Chapter 49

CHAPTER 49

There is a ceremony two days later on the night of the full moon. The night that had originally been intended as my wedding night.

The pomp and circumstance are not for Conri's death. The former wolf king had been taken by some of his most loyal sycophants, who held on to him until the bitter, bitter end. We presume they buried him somewhere in Den and then fled. An unmarked grave for an unworthy king, shamed by dying at the hand of the one being who was supposed to—above all else—be loyal to him.

It was a better end than he deserved. If it had been solely up to me, he would've been left to rot as carrion scavengers picked the meat from his bones. His skeleton left as a reminder—a memorial to this grim era of the lykin's history so it would never be forgotten. But it hadn't been up to me. That had been Evander's decision, and it happened when I wasn't around. There was little point in fighting, after, so the matter was left at that.

The gathering today wasn't for Evander either. There are no great coronations among the lykin. The wolf kings are anointed in the blood of their predecessor. Their right to rule was ordained by the moon spirit's presence at their side—which I had now taken the role of. That is all the celebrations that are conducted. Nothing more is needed, as their validity is not questioned.

Though, a few things have changed with the ascension of the new king… For one, I remained with him of my own volition, rather than being passed and traded along like a royal token. I'm still at Evander's side because of the vows that bound our hearts well before he wore the fang crown of the wolf king, and I carried the powers of the moon spirit within me.

So tonight's ceremony is not to mourn Conri, or coronate Evander…but to celebrate me.

We sit, sides touching and hands folded, his thumb tracing lazy circles over my knuckle. A pyre has been constructed on the flat stone in the center of the grove. The lykin dance with the flames, stoking them with their voices. Their songs weave stories of the moon's might. Of early lykin and great wolf spirits that could traverse the world in a few giant leaps.

It's a ceremony designed to honor the power of the moon spirit. They keep looking to where I sit, off to the side, with Evander. Bowing their heads in reverence from time to time. Seeking my approval, which I make an effort to give. But I struggle to keep my focus on them. Instead, I am drawn to the bright, full moon above. Wishing that the smoke curling up from the flames was a rope that I could use to tether the heavenly body and pull it to me. Or a ladder that I could climb to ascend once more to that distant, magical place of awareness. Somewhere maybe…just maybe…far enough from this world that I could find Aurora.

"I'm sorry the moment is not more somber," Evander murmurs in my ear.

"I'm not." I bring my attention back to the earth. "I have had enough quiet mourning for a lifetime. Aurora's soul was bright until the very end. I don't think she would want us to weep for her death, but celebrate her life—life that continues to live on, in its way, within me."

I mean the words, so they come out strong. But they're laced with a sweet sorrow that I know all too well. The shroud that has haunted me my whole life has returned. Death sits at my other side as I watch the dancing and listen to the music of the lykin.

Even though I wear a small smile on my lips, there is a part of me that's filled with doubt. That wonders if I should resent all these people who, mere days ago, allowed her to die. Who had for years allowed her to be subjugated as she was. Who would gladly force me into the same fate if not for Evander's kindness.

But perhaps I'm too quick to judge them. I know the power of Conri's charm. Of his mannerisms and how well he concealed the truth of Aurora's internal reality. Maybe Evander can really build something new here. The real question is what my place will be in all of it. Because I cannot imagine being anywhere but his side… But staying here, among them—among the mortals who allowed her to be hurt, especially when my body aches with the primordial power flowing through my veins—might be more than I can bear.

Evander holds court, just as I imagined he would. He allows the alpha to come to him in their own time, as they are ready—if they are ready. This confuses the lykin, as they have only known kings who demand loyalty or death. Perhaps it is this kindness that makes them bold…and resentful.

I sit quietly at his side as the alphas argue with him, debating how best the plains will be governed. How the packs will be overseen. Evander's fingers tighten around mine in the moment, allowing him to keep in all the words that he will unleash later.

Ruling frustrates him to no end. He sees the need for it and wants what's best for his people. He wants to do right by them. But, also, Evander doesn't relish being the one to do it. I think that is part of why the other alphas present such contestations, but I'd never say so outright… He needs my support right now, and, moreover, I think he knows.

Every night, I listen to his frustrations, allowing him to air them so his chest is lighter the next day. I try and kiss away the pain. And, shamelessly, indulge in my own pleasure as well.

As the weeks slip by, I notice a change in how the alphas look at me. Their eyes flick toward my stomach more often upon seeing me. I can feel their wonderings at best and unsaid expectations at the worst.

But it isn't brought up until an alpha asks outright about Evander's plan for succession. They all know what he sacrificed as one of Conri's knights.

"I'm sorry he asked that," Evander murmurs later as we sit in the pit before the fire. I knew what was weighing on his mind before he said anything. But it's still a relief to hear him tackle the topic.

"It's a natural thing for them to wonder, I wasn't upset."

The silence becomes awkward. He shifts uncomfortably.

"I don't… I don't know." Evander's face twists with pain. "There's no precedent for this." He shakes his head. "It's possible that my fertility returned. But?—"

I stop him with a gentle touch on his knee. "It's all right."

Evander's eyes meet mine. "I know how important it was to you… All those nights we talked on the rooftop. You want a family."

"I did. I think I still do." I lock eyes with him, trying to pierce him so he doesn't look away and retreat from me. "But it's not only my decision any longer. And if we decide that is our future, then there are other ways to have a child."

"But…" His objection fades and Evander finally looks away, back to the flames. I reach out, guiding his face back to mine.

"No buts," I say gently but firmly. "A child need not be of blood to be your own. I do not need to carry one within me to feel a mother, if that's what I'm meant to be." I give him a reassuring smile. "Right now, I'm merely trying to survive this new role for us both."

"Survive," he echoes softly. It's part a question, part sorrow on my behalf.

I try not to shy away from the honest answers. "I'm still finding my place in this world, as you are."

"Right…"

The conversation trails off and neither of us reignites it. We stare into the flames listlessly. At some point, I shift into Evander's arms and he holds me tightly to him. The only way we will survive this is to cling to each other for dear life.