by East, Evie
“What’s your suggestion, Emilia?” Carter’s eyes have gone so dark, I hardly recognize him. “Let me guess — forget this ever happened? Go back to being enemies?” He snorts. “‘Cause that worked really fucking well for us the last time we tried, didn’t it? Two weeks of space, then a quick screw on a workbench during your bloody coronation!”
My spine snaps straight. “A quick screw. Was that all this was to you?”
“You tell me, Emilia.” He leans in, gaze trapping mine. “What was this? A beginning or an ending?”
“I don’t know, all right? This wasn’t supposed to happen. God…” I shake my head, feeling my emotions unravel. Confusion, despair, and longing are tearing at me with violent talons. I want nothing more than to take those three steps forward, to throw myself into the circle of his arms and bury my head against his chest. But losing myself in him won’t solve a damn thing. In fact…
Losing myself in him is exactly why we’re in this mess.
“Carter,” I say in a broken voice. “Please…”
“Please what, princess?”
“You know that if things were different—”
“But they’re not,” he says flatly, expression shuttering into a callous mask I recognize all too well.
“No. They’re not,” I echo, wondering how things got so turned around so incredibly fast.
Five minutes ago, I was in his arms.
Now, we can barely look at each other.
“Go on then, Your Highness.” He jerks his chin toward the doors. “Back to your precious party.”
“Carter—”
“Go.”
I flinch at the coldness in his voice. Before the tears start flowing, I steel my shoulders, straighten my ballgown, and walk out the door, back into the bitter night.
* * *
The party feels garish and gaudy, too loud and too bright after the poignant passion of the dark greenhouse. I float through the crowd, face set in a frigid mask, nodding hello to people as I pass. Chloe tries to wave me over from a table in the corner, but I avoid her eyes. I know she’ll see instantly that something is wrong, and press me for details. I’m so dazed, I don’t notice Linus and Octavia until I’ve nearly bumped straight into them.
“Emilia,” my father says, scanning my flushed face and messy hair. “Are you all right?”
I nod. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We’ve been looking for you for the past twenty minutes,” Octavia snaps. “We need you on the platform for the champagne toast.”
“Sorry,” I murmur halfheartedly. I can’t seem to summon the energy to care about anything, at the moment. Especially not Octavia’s petty problems.
She stomps toward the small dais. Linus and I trail in her wake.
“I’m sorry about my wife,” he murmurs, too low for her to hear. “She wasn’t always so uptight about punctuality.”
“I think it has less to do with me being late than it does me, in general.” I sigh. “Everything I do seems to displease her. I swear, I’m not even trying.”
We lapse into a short silence. Just before we ascend onto the small stage, where a platter bearing three crystal champagne flutes waits, he meets my eyes.
“The sooner you let go of the idea that you can please everyone, the better off you will be, Emilia. This life we live… it’s not about contentment. Progress rarely comes about with any sort of peace of mind. And, as you’ll soon learn… real royalty isn’t about achieving that much-lauded happily ever after. It’s about duty and obligation to something larger than yourself. To crown and country.”
I swallow hard, unable to retort.
“After you,” he murmurs, gesturing me toward the stairs.
In silence, I take my place beside Octavia on the platform. Linus steps between us to address the crowd. My eyes scan the sea of faces, looking for Carter, but I don’t see him anywhere.
“Thank you all for coming here tonight, to celebrate this occasion. It has been a dark time for Germania. We have suffered tremendous losses, the likes of which we will struggle for years to recover from. But we cannot abandon faith. We cannot lose ourselves in the darkness. Now, more than ever, we must band together. A united front. A unified kingdom.” He reaches out and plucks two of the champagne glasses from the tray. Passing one to me and the other to Octavia, he takes the final flute for himself and lifts it into the air.
“Non sibi sed patriae,” he calls, voice ringing out with hope and strength. “Not for self, but country. May we all strive to embody that core Germanian value each day, as we move forward into a bright future.”
He takes a hearty gulp of his champagne. As is customary, the rest of the hall waits for him to finish his sip before joining.
“Non sibi sed patriae,” we all echo, as he lowers his glass. “Long live King Linus! Long live King Linus! Long live King Linus!”
The chant goes on for quite some time, until he waves to signal quiet. His flute raises again. “Thank you, my friends. Now, let us join in a drink, not as king and subject, but as friends.”
More cheers break out as the crowd sips their champagne. I lift my own flute to my lips, but pause when I hear a strangled sound from Linus. Wide-eyed, I glance over and see his face turning a deep, mottled purple color. Foam is gathering at one corner of his mouth.
“Linus? Oh, god, Linus!”
The flute drops from his hand, glass shattering on impact. He claws at his throat, suddenly desperate for oxygen as his windpipe swells shut. It’s as though he’s choking on thin air. All I can do is watch as his body crumples to the dais like a rag doll.
“HELP!” I scream, falling to my knees beside him, my flute abandoned. I stare down in horror, wishing I knew what to do. “PLEASE HELP US!”
Octavia is wailing something from his other side, but I pay her no mind. I look into my father’s face, grabbing his hand tight inside my own.
“Hang on,” I whisper. “Just hang on. Do you hear me? Help is coming.”
But even as I tell him to stay strong, the light is beginning to fade from his eyes. The white froth at his mouth is thicker now, tinged pink with flecks of blood as it dribbles down his chin to pool on the platform beneath us.
No.
No, no, no.
A tear falls from my eyes down onto his face.
“You cannot die,” I forbid him, voice breaking. “The kingdom needs you.” I suck in a breath. “I need you. I’m not ready to do this without you. Do you hear me, Linus? Do you hear me, Dad?”
His chest rattles.
His lids close.
His jaw slackens.
And in the space of a breath…
In the length of a heartbeat…
In the blink of a deep green eye…
A crown changes hands once more.
* * *
THE END
…for now.
* * *
My dear reader,
*Adele voice*
Hellooooo from the other sideeee!
Thank you so much for reading. There are literally millions of other books out there you could’ve spent your last few hours immersed in, so I am deeply touched you chose to pick up mine. I sincerely hope you enjoyed the first installment of Emilia’s story!
Don’t miss TORRID THRONE, the sequel to DIRTY HALO, coming September 18, 2018.
Pre-order it here for just $2.99!
PS: If you enjoyed this book, please take a minute to leave a review on your favorite e-retailer. xx
Non sibi sed patriae,
Evie
* * *
Playlist
Castle — Halsey
Royals — Lorde
Young and Beautiful — Lana Del Rey
King and Lionheart — Of Monsters and Men
Kingdom Fall — Claire Wyndham
Light Me Up — Ingrid Michaelson
Listen — Claire Guerreso
Everybody Wants to Rule the World — Lorde
Arsonist’s Lullaby — Hozier
> Leave the Door Wide Open — Black English
Don’t You Cry For Me — Cobi
Half Light — BANNERS
Beggin For Thread — BANKS
Halo — Ane Brun (feat. Linnea Olsson)
Call It What You Want — Taylor Swift
About the Author
EVIE EAST hates many things -- including cats, weak coffee, people who don't use their directionals while driving, and writing bios about herself in the third person. Her full name is Genevieve, but no one calls her that. (Seriously. Don't call her that. She won't answer.) Like any true bookworm, she enjoys fictional people more than real ones. Evie resides in New England and firmly believes it is the best place on earth.
She is currently at work on TORRID THRONE, a sequel to DIRTY HALO. Look for it Fall 2018.
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