63. Keelan

Chapter 63

Keelan

B y the time Declan returned to Fontaine, six months had passed on the continent.

Spring turned to summer.

Summer surrendered to fall.

The Spires were ablaze with leaves of red, orange, and yellow, and a brisk wind blew, heralding the coming of colder months.

It was a beautiful time in the Kingdom.

I strode down the cobbles of the principal thoroughfare carrying a crisp new suit Jess had made for me. She would’ve had it delivered to my chamber at the Palace, but I waited so long for my fitting that she’d made me fetch it myself.

I knew she would skin me alive if I was late on this day, so my quick walk was nearly a jog.

Throngs of people lined the streets. Most wore green and gold to honor the royal house. Vendors selling everything from trinkets to funnel cakes barked out their pitch, luring festive citizens to their cart or door. Everywhere I looked, people smiled and laughed.

I couldn’t remember the last time a city felt so good.

Guards in polished silver plate and shiny helmets plumed with golden feathers greeted me at the gate with a respectful nod.

Stepping past a page and through the golden doors of the Throne Room, I braced myself for a whirlwind of activity.

I was not prepared for a full-scale battle near the Council table.

The guards lining the walls glanced at me sideways, their eyes widening slightly as I entered. One shook his head, as if to warn me away from a dangerous trap. The others ignored eye contact.

Thankfully, no one else noticed me enter.

“Jess, please,” Chancellor Marks said. “I am not asking you to do anything other than consider all sides, to think through all the consequences of every decision you make. It is what your father urged me to do for him. It is what my oath to you demands.”

She paced before the throne, her gaze never leaving his.

Her voice was low, restrained—but only barely. “I appreciate your advice, Ethan. I really do, but I am certain we passed the time for this lecture months ago.”

He crossed his arms and raised his voice. “If you would have allowed it, we would have had this conversation months ago. You shut it down every time I brought the topic up.”

“Maybe you should have taken the hint,” she snapped.

“Jess—”

“Ethan, there are three reasons today will move forward, and my High Chancellor will respect them.”

She held up one finger.

“One, being Queen is lonely and hard and . . . impossible . It is particularly impossible when I am doing so by myself. I need someone who loves and supports me, someone I can trust.”

Marks started to speak, but she held up a second finger and quirked an imperious brow.

“Two. The Kingdom has yet to heal the wounds we inflicted. I know we are doing a lot of good work on this front, but it is not enough. The people—including those in Melucia who lost their homes in our ridiculous invasion—need more than sacks of grain and carts of wood. They need hope. Today will give them some measure of that.”

She held up a third finger.

“And three. I am Queen. I will marry whoever I want .” She stepped toward Marks, her shoulders squared, chin high, and eyes daring him to speak. “I am marrying Keelan Rea. Today. Do I make myself clear, High Chancellor?”

I gawked, unsure whether to speak or duck behind a pillar.

Marks held her gaze for a long moment, then something softened in his eyes. His head lowered, and he smiled.

“What? Why are you smiling?” she snarled.

“Because . . . you are your father’s daughter.” He swallowed hard, then struggled through words. “I see him in you, Jess. I always have, even when you were a babe. I was there when you were born. Did you know that?”

Jess’s entire being relaxed as she nodded. “Father told me many times.”

Marks placed a hand on her shoulder. His smile grew warmer. His eyes grew distant with memory. “You squalled and squealed, demanding attention and obedience. I remember the moment your mother put you in my arms. You were born to wear that crown.”

“Uncle—”

“Please, let me finish,” he urged gently. “Jess, you are my goddaughter. You are my friend. You are my Queen. I love and respect you more than I ever dreamed possible. I . . . Your father would want this for you. Today, I mean. Keelan. He liked him. In truth, we all do. You chose well.”

He wiped his brow and looked away, then drew in a breath and looked back. “Jessia Vester, baby girl, I am so proud to stand in your father’s stead and give you away.”

She stared. Her mouth opened, then closed. She blinked several times, then pushed Marks back with both hands.

“High Chancellor Ethan Marks, if you make me cry and I ruin this face paint, I will exile you to the smallest island on the farthest corner—”

Marks’s arms pulling her close silenced whatever edict she was about to issue, and a tiny girl’s chin settled on his shoulder. “Thank you, Uncle Ethan.”