Her lips curled into an approving smile as she adjusted the train of her gown.
“You’re new,” remarked another woman, sliding into the throne at my left, her cloak as black as the night, billowing mysteriously behind her despite the lack of wind, having been woven from shadow, rather than spun from wool. Surely, I was sitting next to Queen Isadora of Adrasea, the Witch Queen. Her skin was a rich sepia and voluminous curls crowned her head.
Her companion, a small-winged lynx, meowed a pleasant greeting at Nix before laying down. The lynx was on the smaller side, her light gray coat speckled with dark brown spots. Her eyes seemed to pierce right through me, the shaggy mane framing her cheeks, giving her an especially dignified appearance.
The queen ran a hand through the lynx’s fur, not bothering to turn her head, as she said, “Look for my letter in the new year. I believe I have something of value to offer you—a gift, to start Adrasea’s relationship with the new Midnight Sovereign off on the right footing.”
“I will,” I replied, wondering what she could mean.
Across from me, the final few thrones filled as the realm’s remaining monarchs made their entrance.
My attention turned toward the stage, wondering how we were meant to know whose turn it was to speak their vows. I had a brief moment of panic, picturing the opportunity passing me by as I stared confusedly at the stage, and I inched my bottom toward the edge of my throne.
Luckily, it wasn’t long before I could lay my apprehension to rest because a light flurry of snow began to fall from the sky above the stage and Archlady Eirwen rose to her feet, approaching the ancient tree stump as her winged snow leopard loyally followed. I guessed it made sense for her to go first; itwasthe Winter Solstice today, after all.
I looked down at Nix, feeling a pang of sadness that the other Dentaria all possessed wings, whereas he’d lost his due to years of trauma.Not anymore,I swore passionately. We would take good care of one another from now on.
When I looked back up, Archlady Eirwen had ascended the stairs and was now standing in the center of the stage, looking out at her audience. She held herself with a calm confidence. “I vow to fulfill my duties as the Archlady of the Winter Court,” she began, the snow falling harder around her body as she started to speak. “Like footprints preserved in the snow, I vow to be accountable to the paths I tread, and the rules governing my land. To keep sacred the time between life and death. To keep sacred the time between silence and speech. Just like winter itself knows when to hush, and when to roar, I will be as tranquil as freshly fallen snow when my subjects require my understanding, and as ferocious as a blizzard when they require my protection. I vow to let the land of the Winter Court sleep and regenerate, tucked into its thick blanket of heavy snowfall and long, dark nights.”
The snow flurry surrounding Archlady Eirwen began to pick up, becoming a swirling vortex, wrapping itself around her, such that we could hear her voice but no longer see her through thestorm. “And finally, I vow to protect the hearth of each and every home residing in the Winter Court, to defend my people’s right to gather close to loved ones in the cold, seeking warmth and kinship, as winter storms rage, with the knowledge that sometimes, it is through adversity that we forge the strongest bonds. These are my vows, to my people and to my land. May I uphold them with honor—or face the consequences.”
As she spoke her final words, the snow vanished, and an amazed gasp escaped my lips.
She was transformed, the wintery chill of magic I’d detected around her earlier now strengthened tenfold. She practically glowed. And for a moment, I thought I saw a thousand delicate, perfect snowflakes hovering over her body before they sank in, saturating her skin. When she returned to her seat at my right, I couldn’t help but shiver, the icy chill of winter trailing in her wake.
And so it went, the remaining Fae courts speaking their vows after Archlady Eirwen. The Spring Court’s turn was heralded by a light rainfall, though Archlord Ailmon’s clothes weren’t soaked when he returned to his throne after speaking elegantly of new beginnings and the land’s rebirth. I committed his appearance to memory—his ivory complexion, his moss-green eyes, his woodland-brown hair. After what happened, I had the feeling I would be visiting the Spring Court soon to tell him his brother lived. I had no idea how he would take the news. Or if he truly believed him to be dead.
When Archlady Annona of the Autumn Court ascended the stage among a flurry of falling leaves, she promised to reap the land’s harvest with care and share its generous bounty with all of her people so that they might prosper from its abundance. I admired the lithe, long-legged body of the black-spotted cat keeping her company.
Then, somehow, it was my turn—and the world went still.
Inky black tendrils painted themselves across the sky as the entire grove darkened into night. A full moon shone overhead, illuminating the stage with pale silvery beams of moonlight. Nix rose solemnly to his feet, waiting for me to move. I looked around the circle, feeling many sets of expectant eyes upon me. My gaze locked on Corvin, and he gave me a subtle, encouraging nod. Hoping nobody could see me tremble, I rose from my throne.
Walking toward the stage, under the watchful stare of the realm’s monarchs, I was never more thankful to have Nix by my side. Somehow, I managed to put one foot in front of the other, then climb the short set of stairs leading up to the stage. As soon as I reached the center of the ancient tree stump, I twirled slowly around, pausing to bask in the moon’s soft glow and allow myself a small moment of awed gratitude for making it to this moment.
Nix joined me on the stage, and I found that when I began to speak, my voice was surprisingly steady. “I vow to fulfill my duties as the Midnight Sovereign,” I started, emulating the introduction of the other monarchs, before finding my own words to continue. “To never let anyone tell me that I don’t have the right to be here, serving this realm.” I took a moment to look around the circle, a soft challenge in my gaze before speaking again. “Though divided, we share the same realm. We live, ultimately, on the same land. I vow to remember that for us all. To be there for every citizen of Olayra, regardless of kingdom, or power, or money, or creed. To be an impartial entity at the center of the realm. I vow I will be a source of support for all those who come to my door, seeking aid and offering a moonstone in good faith. No one will sway me from this purpose, because I do not answer to the monarchies of this realm. The Midnight Sovereign doesn’t bow to royalty.” I paused to give King Filvendor a pointed look.
“I vow to take an apprentice when the time is right, and instruct them on how to fulfill their duties so that my position may continue. And I vow to be laid to rest, when I should pass, within the land of my island.” The moonlight striking the stage intensified, wrapping around me like ribbons, enveloping me completely in its soft white light. I could no longer see my audience. But I could feel the land’s approval, its willingness to consecrate my vows. To make them binding. I finished speaking, choosing my final words carefully. “I vow not to be fooled by the darkness in this realm, but to be a beacon through the night, so that all the people of Olayra may know the moon’s guiding light should they ever find themselves in need of its assistance.”
Moonlight surged all around me. And I understood then. That what I’d called upon before wasn’t true power. No, not like this. Not like the bolt of energy running through me now. I could feel her presence—feel the moon. A newfound, blossoming awareness. And I could tell. Tell that the land had accepted my vows. That I was now, truly and finally, the Midnight Sovereign to the realm. The land recognized me, and its magic rushed to comply, a boon to match the mantle of responsibility thrust upon me. The fatigue that had plagued me since the assassination attempt vanished like it had never been. I felt alive—flush with healing moonlight.
It wrapped around and around and around me until Iwasmoonlight—waxing and waning and waxing again—shining radiantly through the night sky, illuminating every nook and cranny of the ancient grove. I crested over a vast ocean, pulling her tides to my will. I kissed the tops of the trees, blazing through their branches. I enveloped Nix’s body, soothing his many hurts.
And when I was done becoming moonlight—I chose to adorn myself in it still, a silvery gown draping over my body. Moonlight coalesced at my back, fluttering into the shape of delicatebutterfly wings. My skin glowed, just as Archlady Eirwen’s had before me, and I could tell immediately that I would never be the same again after my communion with the land.
When the moonlight began to recede, when my turn to speak had run its course, I saw that Nix had also been transformed, growing into a full-sized jaguar, though he still lacked his wings. Before I left the stage, my eyes landed on King Filvendor. Was that begrudging respect in his eyes? In everyone’s eyes? I returned to my throne, and the sun returned to the grove, though the moonlight I’d called forth to cloak me did not waver nor vanish from sight.
After my vows, the land began to call upon the monarchs of the realm’s six kingdoms.
I listened patiently as King Malgath, summoned by an inferno of flame, spoke of his desire to protect his kingdom, calling the land and its people the greatest treasure anyone could possess, and vowing to treat them as such. Queen Elasha’s vows talked about the importance of respecting one’s ancestors, on utilizing the knowledge and power of those who came before, to build a better kingdom with each passing generation. It didn’t take me by surprise to hear King Cazzon comment on his people’s bond with the phoenix or for Queen Isadora to mention the importance of coven communities. I even listened as King Filvendor gave his vows, a golden stream of sunlight brightening the stage.
Finally, feathers dropped from the sky, and I smiled warmly at Corvin, doing my best to silently communicate my support. Soft murmurs and gasps of awe traveled through the crowd when rather than walk to the stage, Corvin chose to fly, flapping his midnight-black wings, and gliding gracefully through the air to land with a flourish on top of the tree stump. He had perhaps the most captivated audience of any of us, many sets of curious eyes tracking him, extremely interested in learning whythis year, there were ten thrones amongst them, instead of nine, and which kingdom the man with a raven’s wings could possibly represent.
He held himself tall, brimming over with pride, as he announced his kingdom to the realm. “It’s my honor to introduce myself, Prince Ravenell, to you all. And most importantly, my kingdom, to the realm. Zroterra—the crown jewel of the sky, called the Sky Kingdom by its people, floats above you now, traversing the realm. We believe we have much to offer you all, and look forward to establishing diplomatic relations with each and every one of you on the coming year. For a time, as a kingdom of refugees, we were vulnerable. But we have grown in strength and in numbers, and we are not vulnerable anymore.” He looked King Malgath directly in the eyes with the last comment.
“Those who remember the Zrocan may also remember our magic and all it can achieve.” He turned a slow circle, choosing his next words carefully. “I vow to fulfill my duties as the Crown Prince of Zroterra. Above all else, I vow to protect the right of my people to spread their wings in the pursuit of freedom. To hold sacred the central tenant of the Sky Kingdom—that love will always guide you home. Always. I vow to never limit my people, to never tell them they’re soaring too high, to always encourage them to reach for their dreams. To believe in my kingdom’s potential. I vow to welcome those who come to us on bruised or broken wings. To extend a second chance, an opportunity for a new life, to those who come to call our kingdom home.” Corvin disappeared in a whirl of swirling feathers, his last words ringing out clearly for all to hear, “I vow to spread my wings in service to my people and to our land in the sky, which makes our kingdom possible.” When he emerged again, his wings were sparkling, as if each individual feather had been consecrated by the land.
Although I didn’t want to leave the grove or this moment behind, I recognized it was time to leave as the same gateway by which I’d initially entered the grove, appeared behind my throne. The same happened all along the circle, monarchs rising to depart one by one, some quickly, some after another quiet moment of reflection.
