by Kiera Cass
She sighed in relief. “Well, that’s good. And we’ll be leaving soon after, anyway.”
I dropped my hands. “What?”
Delia Grace and Nora went through the moves, though their eyes were decidedly fixed on us. Scarlet looked at their curious faces before turning back to me.
“I . . . I told you,” she began quietly. “That was always the plan. We want to live a quiet life, a life that belongs to us. Finally.” She breathed the last word as if she were very tired. “Since we arrived, we’ve been making inquiries for property, and we’ve found a manor with good lands out in the country. We’ve been receiving commissions for work, and it looks like we’d be able to support ourselves, with or without income from the land. We’re leaving.”
I clutched my hands in front of me and worked to pull a smile to my face. “Valentina made me aware of how . . . strenuous court life in Isolte can be. It’s no wonder you long for the peace of the country. How lucky am I to get to show you off at least once before you go? Come, let’s finish our practice.”
I was exhausted, unable to put anything into the dance beyond the basic moves. And once we finished, I wordlessly walked through my apartments to the back rooms. I’d never done anything like that before, and everyone was wise enough to understand that meant I didn’t want to be followed.
Settling in on a seat beneath a window, I looked out over the river, over the sprawling city, to the plains in the distance as far as my eyes would reach. Somewhere past that line, the Eastoffes would make their home. I told myself this was a good thing. If Silas left, it would remove all temptation to speak to him, to ruin the brightest thing in my life. It would make it so much easier to see Jameson anew, to remember how he loved to lavish me with gifts and affection.
This was someone removing my shoe and taking the pebble out; I would walk steadier from here on out.
So it made no sense that I sat there, taking in the best view the palace could offer, crying until my tears ran dry.
Twenty-Four
WHEN I WOKE UP ON Crowning Day, it didn’t feel like it usually did. It was so very average. Plain weather, plain sun, plain me.
“Hollis,” Delia Grace said quietly, pulling back the curtains on my poster bed. “You have a delivery.”
“What?”
“My guess is it’s for tonight. No ordinary old headdress would do for you, would it?” she said, a pang of longing bleeding into her voice. With a sad but resolute smile, she held out a hand to help me from the bed.
“Have you opened the box yet?”
She shook her head. “It’s only just arrived, and we’d never open something for you, my lady.”
I gave her a weak smile. “Very well.” She held out a robe, and I stepped into it. “Let’s go take a look,” I said as I marched over and opened the box.
The sight of three perfect crowns set in black velvet was enough to leave me breathless. I ran my fingers over them, taking in how unique they were. The first was mostly gold and looked similar to the Crown of Estus, while the other two were much more bejeweled. The second was primarily covered in rubies that suited Coroan red, and the final was much more pointed and covered in diamonds.
“The third is my favorite,” Nora insisted. “But you’d look stunning in any of them.”
“What do you think, Hollis?” Delia Grace asked. “The first one looks like—”
“The Crown of Estus,” I finished. “I thought that, too.”
“You’d match. That sends a message.”
It certainly would. But I smiled to myself, remembering an old conversation with Silas. There was a language to our clothes, our choices, one others could choose to listen to or ignore.
“I won’t be wearing any of these. Don’t send them back, though,” I ordered. “I want my choice to be a surprise.”
“The jealous side of me is reluctant to admit this,” Delia Grace began, “but I think you may stop hearts tonight.”
“Do you like it?”
“It suits you. Better than any of those stuffy crowns would have, for sure.” She moved beside me to look in the mirror, and I couldn’t help but think she was right; this was me.
Silas had once made a joke about me belonging in a crown of flowers, and now I was wearing the biggest and most fragrant blooms I could find atop my head. I’d even managed to stick a few pins with jewels on it to hold it to my hair, and they caught the light, making it all the more special.
I didn’t think I’d ever love a crown as much as this one, and I’d only be able to wear it once.
Beside me, I could see Delia Grace’s shoulders sinking. She, too, had flowers in her hair, though none quite so dazzling as mine. It was yet another instance where Delia Grace was forced to accept having things one step below mine. I thought it must really be bothering her now, in the moment she had to accept her hopes for the crown were truly over.
“I need you to know,” I said, “that if your plan had worked, if it had been you, I’d have done my absolute best to attend you. Though I don’t think anyone could have done what you have in these last few weeks. Honestly, Delia Grace, I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
She rested her head against mine. “Just wrap Lord Farrow up in a nice big ribbon, and that’ll do.”
I giggled. “Absolutely. If I can, I’ll see that you are married before I am.”
“You will?”
“You’ve spent a long time waiting for things to happen. So long as you’re pleased with him, I can’t see a reason to wait.”
She crushed me in a hug, her eyes welling up. I hadn’t seen her cry since we were thirteen, after a particularly terrible bout of being teased. She vowed after that no one would see her cry again. If she’d ever so much as let a tear slip, I never knew about it.
The moment was broken by Mother marching through the door, still refusing to knock.
“What in the world are you wearing?”
My face fell instantly. “What’s wrong?” I looked back at the mirror, turning to take in every angle.
“Take those flowers off your head. You’re a lady; you need to be wearing a proper crown for Crowning Day.” She pointed to her own head, where she was wearing a small crown that had been passed down through the generations of the Parth family. It was not so grand as the one she’d lost, but it was old, and that would do.
I sighed. “Oh, is that all? I chose these on purpose.”
“Well, take them off on purpose.” She walked back to the receiving area, knowing exactly what was in the box on my table. “King Jameson sent you perfectly gorgeous crowns. Just look at this!” she said, holding up the one encrusted with rubies.
“It’s beautiful, Mother. But it’s not for me.”
She set it back down. “No, no. Come and look again. The lords won’t like this at all.” She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me over to the box.
“I don’t care what they think of me.” And I didn’t say it, but I didn’t care much what Jameson thought, either.
“You should. The king needs them, and you need the king.”
“No, I don’t. I just can’t do—”
“Hollis, you will listen to me!”
I took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look into my eyes and speaking with a calm, steady voice. “I know exactly who I am. And I’m content with it.” I touched her cheek. “You’re my mother. I wish you could be content with me, too.”
Her eyes darted all around my face as if she were seeing me, truly seeing me, for the very first time. Maybe I only imagined the tears in her eyes, but her tone was much softer when she finally answered me.
“I suppose they look right on you. Oh . . . are there jewels in there, too?”
“Yes! Do you like them?” I did a turn so they could all catch the light.
She nodded, a whisper of a smile on her face. “Yes, I think I do.”
Delia Grace clapped her hands. “Come on, ladies. We can’t have our future queen arriving late.”
“Are you staying w
ith me or going with Father?” I asked.
Mother still looked stunned. “I’ll be with your father. But we’ll see you in there.”
I nodded as she made her way from the room, and I turned to make sure my dress was straight.
“We are ready when you are, my lady,” Delia Grace said. And with a nod, I marched us toward the Great Room.
The feeling of entering the hall on Crowning Day was similar to that of the day King Quinten had come, with so many people sighing and staring as I sauntered past. I did feel beautiful tonight, the most like myself I had in ages. I think it showed.
I made my way to the front of the room, as I knew Jameson would expect me there for the ceremony. I supposed most kings didn’t have their fathers present for their own Crowning Days, but he also had no mother, no siblings. He was the last of his line until he produced heirs, and that was all dependent upon me. I made sure to stand where his family would have been if they could have been here. Maybe it didn’t quite feel that way yet, like we were family . . . but we would be soon.
Tonight, Jameson would be symbolically recrowned with the same ancient crown used on Estus. The nobles who had their own crowns were wearing them, and most women were bedecked with jewels to mimic the appearance. After a short ceremony, we would celebrate with dancing. It was easily the most exciting night of the year because it didn’t end until dawn. Crowning Day had its roots in something very sacred, but it was more like a free-for-all for as long as I’d been alive. Of course Jameson would want to propose today; it forced the entire country to celebrate it, too, whether they intended to or not.
The trumpets played, and I pushed my cynicisms aside, ready to be as queenlike as I could.
A hush fell over the room as the boys in red robes came out ringing their bells. Jameson followed, wearing a heavy fur robe that trailed ten feet behind him. He was followed by the holy man who was gingerly holding the Crown of Estus.
The boys parted, and Jameson walked up the center aisle they created, taking a seat on the throne. The holy man stopped at the base of the throne, holding the crown aloft. In perfect unison, the bells stopped.
“People of Coroa,” the holy man intoned, “let us rejoice. For one hundred and sixty-two years, we have had one faithful ruler, a descendant of Estus the Great. Today we honor King Jameson Cadius Barclay, son of Marcellus, son of Telau, son of Shane, son of Presley, son of Klaus, son of Leeson, son of Estus.
“Above all people, we are the happiest, for we celebrate a long and happy reign of the most powerful family on the continent. Let us today renew our devotion to King Jameson and pray for his life to extend for many years, and for his heirs to be plenty.”
“Amen!” the room chanted as Jameson looked ever so slightly to his right, knowing I would be there.
The holy man set the crown upon his head, and the room erupted in applause. Once that was done, Jameson smiled at the holy man, murmuring words of thanks before standing and raising his hands to silence the room.
“Good people, I thank you for trusting me to lead you. I know I am a young king, and my reign to date is short. But above any king on the continent, I am devoted to your happiness and the peace of our land. I pray for our kingdom to prosper. I will continue living my life for our country, which is growing not only as our own people make their families, but as others choose to join us,” he said, gesturing to the back of the room. I followed his hand, and many of the families who’d come from neighboring countries were gathered together there, including the Eastoffes.
“And for tonight, that is certainly a reason to celebrate!” he cried. “Music!” And the people cheered, and the musicians began to play.
And while the lords enveloped the king, I stared at the back of the room.
Twenty-Five
MY EYES STAYED LOCKED WITH Silas Eastoffe’s as the room swirled to life around us. I’d seen him dressed in his best before, but he seemed particularly handsome tonight. The Eastoffes, understanding the occasion, were wearing crowns of their own, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they were heirlooms of their long family lines or creations they’d made themselves.
Around me, people embraced and complimented each other’s gowns. People cheered, already managing to find large cups of ale to toast the king, the country, the night . . . anything, really. But my eyes were only for Silas, and his were for me. He swallowed, looking outwardly how I felt inwardly: decimated with longing for something I could not have.
“Hollis!” I finally snapped at Delia Grace calling my name. “There you are. We’ve been looking for you.”
Had I moved? How much time had passed?
“The king is asking for you,” she said pointedly.
I took some deep breaths, trying to bring myself back to my senses. “Yes, of course. Lead the way, won’t you?”
I slipped my hand into Delia Grace’s, and she walked me to the front of the room. I could feel her eyes coming back to me, inspecting. She knew my reservations, of course, and I sensed she could tell there was something more happening. There were so many people around us that she didn’t dare ask, but instead faithfully delivered me to Jameson.
“You are perfection brought to life,” the king said, holding out his arms to greet me. I noted the chalice in his hand, amber ale spilling from one side. “I absolutely love the flowers. Are they glittering?”
“Yes.”
“Amazing. Lord Allinghan, did you see sweet Hollis’s flowers? Aren’t they beautiful?” He didn’t wait for an answer but lowered his voice to continue talking to me. “We’ll have to do this for the wedding. Don’t you think?” His tone was higher than I’d ever heard it before, trilling into a frenzy.
“You are giddy, my lord.”
He laughed wildly. “I am! Ah, I’m having the best of days. Aren’t you?”
My lips may have been trembling when I answered. “Every day is the best one I’ve had until I meet tomorrow.”
He gracelessly brushed my hair back. “For you, I believe that’s true. So beautiful. You will look so lovely with your face printed on a coin, don’t you think? I’ve decided you will be on a coin, by the way. Are you well? You seem out of sorts.”
I couldn’t guess how my face looked, but it clearly wasn’t as happy as he was expecting. “Perhaps it’s the heat. Might I step outside for a moment? Catch my breath?”
“Of course.” He bent to kiss my cheek. “Come back soon. I want everyone to see you. And”—he chuckled, the sound coming across ever so slightly mad—“I have an announcement when you get back.”
I nodded, thankful for the many lords who always clung to the king like bees to honey. It made it easy to turn and run. I must have looked ridiculous, dodging elbows and weaving through couples, but it felt like my lungs were about to burst and I had to—had to—get out of that room. I wasn’t sure where to go. My ladies would find me in my rooms, or even my parents’ quarters. I could wander the castle, but there were still too many people here, with nobles coming into the palace just to be present for this feast. I turned then, making my way to the side entrance where dozens of carriages were waiting to take their masters home once the festivities had died out. I propped myself up against the side of one such carriage and allowed myself to cry.
I told myself to get it all out now. Jameson would expect smiles when I returned, smiles for the rest of my life. But how would I ever stop crying, knowing I was going to marry one man while ignoring the distinct calling of my heart toward another?
“Hollis?”
I turned and saw, under the light of all the torches, that Silas was hiding out here, too, and that he had been crying as well. We looked at each other for a moment, both shocked and amused, and then laughed to find one another out here.
I wiped at my eyes as he did the same. “I’m a bit overwhelmed by the celebration,” I lied.
“As am I.” He pointed up. “A flower crown.”
I shrugged. “You’re leaving soon. I thought . . . I thought this might be the way you want to rem
ember me.”
“Hollis—” He broke his words off with a shudder, looking as if he was building up courage. “Hollis, even in the night, you are still my sun, bringing light to my world.”
I was so thankful for this brief moment of privacy. “I hope you and your family finally find peace. And know you will always have a friend at court, should you ever have need.”
He stared at me for a long time before reaching into his pocket. “I made you something,” he said, unfolding a piece of fabric.
“Not a sword?”
There was a small chuckle. “One day. But for now, I thought this would be fitting.”
He pulled out a broach with a huge golden stone that glimmered in the firelight.
“What is that?”
“It’s called a citrine. If you, Hollis Brite, were a star, you’d be the sun. If you were a bird, you’d be a canary. And if you were a stone, you’d be a citrine.”
I looked at the gem, unable to wipe the smile from my face. It shone even in the darkness, with tiny pears surrounding the base of the whole stone, all set in gold.
“May I?”
I nodded.
He reached up, taking the bodice of my dress in his hands, the backs of his fingers against my skin. “I wish I could give you so much more.”
“Please don’t go,” I whispered even though we were alone. “At least stay at the castle so I can talk to you from time to time. The king doesn’t want me to speak or to think or, perhaps, even to care. I don’t want to be an ornament with no one to turn to.”
“I have to go with my family,” he vowed. “We’re stronger when we’re together, and, though I’m sure I will ache for you until I die, I could never live with myself if I abandoned them.”
I nodded. “And I could never live with myself if I was the cause for you abandoning them.”
He brought his lips close and spoke in whispers, raking his fingers through my hair. “Come with us,” he pleaded. “I would love you without condition. I cannot offer you a palace or a title, but I can offer you a home where you will be treasured for exactly who you are.”
