Page 10 of A Crown So Cursed
Nothing about her stirs my passion
I do not thrill over the thought of progeny borne of her womb.
The weight of the moment is lost to no one.
“I have…at last…chosen…yourqueen.”
Theirs, not mine.I pause, drawing a breath to steel myself for the words to come…words that will forever seal my fate. Indeed, if for us words are binding, vows are indissoluble. Once betrothed, our destinies will be inextricably bound, and the only thing that may free me is death—hers or mine. The only reason I am free to choose again is that, by making herself a changeling, Gwendolyn broke our bond. It matters not that I’ve shared with her my essence. As a mortal, she will never be my soulmate, no matter how much I wish it.
Anticipation churns through the air like a storm on the verge of breaking.
The court waits in silence, eager to devour my words.
Even the Faerie Flames freeze in their dance.
“I choose?—”
The doors to the hall burst wide with a resounding smash, and a collective gasp reverberates through the gathered.
My head whips about.
I feelherbefore I see her.
Gwendolyn.
Standing in the entrance of my hall, her presence commands the attention of every creature within, including mine—most decidedly mine.
Blink, I command myself.
Can it be?
Gods. Nay…
The jolt of seeing her again after so long strikes me like a bolt of lightning, leaving me momentarily mute, and my mind a tempest of emotions.
Lovely as ever, she stands poised at the threshold, her fiery tresses cascading about her shoulders like a torrent of fire. Her gray eyes sparkle with a touch of defiance, and her gaze finds me, provoking a surge of emotions so powerful I stagger slightly where I stand.
But in the space of that eternal moment, as our eyes meet, my heart pounds, and my blood sings. She smiles, and the sight of it robs me of my breath.
Dressed plainly compared to the denizens of my court, the lack of ornamentation only serves to enhance her natural beauty. Her eyes, stormy as ever, but driven, scan the gathered nobility, holding everyone—including me—enthralled.
“Pardon,” she says.
No one replies.
Not even me.
At long last, she has come, and I am as inept as a babe, unable to speak, even to reassure her, or even to greet her.
“I…seek…an audience…with…your king,” she says haltingly, speaking at large to my court, while her gaze is fixed on mine. All eyes turn to me, awaiting my response—to oust her from this hall, no doubt. But there is one thing I know as surely as I breathe…I will not.
“Approach,” I say, then wince, because I am a mindless cretin—undone by the mere sight of her. My voice, when it escapes, is harsher than it needs to be to cover my awkwardness.
She lifts her chin, at once complying, crossing the hall, parting my courtiers like the queen she is, and I can’t help but grin—the first genuine expression of joy in all the years since we parted.
The court hums, the sound rising like a tide of discontent. I pay them no heed, all my attention focused on this woman who’d once dared stand up, not only to me and that foolish mortal she’d once wed, but to Aengus as well.
Indeed, the last time she stood in this very hall, Aengus’ head found itself at my feet…and now she advances with the same fearless resolve. Every step echoes across the polished stone floor, resonating within my body, and returning a measure of life to my once-dead heart.
