Page 64 of Crown of the Dunes

Dravis bent and set the crown on the stone before me, the metallic clang ringing out louder than it should in the hush that fell over the courtyard. My heart pounded against my ribcage as he straightened and turned toward the crowd.

“I will not place the crown on the head of a one who did not fairly win the right to wear it,” he announced. While he projected his words loud enough for the assembled to hear, a slight tremor wove its way into the last syllable. My neck prickled even as horror flooded my veins. The worst was coming to pass.

A few shouts of protest ran through the crowd, but instead, my ears focused on the quiet murmurs of agreement that rose in a subtler but much more insidious wave. My skin burned and my throat seemed to seal itself shut as my brain raced.

I wanted to rage at him, to force Dravis to put the crown on my head, after all I had sacrificed for these people, but I found myself all but frozen. Because I feared he was right—I had lost the right to the Champion’s circlet in an uncontained burst of power during the last fight of the Trials. An uncontrolled outburst like that from a queen could cost this city everything.

I raised my head to look at the crowd, but all I saw were my parents’ faces, looking at me in fear and distaste as they rode away with my clan, leaving me to rot. This time, I was not facing the rejection of two people, but hundreds, in the one place I was supposed to be able to find a home.

The mixed shouts of protest and agreement turned into gasps of shock as the crowd before me parted. My vision cleared to the sight of an imposing, dark silhouette emerging from the audience, which parted like water before him.

“Erix” I breathed, relief and apprehension mixed in equal measure.

Cold fire burned in his gaze as he climbed the steps to where I kneeled, and the crowd stood frozen. Dravis shrunk back, shoulders pulling up to his ears as he shuffled out of Erix’s way.

I held my breath as Erix bent and gently scooped the circlet off the ground. At one point, he had been waiting for the ceremony where it was supposed to be placed on his own head at the end of the Trials.

His eyes met mine for a split second, and the magic around me shivered.

Then it was he who turned and raised the golden crown for all to see.

“I am Erix, the descendant of Kelvar himself,” he proclaimed. Though his voice was strong, the echo of pain lanced in my chest as he said it. “Keera has bested me not once, but twice, through the power of the desert. I grant her the crown of the dunes and name her the true Champion and the rightful Queen of Kelvadan.”

With that he turned to face me. I stared up at him, warmth spreading in my chest to expel some of the doubt that had frozen my heart. When he had surrendered to me, he had been the one on his knees, and it was not lost on me how he now stood in the position of power, even as he granted me what many thought should be his.

Gently, he lowered the circlet so it rested on by brow, nestled into the braids Neven had arranged for just such a purpose. The metal was warm and heavy on my head, but my attention zeroed in on where Erix’s fingers brushed the bare right side of my scalp.

He wasn’t wearing his gloves—or his mask.

Cheers and applause ran through the courtyard. Relief washed over me in waves so strong that my fingers trembled.

Erix reached out a hand to me and I took it, letting him help me to my feet as I was careful not to step on the hem of my dress. Once I stood, he raised the hand he still held in his and presented me to the crowd.

While a few faces still looked unsure, many smiled and whooped, a few even jumping up and down and stamping their feet. The tiniest smile danced on my face at their acceptance. In my mind, I made myself a promise.

I could not—would not—fail these people.

After a few more moments of basking in their cheers, musicians stationed at the side of the courtyard began to play. The claps and cheers faded into the drums and laughter. After all this strife, it was time to celebrate.

I was sure the cup of laka in my hand must be somehow magically refilling itself. From the warmth in my belly, I had definitely been drinking it. But after talking to an archon or a citizen, I would look down and find it even fuller than I remembered. Apparently, the palace attendants were sneakier than I gave them credit for.

I turned to the next person in my line of well-wishers and smiled to find Prince Calix.

“And how are you faring, your majesty?” he asked, sketching a formal bow, even though the top of his shirt gaped open far enough, revealing a tanned and sculpted chest, to clearly indicate that he had long since forgone propriety.

I leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “I have a fear the palace staff are plotting to get me drunk.”

“Well, we can’t have that!” he proclaimed. “They’ll have trouble refilling your glass if you’re dancing.”

He gestured toward the dance floor, and I hesitated. The last two parties I danced at had gone poorly. But right now, moving my body to expel some of the nervous adrenaline that was now waging war with the alcohol in my veins sounded appealing. Swinging a saber would be better, but I would take what I could get.

“Let’s go,” I said, looking around and finally catching the eye of one of the attendants circling around with pitchers. Handing off my glass, I followed Prince Calix into the open area at the middle of the courtyard where people danced.

He grabbed my hand, and we began to move to the music. The beat of the drums pounded pleasantly through my chest, and tension I didn’t realize had been accumulating in my shoulders began to ease away. He made no move to pull me close, and together we established a rhythm as the dance floor filled in further around us.

Soon, the music grew livelier, and the dancers began to stamp and clap to the rhythm. Taking both my hands, Calix started to whirl me around in a circle, and I let him. As my momentum grew, he passed me off to a nearby dancer, and laughter grew as everybody in the courtyard swung their partners in circles before swinging to the next partner, creating a whirling pattern.

I wove through the moving crowd, laughing as I found myself swung around by Neven, and even grabbing hands for a twirl with Nyra, whom I hadn’t had a chance to speak with since returning to Kelvadan. As I became nearly dizzy with the movement, there was one set of hands I kept hoping to grasp, but they never appeared.