Page 31

Chapter 31

Duty

K ing Stellon

Sitting on the coral throne, I looked over the collection of expensive fabrics and flower varieties and elaborately prepared food dishes displayed before me in the throne room.

I had no interest in any of it.

“Your Majesty,” the royal event planner appealed, “I need your approval before I can order the seamstresses to begin sewing or tell the chefs to begin gathering the necessary ingredients to entertain such a large crowd.”

“It’s all fine,” I said, with a lazy sweep of my hand to dismiss her.

“But Your Majesty,” she protested. “Do you have no opinion at all? It’s your coronation ball.”

My personal guard herded the woman and her assistants out of the room, leaving me with just my top advisors.

“How’s the search going? Any updates?” I asked.

I’d ordered an immediate canvass of witnesses who might have seen the dragon’s path. I’d also ordered the arena searched for my brother’s remains.

A second crown had indeed been found, but there’d been no body attached to it.

It might have fallen from his head before he died. He might have taken it off. I had no way of knowing.

No one had seen any sign of Pharis since the arena disaster.

Mareth and I had both felt the return of our glamours, so that wasn’t a hopeful sign.

The two advisors looked at each other, my minister of security apparently having lost the mental argument they were having over who would answer me.

“Still nothing, sire. Surely she is dead.” He hung his head. “The dragon has eaten her—or at best dropped her from a vast height over a far away land. In either case, there is no hope. No one has ever been taken by a dragon and survived.”

“Keep looking,” I ordered.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The other advisor, the minister of finance, spoke up.

“May I suggest once more that you consider making your coronation ball a bond-mate search as well?”

“Many were aware that you and your father were not on the best terms at the end and that he was considering making Pharis his heir,” he said. “You should make haste in picking a bride and cementing your alliance with a strong ally who can help protect your claim to the throne.”

“I don’t care about the throne,” I said. “I don’t have the heart to rule. Make Mareth Queen.”

“We cannot do that, and neither can you,” said the minister of finance.

The minister of security nodded vigorously in agreement. “I understand your heartbreak, Your Majesty. I lost my bond-mate in the arena. But you must rule. Our enemies sense our vulnerable state. If you refuse the crown, Elves could fall out of power, and the land could end up under Dryad rule, or Dwarves—or worse yet, Satyrs. Your people are counting on you.”

My people. They were my people now, my responsibility.

A long-ago conversation with Raewyn came back to mind. I’d promised her that when I eventually succeeded my father as King, I’d do things differently.

I’d told her I’d take care of my subjects—Fae and human alike—and look after their best interests.

Her family was out there somewhere, and I certainly didn’t want to see what would happen to them under Dryad rule.

My people and my duty were all I had left.

“Fine,” I said on a weary exhale. “Go ahead. Make the announcement.”

Both men beamed with excitement, practically running from the room before I changed my mind, obviously eager to begin making arrangements to find the new King a proper wife.

Now that Raewyn was gone, there was no possibility of marrying a woman I loved.

What did it matter who I married?