Page 174 of Golden Queen
"And our weapons are not the kind that can be forged," Boshin added. He meant their language, I realized. That explained the strange feeling in my head when Boshin had only whispered to Tekta in their tongue. The siren's song could be disorienting at the least, and deadly at the worst.
After mutual farewells had been passed between us, the sirens bowed low, their strange transparent fins jutting up from their backs, and then they slid away into the water.
When they were gone, Io knelt beside the box as I shrugged into my shirt. "I thought that box was a bit heavy just to have a sword inside," he said.
I finished buttoning my shirt and went to look. I had placed Sangui gently on the moss where we made our bed, and as I walked away, I noted the way my hand itched to reach back and grip the hilt again.
Io had the white cloth pulled aside, and all I saw in the box was a sea of glittering gold. A suit of shimmering gold, silver, and white enamel armor, finely worked chain mail, scaled pauldrons, gauntlets, and grieves, all with delicate scrollwork and textured relief, was nestled in a sea of gold coins.
The coins were all stamped with the profile of a man with long, wavy hair, a blade sharp nose, and strong jawline. A crown of what looked like seashells sat upon his head. “Is that Vulcan?” I asked, picking up one of the coins. I had not even known the sirens had a king, imagining them as more animal than people.
“Of course,” he replied, not seeming the least surprised by the existence of High King Vulcan. I tried not to let that bother me, but in the end, it only did what it always did. It made me angry that my uncle and the eldermen had kept me so very ignorant of the world around me.
I ran my hands through the coins, listening to the musical tinkling they made striking against each other. And then my hand caught on the edge of something. I reached down to find the edge of a pale gray box made of polished driftwood.
Io helped me dig it out of the coins, and when I had it sitting on top, I knew what was inside. I knew it in my bones—what Vulcan had made for me.
I opened the lid, undoing the little silver clasp. Nestled in the same pristine white velvet, was a crown of stars. It was wrought from crystals set into a silver so pale it was nearly white.
It was not the crown I was expecting. I was expecting gold—perhaps godsgrass. Something fitting for the Queen of Windemere.
Sudden fear seized me at the weight of what was represented in that box. I let the lid fall closed again with a thud that echoed through the chamber.
"What is it?" Io asked. He had not yet seen the crown. I cowardly shoved the box to him so that he could look for himself.
"Holy shit," he said. He met my gaze and saw the dread represented there. He chuckled. "I don't think it'sthecrown of stars, Sera. I think Vulcan meant to honor you with a representation of Danu's crown. I doubt he's trying to place you on the crystal throne."
"But what if it is?" I asked in a pained whisper.
"Are you forgetting Danu's crown was burned with her? The melted silver was used to forge the first of the Elderwood Guardian's chains?"
I hadn’t forgotten that since I had never known it at all.
He reached down to lift the chain around my neck. "You might just be wearing part of that crown now."
I flinched, having never considered that. But I was doubtful that after thousands of years of Artaxian Guardians, the necklace would have been one of the originals. Besides, it looked brand new. It hadn’t had a single scratch or scuff in the metal when Adrio gave it to me.
"Vulcan's siren called you star-born. Have you heard that before?" he asked, studying the little star-crowned heart on the pendant.
It was made like Danu's symbol with the crown perched atop the human heart-shaped cage, but where her crown was always silver, this one was gold. The details were nearly too small to make out, but what I had thought weremessy stars, I realized then may have been stalks of godsgrass woven in among them.
"Adrio also called me star-born," I admitted.
"Star-born was a term people used when a woman became pregnant while her husband was away from home,” he explained. “It was a way to explain away infidelity. You know, don't be angry, dear. This child is born of the stars—a blessing from the gods."
I grimaced. "Well perhaps they all know something I don't about my mother's extracurricular activities." I still disliked voicing the suspicions that had been nagging me since I first allowed myself to admit to the magic in my blood.
My heart thundered, though, as I considered my father's suicide, so soon after my mother's death—and my birth—in a whole new light. Had he known I was not right—that I was not his? Could he not bear to stay there with me...to stay alive for me?
Io looked at me thoughtfully. "I feel like they all know something we don't."
I inwardly shook away the thoughts about my father. They would do nothing to help me in the moment. "I feel like they all have a very misplaced faith in my significance in the grand scheme of the world. It’s very daunting when people pop up from the shadows calling me protector of the eleven realms. What in the hell are the eleven realms, anyway?"
He looked thoughtful again as he counted on his fingers, "Humans, Fae, Dwarves, Elves, Faeries..."
"Elysiuns," I added. "That's five."
"Wyllans, Obeliskana, Moribundan..." Io and I kept naming races of people who lived across the world, but we ended up nearer to thirty than eleven.
