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He took a wide stance, crossing his arms over his bare chest.
“Not true.” His smile didn’t waver, which allowed me to breathe a little easier.
“We made a deal!” Lord Adriyel bellowed. “You know what happens to promise breakers.”
Kyllen shrugged.
“Oh, I fully intend to keep my promise, which was to refuse the Crown of Lorsan if I won the tournament. I didn’t lie. I don’t want the crown.”
Roars of disbelief rolled from the audience.
Lord Adriyel smirked triumphantly, sending a chill of trepidation down my back.
Kyllen looked at me, and his expression melted with so much love and affection, it floored me.
“Lorsan already has a sovereign,” he said. “A much better one than I could ever be. Queen Amira is the rightful owner of the Crown of Lorsan.” He lowered his head in a deferential bow to me. “And the crown she shall keep.”
Fury distorted Lord Adriyel’s normally calm expression.
“The crown is mine! You promised to forfeit it.”
“But the crown has never been the prize of the tournament,” I corrected. “It was my hand in marriage, nothing less, nothing more.”
“You see, my lord…” Kyllen rested his hands on his hips. “When we made the deal, you were so blinded by your greed and so eager to take advantage of me that you didn’t pay enough attention to my wording. I promised to give up the crown, not the queen.” He tilted his head, arching a brow ridge. “There is a huge difference between you and me, Adriyel. You fought for the throne, but all I’ve ever wanted was the woman who sits on it. The queen will keep the crown. But I’m keeping the queen. She is my prize. And I’m claiming her as my own.”
“You!” Lord Adriyel raised his sword, aiming it at Kyllen.
The merry expression flew off Kyllen’s face. His eyes narrowed with murder as he yanked the dagger from the sheath on his thigh.
Adriyel pivoted to me.
I was the one standing in his way to the throne. The crown was on my head. And at me he directed his rage.
“No!” Kyllen leaped at Adriyel’s back.
But the lord’s sword had already descended.
I shrank back, but not fast enough. The sharp blade pierced the veil in front of my face.
Adriyel staggered back, Kyllen’s dagger sticking out of his neck, buried in his flesh almost up to its handle. Crimson blood pulsed out around the blade. The metal glinted red with the deadly Nerifir iron.
Lord Adriyel sank to his knees, then dropped to his side onto the deck. His sword sliced through my veil all the way down. A breeze from the river caught the air-light material, blowing it open.
“Close your eyes, Amira!” Kyllen yelled, his voice filled with horror.
But it was too late.
Frozen in shock, I stared into the silver-blue eyes of Lord Adriyel at my feet, without the milky haze of the veil between me and the gorgonian’s eyes.
He smirked. Life steadily trickled out of him in the pulsing ribbon of blood from his neck. But he knew he got his revenge.
“No, Amira. Please!” Kyllen leaped over the dying lord to me. “Close your eyes, my love.” He cupped my face.
I could see it on his face. He knew it was too late, way too late. My insides chilled. My heart dropped, crushed by the agony of parting from him. I froze, rooted in place.
“Oh, Amira…” He held my face in his hands. “You can’t leave me. You can’t leave me, my sweet pea.”
Sorrow rose in a swell of darkness inside me. It lodged in my throat, suffocating me. Tears burned my eyes, blurring my vision. They rolled down my face. Hot tears against the chilled skin on my cheeks.
I felt them.
I felt Kyllen’s warm palms cupping my face.
I felt the whispering caress of my gauzy skirts moving in the breeze against my legs.
I smelled the fragrant, moisture-rich air of Lorsan. And I heard its people murmur in wonder around us.
Tears gathered in my eyes, obscuring Kyllen’s beloved face. I blinked them away to see him better.
I blinked.
I drew in a breath. My chest expanded. I could breathe.
