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“I’m not wearing it.”I folded my arms over my chest in a stand of defiance.
Elise huffed. “You are such an infant. It’s not that bad.”
A week after the battle ended, Malin was the unopposed queen, but as her husband, it seemed to mean the stupid folk of the East wanted me as some sort of king.
That meant bleeding crowns.
I pointed at the black circlet in Elise’s grip. “I’m not putting that on my head.”
“You are the king.”
The title had not settled inside me. I doubted it ever would. Malin and I were not royals. We were thieves. We lived in the underbelly, and now folk expected us to be stuffy and polite.
I refused. And frankly, so did my wife. Her council consisted of thieves and smugglers. She’d considered a few noble folk, but in the end her queries and thoughts were tossed around with the Kryv and Falkyns.
The East would not look the same under her rule. I could hardly wait to see it all unfold, but I would not wear a damn crown.
“Really?” Elise shook her head when my eyes blackened. The queen tossed the circlet back onto the pillow and shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
Malin snickered and took hold of my hand. “Come on. I want to have a good view for this.”
“A good view?” I scoffed. “You have the throne, Mal.”
“True. Still, I’ve been looking forward to this all week. Bracken is interesting and I bet he’ll be clever.”
The whole of the week had meant unraveling one thread after the other, then sewing it all back together again. We’d discovered a prison in Jagged Grove. Many of the prisoners were forgotten and had died.
Malin had found Dain and his young sister, Metta, Ansel’s and Sasha’s children, huddled together in the dark.
Ansel and Sasha were gone. Executed, along with most of House Strom.
The two children of the grounds master were taken by Hagen and Herja. Ansel had been Hagen’s friend, and Hagen had vowed to give the littles a good life in Etta when they returned to the North.
Oskar Vill had been killed defending our camp when rogue fae tried to rescue Queen Astrid. Inge mourned her brother, but took in his wife and children. Slowly, they would rebuild what had been lost between them.
We could use a day of entertainment to shake us from the loss and blood.
Any skyds left standing were tossed into the sea prisons. The academy grounds were repaired, and Niklas was given reign over the space, and access to every repository on the grounds to learn and study. Thief or noble alike. The last of the prisoners were Southern warriors. This was Bracken’s day to have his word.
We entered the masquerade courtyard. Still half broken, but it was returning to its original order. Valen had helped restore most of what he’d broken during the battle. Niklas had determined he wanted Valen to keep the walls around the Falkyn Nest.
“Makes us look terrifying to outsiders. Like we’re a bleeding fortress that ought not to be messed with,” he’d said.
I guided Malin to the seat at the head of the courtyard.
She bit her bottom lip, hiding a smile. “You look stiff, Kase. Ease up.”
I pressed a kiss to her knuckles, leaning close. “I will never grow accustomed to so many damn people bowing to me or gawking at me.”
“Keep frightening them, and perhaps they’ll stop.”
“I like this plan of yours.” I sat beside her in the gaudy, padded chair, slumped, and hardly regal, as Bracken stepped into the center of the court. “I think I will do just that, wife.”
Queen Astrid was returned to the palace after spending the week bound and under guard at our camp.
She was dirty, but still held her chin high as her son approached. “My son. You fought well. Although, I do feel most credit should be delivered to yourteam.”
“I assure you it will be.” Bracken clicked his tongue. “You were rather fearsome yourself. A tricky, cheat though, capturing me before we even left the South.”
