Page 64

Chapter sixty-two

A strid’s horse came to a stop beneath the grand archway. Sunlight gleamed across the barren courtyard. The earth weavers had offered to grow trees across the expanse of snow and braid it into a walkway, but she’d declined.

Ambrose’s grave would share nothing with Queen Vesta’s resting place.

She’d ordered the deconstruction of arena seating, rebuilding it in shades of crimson to reflect Clorean architecture. The pillars were carved with flowers transitioning through the seasons, beginning with winter and ending in spring.

Astrid embraced the strange Ledivite customs. This was once the royal wing. The room she’d shared with Dimitri had occupied the space upon which the disgraced King’s tomb now stood.

The blood red lilies that had lined the railings little more than two weeks ago had been replaced with glittering rubies.

Astrid wasn’t sure if they had taken the red gems she’d arrived with as her calling card, or if the Ledivites understood that in Clorea, rubies signified the blood she was willing to spill for her kingdom.

Astrid steered her horse closer to Dimitri’s. “Did you tell them to decorate with rubies?”

Her sword gazed over the glittering stands and grinned. “I would have told them to encrust the railing in diamonds to match your piercing.”

Astrid’s lids narrowed to slits, and he chuckled.

Her attention was drawn to gray robed priests emerging from the opposite end of the courtyard. Four of them stepped into the snow and a hush fell over the crowd. They stopped beside the grave and Astrid urged her horse forward with Dimitri at her side.

Her train fanned over the white mare’s rump and trailed behind. Black lace over silk stitched with diamonds stood out against the snow. Behind them, the royal council followed on horseback.

Astrid recognized Dobromil as they drew closer.

He stood before the grave with his gray-winged brethren behind him.

Two of the priests held white marble trays lined in black velvet.

Ledivion’s crown of daggers rested on one and a diadem with two blades positioned to mimic horns lay on the other.

The last priest balanced Ambrose’s sword on his upturned palms. One beneath the guard and the other near the lower half of the blade.

Dimitri dismounted first and swept her train to one side of her before offering his hand.

“Husband,” Astrid said, taking his hand. Her boots sank into the snow and their horses were led away by the royal council.

“Your Majesties,” Dobromil said with a bow.

Astrid curtsied and answered, “Priest.”

Whispering murmurs broke over the crowd as Astrid straightened. Ledivites held Vinceret to their hearts but the priests and priestesses closest to him didn’t receive the same honor. A disrespect she would rectify after she was crowned.

Dimitri flared his wings, and the ambient chatter ceased.

Dobromil nervously glanced at the crowd and outstretched his hands on either side of him. “May Vinceret guide your reign.”

Astrid and Dimitri lowered to their knees as he brought his hands together.

The snow chilled her legs as it melted beneath her. Astrid kept her head bowed and Dobromil’s gray robes turned away from her.

“Crown your Queen first,” Dimitri bit out.

The priest froze. This wasn’t what they’d rehearsed but Dobromil recovered quickly. He pivoted to Astrid’s crown and lifted the intricately woven gold over his head.

“Vinceret bless you and may the blood of your enemies overflow your cup,” he said.

The weight of Ledivion’s crown settled among her jeweled combs. The Mothers’ Serpents led her to this moment. Ledivion was now hers and her birthright, Clorea, would soon follow.

Astrid upturned her face as Dobromil pointed his index and middle finger together. He made the sweeping motion of a V in front of her throat and said, “Rise, Astrid Noctis, Queen of Ledivion.”

She stood and the crowd roared, “May the blood of your enemies overflow your cup.”

Dobromil lifted Dimitri’s crown of daggers, and their audience quieted once more.

“Vinceret bless you and may the blood of your enemies overflow your cup,” the priest said as he crowned her sword. “Rise, Dimitri—”

“Queen Astrid’s Death Spirit,” Dimitri finished.

Astrid ignored the whispers among the nobles and royal council behind her. She stepped into Dimitri and traced his pointed ear. The small hoops and hanging gold clicked across her night-streaked nails as he turned to gaze at her.

Desire and dark promises stirred in his molten gold eyes.

“Rise, Dimitri,” Dobromil started again. “Queen Astrid’s Death Spirit.”

Her sword stood and the crowd didn’t repeat the blessing she’d received. Astrid wasn’t sure if it was because he’d forgone his title, or her subjects refused to acknowledge her sword.

Dimitri removed his crown and pressed the braided metal into her hands.

“No,” Astrid argued.

Ledivion had betrayed Dimitri for the last time. These fools cursed the blessing he was. Astrid pointed to the snow between them. “We will rule side by side and if there are any objections… their bodies will line our court.”

Dimitri chuckled and lowered to one knee before bowing his head.

Astrid crowned the male fate gifted her.

“May the blood of our enemies overflow your cup, my king.”

Dimitri held her stare, vicious and predatory.

Her perfect sword.

Dimitri’s lips warmed the scar across her palm, and he stood, turning to Dobromil. “Bring my wife Ambrose’s sword, priest.”

Dobromil retrieved the sword and stood between Dimitri and herself. Sunlight glinted off the blade as he bowed and held out the weapon.

The handle was cold in Astrid’s grip, and it was heavier than she expected.

She approached Ambrose’s grave. The headstone was the same stone as his parents’—light gray rock curving to a rounded top.

Unlike his father, the Morana crest of three intersecting swords didn’t embellish his marker.

No name was carved into the surface. Nothing identifiable.

Ambrose was entombed beneath a blank grave.

Astrid stabbed the point of his sword into the frozen ground.

She held the pommel and drew her leg up, kicking through the face of the blade.

The steel shattered, littering jagged shards over the snow while a few inches of the tip jutted upright.

She tossed the handle, letting the remnants of Ambrose’s blade clatter against his grave.

The Ledivites erupted into cheers and Dimitri’s winged shadow engulfed her own. Astrid turned toward him. “Did you want to break a sword on his grave, too?”

Dimitri’s wings curved around her as he pulled her in. He crooked a finger under her chin and their lips met. His kiss wasn’t gentle, but he was reverent. The heat of him burned into her memory.

“The only thing I want is you.”