Page 99 of Of Song and Scepter
Enna and I ascend the steps, coming to a stop before my mother. She greets us with a smile, looking first to Enna and then to me. She begins the ritual, lifting the two smaller jars, each filled with sand. “The one on the left represents Enna,” she says, projecting her voice to fill the room. Enna’s sand is blackand coarse, reminiscent of the Abyss. The jar of smooth white sand is mine.
“A reminder that we all are from the sand, and to the sand we will return.” She holds the jars above her head, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. Her lips move as she begins to Voice the ancient ritual, calling on the gods to bless our union.
Her song is low and urgent, matching the quickening pace of my heart. A presence trails its icy claw up my spine, and I shiver. Black mist hisses out of my mother’s mouth, pouring into the room. She continues to incant until the entire dais is covered in a thick black cloud.
Ending the spell, her eyes flash open, and she lowers the jars of sand, handing one to each of us.
Together, we lift them, pouring the contents to mix together in the ancestral vessel. They form a speckled pattern as we empty them into the container. When the last of the sand falls from our jars, my mother reaches for our hands.
She places Enna’s hand in mine—rough, scarred. I brush my thumb along the top of her knuckles, and she glances at me—my personal devil. My Wicked.
“Repeat the words of the ritual,” my mother says. “To the sand we belong, and to the sand we return.”
We repeat the words in unison as my mother wraps a thick, satin ribbon around our wrists. Enna’s fingers slip into mine, and I squeeze them, relishing the touch.
“By the power of the gods, I pronounce you joined as one. Kneel to accept these crowns as a symbol of your devotion.”
We sink to the floor, settling onto our knees. The bulb of the scepter touches my left, then my right shoulder, and my mother places a crown on my head, then on Enna's. The metal is cold and heavy, and my scalp tingles at the new weight.
My mother grasps our bound wrists, lifting them high for the crowd to witness. The crowd whispers in excitement, voices rustling like the hush of wind through reedgrass.
“Kingdom of Coral, rise and greet your Crown!”
Then the crowd erupts into applause, and a band begins to play a sweet, happy tune. Rose petals shower the dais.
A petal has caught in Enna’s hair, delicate pink against her sharp features. She rolls her eyes at it, juts her lip out, and attempts to blow it away with a poorly aimed puff of air. It’s the most normal thing I’ve seen her do, and my stomach flutters.
“Does Her Majesty require assistance?” I say.
“Only if the king is willing,” she whispers.
I reach for her, brushing the crest of her cheek, her temple, her forehead, before plucking the petal free.
Her lips match the color of the roses, pink and plump. She parts them under my gaze, and her eyes flood with need. I lean in, inhaling the raw scent of her—a blend of darkness and sunlight—and capture the lips of my queen.
Chapter sixty-four
Enna
The sand is coolunder my feet, lit by the moon. Stars stretch and curl behind Audrina in colorful swaths. A wisp of cloud covers the moon’s face, the only disruption to an otherwise brilliant, perfect sky.
I’m reminded of my old home in the Drink—the pricks of light against vast nothingness, small bioluminescent shapes hanging in a black sea. I cannot chase the stars or snap at them with my teeth, but I can watch them endlessly, and if I stare long enough, maybe they’ll move.
And maybe, if I stare long enough, the feelings from today’s events will sort themselves out.Queen of Coral.I still can’t believe it. Me. This morning, I woke as a death-dealer; tonight, I’ll sleep as a queen. It’s more than any half-blood from Vespyr could have dreamed.
High tide has shortened the beach, leaving me a few paces of sand on either side as I circumnavigate the keep’s walls. The boulders where we first fucked jut out of the surf now, like smooth molars cresting through the dark gums of the sea. On top of the largest boulder reclines a male shape, his green tail hanging lazily in the foam to keep from shifting. My heart quickens at the sight of him—my husband, my king.
A rogue wave crashes over the rock, spraying him in silver beads of water. His hair drips across his face, water slipping down the strong line of his jaw, the scaled expanse of his chest, before tracing the delicate path my fingers ache to follow.
I dive into the surf, paddling out to meet him. The water holds a touch of chill tonight, the cold season beginning to dip and stir its fingers in the reef. At last, a break from the heat.
A rough knob juts out of the rock, and I grab hold as I tread the waves, eyeing the flick of his tail. In a glittering arc, I spit the seawater from my mouth, spraying Soren’s tail.
“For someone who wanted a midnight swim, you are much too grounded,” I tease.
Soren’s teeth flash in a white smile, catching in the light of the moon. “Is that a challenge?” His muscles flex as he slips into the waves, shoulders rolling, his back a perfect arc. The tip of his tail flicks as it submerges in the waves.
Smiling, I sink beneath the surface, and open my eyes to the colors of the reef. Soren paddles backward, watching me with sparkling eyes. The strong curve of his tail ripples with power.
