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I should hurry. They were surely looking for me, as the coronation would start at midnight—the traditional time of change—and last until dawn. If only I could fly away on Cherny and leave it all behind. But, through their convictions, Vanya and Alexei had forced me to accept I cared. I now knew the drink halls and barges of Tal, the night market, and the screams in Lowtown when the undead broke down their flimsy doors. Nikolai wanted the throne even less than I, and I could too well imagine what kind of king he would be.
At least I read the ordinances before I signed them. I wanted to do better. To get up again, if only I could stop falling.
I paused under the familiar trees, reluctant to rejoin the world. A soft step signaled I was not as alone as I had assumed. My emotions slid behind a king’s formal face before I turned.
Ekaterina had paused five feet behind me. When our eyes met, she continued until we were close enough to feel each other’s body heat. The point where touching seems inevitable, but a gulf remained. She was not seductive or coy; instead, her face matched mine.
Her waist-length, silky black hair was the same, her fine dress—red for luck and celebration—could have been one I excitedly stripped off her perfect body over three years ago.Only the caution in her eyes showed the passing time. I owed this woman more than I could ever repay her but wanted nothing to do with her, especially tonight. Not arresting her for hurting Vanya would have to be enough.
“Dimi,” she said, her voice bringing back memories of passion and pain. “Tonight, you’ll finally be king. Once, I dreamt of this day. Are you marrying the foreigner?”
“Eki—”
“First one plays you, then you take the next one. You promised to marry me. How many promises have you broken?”
Her hard tone cut through my excuses. As king, I could marry her, had promised to do so and avenge our son. The plague had robbed me of the revenge I planned for my father, impossible circumstances had stolen away another woman I’d, impossibly, lo—No.
Eki stood before me, face tense as if waiting for my judgement.
I could not bring myself to fight anymore. The world had broken both of us.
“You’re right, I did promise. Eki, we were both kids. My father should never have done what he did, but we were also wrong.” My voice softened. “You must stop. What you did to Vanya… You need help.”
She seemed to deflate. “Then I know this is what you want. When you left, I sought my own revenge. Dimi, I’m also sorry, but it’s not in the past. Enemies walk everywhere. I must do whatever I can for our child.”
“He’s gone, Eki. I cannot live for the dead when the living needs me. What—”
“Promise me you’ll find me when you’re king. There’s someone you must meet, and I’ll tell you everything I can. I’ll trust no one until you wear the crown. Death is coming.”
Eki marched away in a swish of skirts, on the outside, as perfect as she had ever been.
“What death?” I called after her. Death always came, especially in Tal.
Her words made no sense besides showing the insanity Mariska must have seen when telling me to talk to Ekatarina. Was there a chance she would hurt Helia like she had Vanya?
My guards waited for me outside the Tower. I sent one to guard the Oberwaldian princess. The others trailed my angry steps back to my new living space, where the sick smell of my father seemed to stick to the bedchamber no matter what anyone did. The little sleep I had gotten the previous days had been on the sofa.
Servants rushed in to dress me in gold and red, transforming me into someone else, while I did nothing.
Did Mariska listen?The undead had shown me death did not need to be the end, something I’d never thought possible.
I ruled a kingdom built on death’s worship and it seemed to haunt my every step. Scripture said there must be death for life, and for once, I had started taking them literally, because there are some sins you live with, and others that wear you away until you are gone and a stranger stands in your place.
In a blood-red coat, heavy with onyx and gold, I strode down the stairs as the bell rang twelve times. Behind me, bone soldiers in ceremonial armor marched, then my family—the last of House Herebov after nearly three hundred years of rule. Together, we started the day greeting death, now we honored life.
I stepped through the packed amphitheater that normally held the three-day worship. Everyone I passed sank to their knees under the lantern lights.
Above, the bones swayed, the wind whispering its own greeting.
Morovara and my uncle—as the eldest man in my family—waited ahead with a glass crown that fractured the light. Colors played across the ancient surface and sigils.
The glass crowns could only sit on one head at a time. Until it touched my brow it belonged to my father. Or perhaps the magic knew he had died and waited for another to feed the curse Solovyova spoke of.
I arrived and silence settled.
The wind stilled.
Morovara’s eyes met mine as my uncle lifted the crown high.
