Page 11 of Crownless Heirs

Maelan nodded, turning toward the far side of the glade. She watched him walk to the trees and lean against one, catching silver blossoms from the air. He cradled each one before letting the wind carry them away. Sorcha turned from him and moved to the opposite tree, pressing her palm against the bark. It was smooth and cold. She leaned into it gently, resting her forehead there.

What would this mean back home? What would it mean for the Circle? They would try to understand. Kyron wouldn’t. Not at first. Maybe never. And Nethran, he had been like a father to her. What would he say if he could see her now? Would he approve of this? Sorcha closed her eyes.

“I wish I had someone to help me decide,” she murmured to the tree.

The wind rustled the branches, and blossoms drifted down, yet the tree remained silent. Still, she lingered, her forehead pressed against the rough bark, allowing the quiet to envelop her. Her thoughts turned to her father, and a wave of sadness washed over her as she realized he wouldn’t be there to walk her down the aisle. Likewise, her mother wouldn’t be there to help her get dressed, cradle her face in her hands, or whisper words of encouragement for what lay ahead. They were gone, and so this momentous decision, this pivotal moment, rested solely on her shoulders.

A tear traced a path down her cheek, landing on the bark. Where it touched, the willow seemed to shimmer, as if a bolt of lightning had found nowhere to strike; the luminescence spread through the tree’s veins before vanishing. Quickly wiping her face, she forced down the lump in her throat. She realized then that what others thought no longer mattered. If her parents were here, they would surely tell her to follow her heart, and she knew the Circle would stand behind any choice she made. This was her choice, and she felt a deep certainty that she was making the right decision. Turning with newfound resolve, she walked towards Maelan.

Sorcha declared, “If we proceed with this, I won’t simply be a name on parchment. I won’t relinquish the title once this is done.”

Maelan paused before responding, “You want to stay married?”

Sorcha nodded, stating, “If I marry you, I’ll stay queen.”

His expression shifted to surprised approval, and then he grinned, “Now that’s the answer I was hoping for.”

Sorcha let out a quiet laugh, “Of course you were, but I need to know more. What kind of power will I have as queen?”

Maelan eyed Sorcha for a long while, a lingering curiosity on his face. He then explained, “You’d have as much power as I do. The armies would be in your control, and you’d have the power to change laws…” His voice trailed off, leaving Sorcha wanting to know more.

Sensing he was holding back information and not taking kindly to it, she pressed, “You’re not telling me everything. I can see it plain as the stars above, Maelan. There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

Maelan mused over her words, appearing to think long and hard about his next response. However, Sorcha wasn’t waiting for his polite reply.

“Maelan, just tell me,” she urged.

Maelan fidgeted with his sleeves, his eyes darting away as he began, “If, and I really mean if, there ever comes a time when I’m not by your side in the kingdom, then anyone could challenge for the throne, unless...”

“Unless what?” Sorcha interrupted, her tone sharp with impatience.

“Unless there’s an heir,” he finally admitted.

Sorcha’s mind reeled at the implications. “So, you’re saying that if we’re not together, if you were to die or if I were to be alone, anyone could challenge for it, unless we have a child.”

This meant she had to win over the kingdom, Maelan’s armies included, if she ever hoped to live freely among them.

“You’ll never have to worry about that,” Maelan quickly reassured her.

Sorcha stood lost in thought for a long time, her gaze distant, as if seeing something far beyond the landscape before them. To Maelan, that silence was an eternity. When she finally turned back to him, she expected to see the calculated guardian who had stood before her moments ago. Instead, she found him drowning in terror. It wasn’t the kind of fear of what lurked in the darkness, but the kind that grips the heart when a person is about to lose what they treasure most. He stood tracking her face, utterly powerless to stop her from walking away. The sight broke something deep within her, and she never wanted to see that look on his face again.

“Yes,” she finally said.

“Are you saying yes to the marriage?” Maelan asked, his voice shaky.

Sorcha hesitated for a few moments before repeating, “Yes.”

She was acting for her realm, for survival, and for power, but most importantly, she yearned to belong. This belonging wasn’t to him, but rather to this place, to the veil, and ultimately, to herself. It was a matter of choosing who she would become.

Maelan extended a hand, the terror in his eyes faded away. “Shall we seal it with a kiss?”

Sorcha snorted. “Not a chance.”

She turned, stepping away, but the way he was watching her, so calm, so sure, it irked her. He was too confident.

Her brow furrowed, a realization crashing over her.

“Wait, a minute.”