Page 72 of Kiss the Filthiest King

I nod weakly. "Just give me a moment."

"Impossible!" someone hisses.

"She can't be alive."

"She was dead!"

"What is this sorcery?"

I tune them all out.

"Someone poisoned me with something lethal, didn't they?" she mused. "I should be dead."

“Good thing we aren’t that easy to kill, you and I.”

She looks around the stunned faces of the folk, a smile tugging on her lips. “They have an interesting way of dealing with a potential death.”

Almost everyone’s in various state of undress; sweat and other body fluids hangs in the air.

“That would be my fault. I had to…inject your body with life.” I wince at the reminder. “I thought about murdering whoever did this instead, but our friends didn't find the culprit, so there you have it."

With some effort, I sit up, bringing my hand to her cheek.

Then she stands, unprompted, and faces the crowd who still gape, mutter and murmur.

My shadows have completely blocked every window and doors, and they lit lanterns to see by candlelight.

It occurs to me that she's never been more like us than in this moment, disheveled, wild.

"Nice try," she calls out loud, lips quirking. "Now where's my crown?"

* * *

There will doubtfully be many tales and paintings and songs about the coronation of the new queen, with her clothes out of place, her naked court too baffled to speak, as the golden prince places the crown upon her disheveled blue hair.

As she speaks the vow binding her as protector of Ilvaris and high queen of its lords, I slide back from the dais.

“I vow forever night,” Darina proclaims. “To shadow and darkness, to light and fire: I will stand between Ilvaris and any threat, until my death or my release from the crown.”

“And by all the gods, ancient and new, your vow is heard,” Loch recites. “Folk, great and small, do you accept the queen’s pledge?”

All the lords and ladies accept. Reluctant, eager, intrigued, or hateful, they all say the words. So do I. None of us have a choice. Before being recognized as the ruler of any of our court, we’ve all sworn to obey the rightful queen. So surely as her vow ties her to Ilvaris, ours tie us to her.

As soon as the enthused “Aye” leaves my throat, I stride toward my quarry, ignoring the rest of the ceremony: the individual lords making their way to Darina, offering praise, congratulations, and requests.

This is her first instance of holding court. I would have gladly watched every moment, if I didn’t have a pressing matter to address first.

My shadows surround the dainty frame of the pale seelie lady who attempts to discreetly make her way to the back of the room, planning a prompt exit once the doors reopen.

“Not so fast, my friend,” I whisper in her ear as my fingers tighten around her slender shoulders. “You and I need to have a talk.”

Lady Fawn swallows, her fear so thick I can taste it.

“I…I didn’t know. They told me she’d killed my husband. They said I should demand reparation now, in public. It…it made sense. To hurt her while I could. Before the vows. What would you have done?” she cries out, her voice drawing the gaze.

“Yes,” I reply, ever so softly. “And you’d tell me would have hated to see any harm come to my mate if you could, no doubt. Alas, we cannot lie. I only have one question for you. Who arethey?”

Fawn isn’t fond of unnecessary pain, so she tells me, and I reward her with the quick death she’s earned, simply twisting her throat.

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