Page 62

Chapter sixty

T he days bled together as Astrid met with Ledivion’s royal council, the Earth Weavers’ Guild, and more than a dozen chefs who vied for their culinary delights to grace her table.

She stood on the raised hexagon dais and Viktor circled her, scrutinizing his design.

She’d asked to be wrapped in the night sky and his creation didn’t disappoint.

The strapless black dress hugged her curves and flared at the waist leading into a train.

He pinned diamond-studded lace along the tight boning over her hips and draped it over the full skirt.

Astrid hoped the gown reminded Dimitri of their nights together, where they were surrounded by his shadows and glimmers of her soul stars.

The happiness touching her lips was momentary.

Her upcoming coronation should have thrilled her, but the ease at which Ledivites shifted their loyalty from one monarch to the next left her unsettled.

Astrid had killed her predecessor, marking her ceremony a Crimson Ascension.

Keres had taken Ambrose’s sword and weakened the blade.

Ledivite ritual demanded she break the brittle steel and toss it on Ambrose’s grave.

Memorializing Ambrose’s reign as a disgrace.

The court blindly aligned themselves to Astrid and she couldn’t help but wonder if they fantasized about breaking Dimitri’s twin blades over her grave. She admired the glittering gems and banished the thought.

Dimitri was kissed by death.

They would rule until the stars burned from the sky and the seas turned to ash.

Astrid devoted herself to the Three-Faced Mother, but Ledivion bowed to a different god. Her fears were revered customs and beliefs here.

“Did the Ledivites embrace Ambrose so readily when he took the throne?” Astrid asked. Ambrose hadn’t killed for his throne, but he did inherit it suddenly.

“Vinceret is worshiped here. He’s the God of Conquest and Blood,” Viktor said as he pinned the edges of the lace to the train. “Ambrose’s father was devout. King Constantine rode into every battle. Fought and bled alongside the Legion.”

Astrid glanced over her shoulder. “And Ambrose didn’t?”

Viktor shook his head as he stood. “He never enlisted with the Royal Legion, never marched onto a battlefield.”

Confirmation of what Astrid already knew. Ambrose wasn’t battle-hardened. His soft hands were a reflection of his comfortable life of luxury. Nothing he obtained was hard fought. He’d been gifted everything, yet squandered it and took it for granted.

“How did he become King if he lacked the very tenants Ledivites hold to their heart?” Astrid asked.

Viktor’s brow drew together as he draped black silk over her arm. He pinched the fabric and his gaze lifted to hers. “It was quite the scandal. I’m surprised word never reached Clorea.”

“If it did, my father wouldn’t have told me.”

Viktor laughed, returning to his task. “There were many who thought they were more deserving of the crown. Lord Ivan was the loudest. He was King Constantine’s right hand. They worked in tandem through many campaigns.”

Astrid cataloged everything Viktor didn’t say. Ambrose never trained. Whether he thought he was above it or was too lazy didn’t matter. He didn’t have the respect of the court, nor of his people.

“Lord Ivan challenged Ambrose for the throne during one of the council meetings and Lord Dimitri killed him before he could stand.”

The corners of Astrid’s lips lifted into a smile. She would have handled it differently, but a desiccated, black-veined corpse would stop tongues from wagging. Dimitri’s soul reaping magic was an astonishing asset, but she preferred to keep her playthings. Until she was bored.

“The nobles believe Queen Vesta wanted Ambrose on the throne. Lord Dimitri upheld her wish.”

Her sword’s loyalty never faltered and the knowledge soothed her.

“Did you know her?”

“Not truly,” Viktor answered. “I saw King Constantine and Queen Vesta at feasts and celebrations, but I didn’t move in their circles. She did come in from time to time during Dimitri’s final fittings. I’ve heard the rumors, I think all of us have, but I saw nothing illicit between them.”

The clothier thinned his lips as his wings tightened to his back and glanced at the doorway.

“Dimitri is overseeing the transfer of the war archive chronicling the past century to my private library. He’ll be a few hours,” Astrid volunteered.

Viktor’s wings lowered an inch, and the tension left his shoulders.

“He’s really taken to you.” He adjusted her neckline and continued without meeting her eyes.

“There was a constant sadness that shadowed Queen Vesta’s soul.

I think she and Lord Dimitri quieted each other’s pain.

The Queen longed for the son she lost, and while he’d never admit it, Lord Dimitri misses his friends and family murdered in the raid that brought him here. ”

Viktor would never know how close he was to the truth. She smiled when he lifted his gaze.

“Lost souls will always find one another.”