Page 78 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)
It was amazing how quickly it was all over. After weeks of planning, it seemed strange to Josie to suddenly wake up in her own bed, as if her home hadn’t been taken over at all.
Aleissande had insisted on having every crevice of the palace searched before she and Aidon spent the night.
There was also the matter of having the staff questioned—but Josie had convinced Aleissande that they couldn’t possibly manage all of that in one night.
So instead, the general had settled for standing guard outside Josie’s door while she slept, having assigned another Visya guard to Aidon’s room.
“And when will you sleep?” Josie had asked, her arms folding across her chest as she rose a stern brow at Aleissande.
“When I know you’ve rested,” Aleissande had replied before pressing a gentle kiss to Josie’s lips.
As if that was supposed to help her close the door.
Miraculously, she had, and she was grateful she’d slept through the night. She’d expected to be plagued by nightmares, especially after all Aidon had told her.
Her heart ached for Aya—for all she had endured, and all that was still to come.
Josie chewed her lip as she wandered the halls of her home, her fingers trailing over the walls and framed paintings her parents had hung throughout.
Aidon would address the people this afternoon. Josie had listened as he practiced his speech late into the night, his leg bouncing while he sat in his desk chair.
It had felt so achingly normal that Josie had nearly cried.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?”
Josie jumped as her brother’s voice sounded from behind her. She hadn’t even heard him step into the hall. She whirled around, her reprimand dying on her lips as she took him in.
He’d insisted on bathing yesterday before they did anything else, and Josie had scrunched her nose and told him it was all the better for her, but…
“You shaved,” Josie blurted out as she scanned his face. Gods, he looked years younger. “But you kept the stubble, I see.”
Aidon grinned. “I hear it makes me more handsome.”
“Had time to spend with lovers on your grand adventure, did you?”
His grin faded into something softer, his voice quieting as he admitted, “Just the one.”
“What?” Josie exclaimed. That certainly hadn’t come up in their discussion last night. Aidon winced at her volume, but she waved him off. “Who?!”
He leaned against the wall, his arms folding over his chest. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me about yours.”
Josie felt her cheeks heat. They hadn’t gotten to that—Aleissande—either. She pursed her lips, pretending to think it over.
“Fine,” she finally said with a shrug. “Keep your secrets.”
Aidon rolled his eyes as he straightened. “As if I have any. The whole kingdom already knows all of my secrets. Or at least rumors of them.”
There was a levity to his voice, but Josie didn’t buy it for a moment, not with the tense set of his shoulders, or the way he sucked in a deep breath before adding, “I suppose they’ll all receive their confirmation soon enough.”
And just like that, Josie was thrust back into reality. Her thumb toyed with the ring on her middle finger, tracing over the small scratches that had gathered after years of wear. It had been her father’s, given to her on her sixteenth birthday.
Something twisted in her chest as she thought of her parents.
She’d wanted to charge into the night and fetch them herself, but…
Aidon needed her here. Aleissande had sent a member of the Royal Army to the location Ryker had given her.
Josie doubted they’d still be here by the time her parents got back.
Aidon fidgeted before her, that frenetic energy that had long lived inside her brother making itself known as he dug the toe of his boot into the ornate rug beneath his feet.
Empty words, however kind, would not soothe him. So instead, she waited.
“No matter how today goes,” Aidon finally began, his gaze solemn as it met hers, “I want you to know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve always done.”
“You already thanked me, Aidon,” Josie said softly.
He had—profusely.
But he shook his head. “Not for the years you’ve stood by me. You have always been my biggest champion, Josie. And I can never repay you for that.”
“It is not some debt to be repaid,” she insisted, her heart aching fiercely. How could he not see that? How could he not understand that she would go to the depths of the seven hells for him for no other reason than he was her brother, and she loved him?
“You don’t ask for repayment for your love and support of me ,” Josie tried to reason.
“True,” Aidon admitted. “But you haven’t—”
“There are no buts, Aidon. I love you because you are my brother. I know you, and it is because I know you that I believe in you. I know you are the king Trahir needs. It is no burden.”
Aidon rubbed at the back of his neck. “Even with the problems my affinity has brought to our door?”
Josie closed the space between them and grabbed his arms, her grip tight as she shook him gently. “ It is no burden , brother.”
And she meant it. Everything she had done here was for Aidon, yes. But it was for her people, too. She would not have done it had she thought Aidon was not fit to rule. She would not even have considered it.
Duty.
Responsibility.
Loyalty.
Those had been the values her parents had passed on to them both, and Josie…
Josie had finally learned how to make them her own.
***
Long before Aidon took the throne, he wondered who he would be if he hadn’t been raised as the prince who would one day lead.
There had always been two parts of him—the Aidon who loved a crowd and thrived within one; and the Aidon who found true peace in the quiet of the woods with his father or sailing on gentle waters either alone or with a friend who was content to leave him to his thoughts.
He wasn’t sure which of them had come first: the quiet contemplator or the crowd-lover. Which one had his upbringing carved into him? Which one had been forced to shrink to accommodate the other? He supposed it didn’t matter. He couldn’t imagine himself without either side, now.
Today, he was certainly grateful for the one who could command a crowd.
Aidon tugged at the collar of his fighting leathers.
The sun had already arced past its highest point, and a breeze was rolling in off the waves behind him, but he couldn’t help but feel overheated as he stood in the small tent behind the makeshift stage Lucas had managed to get erected on the sand of the crescent moon beach with no notice whatsoever.
“Please,” he’d scoffed from his infirmary bed. “It’s like you think I’ve never planned an event while on bed rest.”
“You haven’t ever planned an event while on bed rest,” Clyde had chimed in, eyeing Lucas’s broken leg skeptically.
“Would we call this an event?” Aidon had asked.
It felt more like a sentencing, especially now that he could hear the murmurs of a crowd as they gathered on the beach.
Rumor had it that the news of Aidon’s return had spread, but he’d heard nothing of the overall sentiment with regards to his arrival.
Oh well. This wasn’t about him—not really.
“Ready?” Josie asked as she ducked her head inside the tent.
“As I’ll ever be,” Aidon muttered. His eyes flicked upward, as if he could see the golden crown sitting on his head. It felt foreign after so many months without it. “Are you ready?” he asked his sister.
Josie shifted her weight between her feet. “I’m not the one addressing our people.”
“Ah, but you are the one about to be lauded as a hero.”
Josie’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare.”
“I will not let you go uncredited.”
His sister waved a dismissive hand. “Let the bards sing of it in the taverns.”
“It’s time,” Aleissande interrupted from the tent flaps.
Aidon stretched his neck from side to side, nerves fluttering in his chest as he cleared his throat. He paused before he plucked the crown from his head, the gold warm against his hands.
It is not the crown that makes the king.
Dauphine’s words were a soothing whisper in his ear.
He could do this. He would do this—not for himself, but for his people.
For Eteryium.
Aidon straightened his spine and lifted his chin. And then he strolled out of the tent, ready to make his plea.