AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Once I'd recovered from our little family adventure last month, I considered offering to change places with him. Casimir said he'd support any decision I made and I loved him even more for it.
Kol wasn't quite as open to the idea. He'd sagely reminded me our father knew exactly what he was doing and that, "The snollygoster made his bed so now he can rot in it."
While I was severely disappointed with Father's actions that night, Kol was outraged, unable to reconcile the sacrifice that had been made so we could be free. He hung onto his resentment.
I couldn’t blame my brother for the bitterness created by that vicious lesson. His hero had allowed him to believe he was going to die. Angry, Kol refused to return to live with our father, and Father hadn't objected.
Shockingly, he also didn’t object to Nik’s insistence he remain with Kol. My brother needed to feel safe and I hoped that was Father’s reasoning to allow it.
I had faith that Brokk Ulrik, no matter what he'd done, would never allow the gulf between him and his son to last for long. He, at least, hadn't tried to use us to get his hands on the throne.
Speaking of the sovereign's chair, I realized Father had yet to sit down on the thing. He stood in front of it and looked upon the crowd. Near his hip, suspended upon a red pillow held aloft by magic, sat the crown no male had worn since the last king died.
Rather, since the last king had tried to kill my father, the king's own son, and paid for it with his life. I discarded the thought immediately. It had no place here today.
I was also on the dais, to the right of the throne. Kol was to the left of it, flanked by Nik who'd become a bodyguard of sorts. My brother was annoyed by his new shadow, but Nik would keep him out of trouble.
Casimir was positioned behind me, a steady and secure presence. Since the night Sersha died, my soulbonded mate was rarely out of arm's reach.
Guests were gathered in the throne room, noble and common fae alike. They mingled, chattering with anticipation for the coronation. It was a radical change from Sersha’s former court.
They had no idea what other drastic overhauls were about to rock their world. They were about to be tested and I wasn’t sure most could handle it.
My father reached out and unceremoniously grasped the golden crown with one fist. A collective gasp filled the air as he raised it above his head. He fixed the crowd with a steely gaze, his eyes burning with determination.
"Let it be known that I, Brokk Ulrik, son of Keane and Olette, do not wish to be King of the Faelands."
You could hear a pin drop as his voice rang out across the crowd. He tossed the crown onto the pillow like it was a useless hunk of metal. Several genteel folk looked like they were going to faint.
"What Idowish is for everyone, regardless of station, to have a voice. I wish for a cooperative and functional government, created for and by the subjects of this land. Devoid of corruption. Devoid ofIbeforewe. Rooted in the belief that a governing body exists to serve its citizens. Not the other way around."
A wave of murmurs rippled through the gathered fae.
This wasn't only going to be a change in laws or a transition away from Sersha's disgraceful acts and ideologies. There was to be a reconditioning of the Faelands’ tacit culture.
The murmurs continued and he allowed it, patient as always and patently indomitable.
Casimir lowered his face to just behind my shoulder and whispered, “Look at your brother.”
I did as he said, my heart warming at the sight. Perhaps the gulf wasn’t so big, afterall.
Kol, who hadn’t been part of today’s planning, was staring at our sire like he was the greatest hero the world had ever seen. Father was even dressed like the ones we used to read about.
His tunic and cloak were dyed a deep sapphire, with intricate embroidery on the chest and arms. A golden torque of power glinted around his neck, proclaiming him to be King despite the wishes he'd spoken.
Father was a born leader. We'd seen him take charge and dish out orders thousands of times. Watched him storm out into the night to risk his life for his crew. To put others before himself.
Maybe it was because he wasn't dressed in black for the first time in years that made him look different from the male who'd been wrecked by a heartless witch. Wreckage he carried in his soul. Wreckage we occasionally saw in his eyes when he thought we weren't looking.
Whatever it was, I hoped it lasted. Maybe not the sapphire cloak, but the rest of it.
"With these as my wishes, I will not be taking this crown upon my head, but instead declaring a new era, one of parliamentary rule. One that works with the crown, not for it."
His words sent a wave of shock through the room, one we could feel. Some of the nobles shifted uncomfortably. A few cast worried glances at one another.
I, too, had concerns when Father first mentioned his plans to me. Ancient magic had demanded one of us take to the helm and he had volunteered. He couldn't simply avoid the land's demand.
Good thing he only planned to manipulate it.
