sleeves reaching down to my wrists. The gossamer skirts were light and easy to move in, and quite like Kenna’s without the leg slit.
A door shut somewhere in the suite, and a minute later, Aydan appeared in the doorway. He paused, looking around at us all. His plain white shirt was untucked from black pants. He wore no shoes, no adornments, and no jewels of any kind. He was meant to be humbled when entering the temple for anointment. I thought he looked terrified.
We all began to kneel in unison, but Aydan bid us to stand.
“Thank you all, for your commitment to the Crown, and for your trust in me,” he said. “I am not the king any of you expected, but I intend to make it my life’s mission to be the king you deserve.” He inclined his head toward us, and we remained hushed. Eventually, he cleared his throat and stepped past us into the corridor.
The temple, once a wing of its own in the Grand Palace, was now in a space hardly larger than a dance hall on the southeast end of the castle. Gerridan had told me weeks ago that King Zathryan’s coronation had nearly a thousand guests in attendance. Aydan’s would have perhaps fifty; the rest would be present at the feast and the ball following the ceremony.
“It’s probably for the best,” he said. “Lovely Aydan will be nervous enough as it is.”
Walking behind Aydan now, slightly to his right, I could see him opening and closing his fist, occasionally wiping his palm on his thigh. I wished I could comfort him somehow. To my left, Stefan strode in step with me. He glanced in my direction and winked, smiling slightly. Uneasy, I returned the smile. It felt strange to have Aydan and Stefan so near one another. Wrong, somehow. I shook the thought from my mind as we reached the temple doors, which opened upon Aydan’s arrival.
The High Priest stood before us, holding a chalice in his hands. The temple was dark behind him.
“The Tears of Ehnara,” the High Priest murmured. With a wave of his hand, Aydan’s shirt disappeared. He dipped his fingers into the chalice and brought them to Aydan’s forehead, drew a moon shape there, and let droplets of the blessed water fall on his chest, over top of his heart. The High Priest then made his way to each member of the Cabinet, and the guardsmen accompanying us, tracing the moon on our faces as well. He stepped aside and bid us to enter.
Slowly, we walked down the darkened aisle toward a small stage, marked only by candlelight. I could barely make out the shapes around me but could sense that the temple was filled with people, watching and waiting. Stefan’s guards took their places at the back of the room, but he followed beside me. When we had delivered Aydan to the temple alter, my new friends and I found our seats on a long bench in the front row. Stefan sat closely beside me, our legs touching. I felt him staring at me out of the corner of his eye but ignored him as I watched the ceremony unfold.
Aydan was on his knees at the altar.
“Father Lehrun and Mother Ehnara bless us this night,” the High Priestess began in a low tone that reached the far corners of the room. “As we honor generations of tradition, we also look to the future.”
Over the next hour, Aydan sat perfectly still on his knees while the High Priest and Priestess took turns reciting prayers and giving sermons about the grace of the Mother and protection of the Fa
ther, the significance of the crown Aydan would soon wear, and the unrelenting, holy power of anointed kings. Aydan’s face was somber, and his eyes were glazed. It was time for the anointing.
The High Priest approached a pedestal on the dais where he stood and presented a glass vessel. The room shifted as the coronation witnesses realized what it was—the Dyadic Oil.
Hannele had explained in whispers, while supervising the planning of the feast, that the Dyadic Oil was said to be held in a secret location by the High Priest and Priestess. The oil, preserved by magic for seven thousand years, was the same oil that was used during the first coronation, when Ehnara and Lehrun themselves named the first King of Medeisia. Each anointed king—and the one anointed queen, Euna—were the only Medeisians to ever be touched by the blessed oil, which was as good as being touched by the gods themselves.
The High Priest dipped a gold-handled brush into the oil before drawing a shape on Aydan’s forehead, where he had drawn the moon in holy water an hour before. He dipped the brush again and began drawing more symbols on Aydan’s neck, arms, and chest. His tattoos shone beneath the oil in the candlelit temple hall.
The High Priestess opened a large box and lifted the coronation crown. I felt my palms grow hot as she raised it above her head and presented it to the witnesses. I wiped my hands on my skirt. Gods, not now, I thought. The crown, which was solid gold and encrusted with diamonds and sapphires, formed into tall points representing the rays of the sun. My breath shallowed as I watched the High Priestess lower the crown onto Aydan’s head. She bid him to rise, and he faced us, expressionless. The magic in the room shifted, bearing down upon all of us who watched as the freshly anointed king gazed out into the audience. Every head in the temple lowered, and unexpected tears pricked in my eyes. I blinked them away. When we lifted our heads again, I glanced past Stefan to Gerridan, whose eyes were wet as well.
