Crystal Crowned [ARC]

by Elise Kova

  Things had actually progressed smoothly on that front. Last Elecia heard, Vhalla and Aldrik were struggling with breaking the news of the deal they’d struck with Sehra to their advisors and quickly recovering Senate. But the princess seemed ever patient, poised, and unworried. She was not a scheming ruler waiting at Vhalla’s bedside for a child. It reassured Elecia and her mother, who was the newly appointed ambassador. Despite the turmoil, things were moving toward peace.

  Elecia stretched her legs, glancing out the window. She may have been able to walk to the capital faster.

  The carriage door swung open as the wheels ground to a halt. Elecia hardly acknowledged the man who had driven her halfway across the continent. He had been so-so at best, she mused as she drew her cloak about her. It was a wonderful garment that had been specially made at her request, lined with thick fur, an inner layer of wool, and an outer layer of rich red velvet to keep out the chill—function and fashion. It kept her warm, she determined as she stepped off the metal rung onto the snow-covered ground of the stables.

  Rebuilding had progressed nicely. The new stables were erected, and the decorative wood overlays looked to have been receiving their first coats of paint and gilding when the wet part of winter had set in and stalled work. She thought the wings over a certain horse’s stable were a bit much. But Aldrik always had a flair for the dramatic and overt symbolism when it came to the woman. As if he really needed to mark his territory; the woman only had eyes for him. The irony had never been lost on Elecia when her cousin was so secretive on everything else.

  “Elecia!” a familiar voice called.

  Fritz raced over to her from the palace stairs, darting from a side door. His hair had grown out, and part was pulled back behind his head in a limp ponytail. Elecia tilted her head. Somehow, the weight pulled out the wave and frizz and made it more presentable. It matched the formal clothes they had thrown him into, more befitting of his station than the shaggy cut he wore prior.

  “It’s been awhile.” Elecia smiled. She had decided forever ago that Fritz was worthy of her smiles. But only if too many people weren’t looking.

  “Too!” He threw his arms around her, and, were it not for Elecia planting her feet to the ground with a small tingle of magic a moment before her reached her, she would’ve toppled into the wet snow. “Long!”

  “You are making a scene.” She patted his back nicely before shoving him away with both hands. He could be as bad as an Easterner with his affection. A habit he’d no doubt learned from a certain someone. “Now, let me look at you.”

  “Are you coming to see Vhal? You must be, right? I hear she’s refused all other clerics. Wait ‘til you see her! She’s—” Fritz was practically bouncing up and down.

  “Yes, yes. I’m here to see our stubborn little Empress,” Elecia cut him off before he got carried away. With a small amount of amusement, she reached up and looked at the broken moon pin he had affixed to his chest. “Don’t you look official, Lord Charem?”

  “Stop it.” Fritz pulled away with a laugh. He had been the hardest to convince to accept his new role in Aldrik and Vhalla’s world order. With Victor dead, a new Minister of Sorcery was needed. Once Vhalla got the idea in her head of Fritz filling the role, no one could persuade her differently. The woman was bound to have at least one or two good ideas.

  “How have you been settling into it?” Elecia asked, folding her hands behind her back. Aldrik always looked so regal when he did so. She was the cousin of the Emperor and the Lady of the West in training; she had every right to look regal.

  “Some bumps, here and there.” Fritz scratched the back of his head as they walked for the palace, Elecia’s baggage being unloaded behind them. “Not everyone agreed with Vhal on my appointment.”

  “Power hungry mongrels, Fritz.” Elecia shook her head, sending the snow scattering onto the stone steps leading into the palace. “No matter what, there were going to be people clamoring for prestige in the aftermath.”

  “That’s what Aldrik said.” Fritz sent snow scattering off his own shoulders.

  “Aldrik.” Elecia glanced down, adjusting her cloak. It served to hide a small grin. It had always grated her cousin that a common born Southerner seemed to have little qualms addressing him by his first name without ever receiving express permission. Naturally, Elecia saw no point in correcting Fritz. Someone had to give Aldrik a hard time when she wasn’t around. “How is my dear cousin?”

  “Slowly going crazy.” Fritz laughed. “With Vhalla as she is.”

  “Lovely,” Elecia rolled her eyes. Why did men seek to complicate the littlest things when it came to the nature of women?

  They ascended the stairs together until they reached halfway to the Imperial quarters. Fritz told her how they had decided to postpone the Festival of the Sun this year. That there was too much left to rebuild to be putting on a lavish festival. Elecia hummed over that; it wouldn’t have been her choice.

  She understood why last year’s Festival of the Sun had been cancelled. It would have come only months after Victor’s ultimate demise. But this year, this year she felt the people could use a touch of normalcy in their lives. It was one of the many times that Elecia wondered what kind of Empress she would have been if given the chance.

  An Eastern man waited in the hall. His palm was on the stone of a windowsill, and, with a small smile, he watched the snow fall outside. He turned upon hearing them approach.

  “Grahm,” Elecia held out her hand.

  “Lady Ci’Dan.” Grahm took her hand and shook it warmly. It had taken some time to convince Elecia that Grahm was worthy of the Southerner whom she had claimed as her own—but he won her over eventually. “It is good to see you in the palace once more. How are you?”

  The man’s work with the Silver Wings had made him the figurehead of the resistance, someone people looked to. Elecia’s tolerance of him warmed to a quiet appreciation as time dragged on. And the effect he had on Fritz was heartwarming. If Aldrik and Vhalla weren’t bad, these two were almost enough to make her feel lonely.

  Elecia’s eyes glossed over the knot in Grahm’s sleeve. She’d managed to salvage that mess of an amputation following the final battle of the war. The amputation, the crystals going dormant, or both had saved Grahm’s life. Though, Fritz still wrote her time to time asking about the dreams that still afflicted his now engaged, fearful of the taint. Elecia reassured him; there were so many reasons for them all to have nightmares.

  “I am in the South in the winter; how well do you think I am?” Elecia bemoaned once more, drawing her cloak tighter about her for effect.

  “Shall I have a Firebearer appointed to your chambers again to ensure they are properly warmed before bed?” Grahm asked.

  With that offer, Elecia knew instantly who was the real Minister of Sorcery. “You thought that would even be a question?” She sniffed at the cold air about her.

  “It will be my pleasure.” Grahm smiled.

  “Join us for dinner?” Fritz asked, tugging on her hand like a little brother.

  “If the Imperial family does not demand me.” Elecia nodded.

  “I haven’t seen Vhal in forever!” Fritz whined. “If they demand you, then bring me with you!”

  “It’s only been three days.” Grahm chuckled, adjusting the knot at the bottom of a limp sleeve.

  “Forever!” Fritz repeated, exasperated.

  His friendship with the Eastern woman had intrigued Elecia at the beginning. It took some time before she realized what drew people to Vhalla Yarl. As much as she tried otherwise, she, too, was eventually ensnared by the woman’s determination and general optimism. Elecia would likely die before she let the Empress know. Someone had to make sure their Windwalker did not get haughty.

  “She’s busy with the library,” Grahm reminded Fritz.

  “Oh, who was appointed Master of Tome?” Elecia asked. It had not been decided when she left. The last master had not made it through the w
ar, and the news had hit Vhalla hard.

  “Vhal’s old friend, I think her name is . . .” Fritz chewed it over. “Roan, it’s Roan.”

  Elecia remembered Vhalla going through multiple conversations with the woman. They’d seemed tense. She hadn’t understood at the time; anyone would be ecstatic to be elevated beyond their status. But the Empress had refused to speak on it, handling it entirely between her and the Southern woman. Well, whatever it was had clearly been worked out.

  Time was what they all needed. People moved away as soon as they were free to do so. For the first months after the end of the war, the capital felt like a town of facades, beautiful outside but empty on the inside.

  Too many people had seen too much and experienced such horrors that the streets would never be the same again. It led to a decline in the normally steep price of capital homes, and Aldrik had been smart enough to raise taxes before people took advantage of the low prices and started buying. Thus, the crown’s coffers were replenishing.

  Even now, the castle seemed understaffed to Elecia. After saying goodbye to Fritz and Grahm, it was too long before she saw another staff or servant. Time would heal this, too, of that she was certain.

  Elecia had not been immune. She’d had to leave and return for the West. It was all too much to still be in the place where there had been so much blood and death. She needed to see her family and simply relax, but she hadn’t told anyone else that. The last thing she wanted people to think was that she was weak. Others would be like her. Once they breathed, they would come home.

  The Imperial halls were almost back to normal. Once all the crystal debris had been cleared, they had put a low priority—comparative to all which needed to be done—on restoring the artistic nature of the palace. She was surprised at how far they had come in one year. As she rounded the staircase up the main atrium that housed the Emperor and Empress, she was impressed at how normal it all seemed.

  She paused briefly and looked down the hall that she knew led to Aldrik and Baldair’s old rooms. What were they being used for now? Perhaps Vhalla’s father had been put up in one. It seemed a shame to let them sit empty. Though, the Imperial living area was so large and room-filled that there was almost always going to be something that stood vacant.

  The door to the Emperor and Empress’s chambers was a large portal at the highest point in the atrium. It was an arched double doorway cast entirely in gold. Aldrik’s father had been so gaudy in his choices for decor. She gave the knocker a solid rap, wondering if they had truly not heard of her arrival yet.

  A minute dragged by, and Elecia began to feel offended by lack of greeting.

  “They’re not there,” a male voice echoed up from halfway down the stairs—through the entire hollow of the room.

  Elecia stilled, turning slowly. She didn’t allow for one crack in her usual demeanor. She pretended to ignore the tingle on her skin as she turned to look at the frustratingly stunning specimen of a man. Jax gave her an easy smile in reply.

  “Would you like me to escort you to them, Lady Ci’Dan?” He ascended a few more stairs, holding out a hand.

  She noticed immediately the golden bracer that adorned his wrist. Elecia wondered if he’d managed to start the Golden Guard once more in Baldair’s honor, if he’d created a new charter dedicated to the defense of the whole Imperial family. But she didn’t ask. Her tongue had turned to lead in her mouth.

  “That would be acceptable.” Elecia nodded and took his hand as casually as possible.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, her hand shifted safely to the crook of his elbow. They continued through the palace in silence. Elecia’s stomach felt awkward. Were they going to talk about last winter at all?

  “How are you, ‘Cia?” Jax’s voice shifted from the laughing playboy to the dangerously broken man she knew lived beneath.

  Elecia had grown up in the remnants of Western royalty. From the moment Aldrik and Jax had taken a magical shining to each other after Baldair’s “adoption” of the man, he had been in her life anytime she was near the royal family. He was one of the few people left alive who she would tolerate using her childhood nickname, and it was partly because he knew she would flay him if he used it publicaly.

  “I’m well,” Elecia replied softly. “How are you?”

  “Well enough. The guard here is taking shape nicely once more,” he answered casually.

  Elecia glanced up at him. He had taken to wearing his hair loose and down over his shoulders after she had commented once on how it looked nice. She was surprised to see he still did and prayed to the Mother that he did not cite her as the reason for the change in style.

  “That’s good. It is nice to know that one even as incompetent as yourself can put together a bunch of men and women with swords,” Elecia hummed.

  “I should keep you around more often. Here I was allowing myself to feel proud of my work.” Jax laughed. “You’ll never let me get a big head, will you?”

  “It shall be my duty to bear,” she replied. “How was the East?”

  “Fine.”

  A one word response; how she hated those. Elecia bit her cheeks and kept her questions to herself. The last thing she wanted to seem was eager or worried about what non-work related activities he might have participated in with any men or women.

  From the moment they arrived at the garden, Elecia’s eyes were glued on the fantastic glass gazebo that she had been in awe over since her grandfather had told her why it was built. Its walls were steamed from the heat of the inside reacting to the thick snow falling around it. Elecia could only make out the green blurs that she knew to be rose bushes.

  “Will you tell them for me that lunch will be ready soon?”

  “Why don’t you tell them yourself?” Elecia paused, still under cover from the snow.

  “I’m a guard; I should do so.” Jax grinned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the iron of one side of the gate.

  “You just don’t want to get cold and wet.” Elecia rolled her eyes before trudging into the snow. She mentally ordered herself not to glance at the pair of eyes she felt on her back as she reached the door of the glass structure.

  Warmth hit her the moment she eased open the door and, once she was inside, Elecia shrugged off her cloak. Aldrik was very diligent about the temperature, and she noticed the roses were preparing themselves for another bloom as a result. It wasn’t until she rounded the central pillar she was even certain she was not alone, given that not one sound could be heard.

  Aldrik sat with his arm draped around the woman who napped upon his shoulder. He was dressed in a regal white and gold ensemble, fitting of his station. Elecia had never told Vhalla, but she had always been thankful for whatever the woman had done to make Aldrik show the world that he was their ruler.

  As striking as black looked on him, he needed to dress to his role. His eyes looked up from the book that was in his lap, and a smile crept upon his lips. Her cousin was handsome with his small smiles. Even Elecia could not deny that.

  “My love.” Aldrik rubbed the sleeping woman’s shoulder lightly. “Elecia is here.”

  Vhalla groaned softly, blinking her eyes open. She wore a long golden gown that creatively draped her in Southern classical design. Even the blue ribbon that was just under her growing bust was a nice touch. But no trick of cloth could be used to hide or diminish the massive swell of the Empress’s stomach.

  “Elecia!” Vhalla struggled to sit up. A palm instinctually rested on the curve of her belly. Elecia wondered what made all pregnant women, regardless of age, class, or location, do so. “You finally came! It is so good to see you!”

  “Sit, foolish woman,” Elecia demanded as Vhalla tried to stand to greet her. Aldrik did not even make an effort, his arm fastened to Vhalla’s shoulders.

  “I missed you, too,” Vhalla laughed.

  “All right, let me see what my cousin has inflicted upon you.” Elecia crossed over
to the Empress.

  Aldrik glanced away. Men—at least the good ones—always had a touch of guilt for what they were going to force their women to endure on their children’s behalf. As they should, Elecia believed. It was part of the reason why she insisted every man be present for the birth of their child. Not just for support and to see their offspring, but to ensure they understood what it was that their loved ones went through. It was also a direct way to point out the risk it held for mother and child. The truth was that a birthing room could as easily be the last moments of life rather than the first.

  “She hasn’t allowed any clerics to touch her—”Aldrik began.

  “I didn’t trust them, and I wanted the best,” Vhalla proclaimed as though the fact were obvious.

  “So you said in your letter.” Elecia placed her palms on her hips, looking down at the Empress. “Really, Vhalla, it’s dangerous for a woman to go so long without a cleric taking a look.”

  “It hasn’t been that long.” Vhalla rolled her eyes.

  “When did she start to show?” Elecia turned to the dark-haired man. Hardly anything about him had changed since she had seen him last. It was something Elecia appreciated. Aldrik was consistent. He’d even worn his hair the same length as long as she had known him.

  “Perhaps . . .” Aldrik was lost in thought. His gaze was fixed on Vhalla’s stomach as though it would tell him. “Three months ago?”

  “Three months?” Elecia blinked. “You’re further than I thought then. A spring birth, I’d estimate.”

  “You shouldn’t have taken so long.” Vhalla grinned up at her, and Elecia only offered an unlady-like snort in response. It was adorable when the woman thought she could return Elecia’s humor in kind.

  “I was busy.” Elecia knelt down before the Empress.

  “Were you?” Vhalla asked with an annoying little smile.

  “Are you well?” Aldrik inquired.

  “I am, cousin.” Elecia nodded with a smile just for him and completely ignored Vhalla’s question. “And you both?”

  “We could not be happier,” Aldrik proclaimed boldly, his fingers wrapping around Vhalla’s still resting on the swell of her stomach.