Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

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T HE brIEF TRUCE BETWEEN CAYDEN AND ME DISSOLVED quickly over the past four days. Between traveling, there has been endless bickering, which usually leaves one of us red-faced and the other smirking. At one point, I chased him with a knife before Finnian threw me over his shoulder and carried me away. I don't remember what prompted the knife chase, but it was fun. Cathartic. It's not like I could truthfully do anything with the blade.

Citizens of Vareveth saw our party getting closer to the capital, Verendus, and word must've traveled quickly because I can already hear the cheers of people crying out for their commander and the lost princess. My shaking hands tie off the flower crown made of bell-shaped purple starsnaps and some added greenery I've been working on. I don't want to dig through my trunks for my crown, but I also don't want a bare head for my first appearance post-exile. I wasn't planning on a grand entrance after traveling for almost a week.

Finnian watches me with narrowed eyes. "You sure you're okay with this?"

"Yes." I give him the same short answer I have the past five times he has asked that question. I'm not fine, I'm far from fine, but I must be fine. The thought of being surrounded by people is more intimidating than I thought it would be. My inhales are sharp and shallow, my stomach churns, and my palms tingle. It's not that I've never been in front of a crowd before—I've addressed the citizens of Aestilian more times than I can count—but the thought of being surrounded by people I don't know, people who could very likely be there to kill me, is daunting.

"You don't have to lie to me. I know you well enough." Finnian kicks off the tree and takes a few steps in my direction but never reaches to touch me. He knows it won't calm me right now. I don't want to stand still. I want to keep pacing.

"Have you decided to forgive me?"

"Fine." He holds up his hands in surrender. "I forgive you for not telling me you made a deal with two of the best-looking men I have ever seen. Other than myself, of course." My laugh sounds breathless, more like a gasp. Finnian's humorous demeanor, which usually appears effortlessly, is strained. "You definitely could have wiped the drool off my face, though."

"I was a little more focused on getting the venom out of your leg," I retort. Finnian was never actually mad at me. I'm also glad I didn't tell him anything about Cayden or Ryder because the look on Finnian's face when he first saw them was priceless. I had to push his chin up to close his mouth.

"A noble diversion." His smile fades. "Are you ready to leave?"

I dryly swallow, surveying the space around us. We're separated from the rest of the group by a rocky hill. I didn't want anyone seeing me like this, but Finnian doesn't count. Cayden had to send a letter to King Eagor once we heard the cheering, so we're taking a temporary break. His darkened eyes and deep glare were the only signs of his irritation.

"Mm-hmm." I make it a few steps before it feels like a hand has closed over my throat. My palms moisten. I dig my nails into my skin, but nothing can control the flare of anxiety coursing through me, conquering me.

"Elowen." Finnian's concerned voice surrounds me. My fingers close around two hilts while I sink to my knees and place my fists on the cool surface of the rocky hill. Sweat breaks out against my skin, but I feel incredibly cold. Shivers rack up and down my spine, making my teeth chatter together. My breathing is ragged, and black dots fill my vision. I pull on the collar of my leathers, which suddenly feels too tight. "Fucking gods, Elowen, look at me." Finnian drops to his knees beside me, but I don't look at him; I can't.

"What's going on?" Ailliard's voice drifts closer, followed by the crunch of leaves. But I keep my eyes on my knives to ground myself and take deep breaths to calm my nerves.

"The fucking parade! Who throws a parade for someone who spent the last fifteen years in hiding?" Finnian's tone rises in anger. I drop a knife and reach out to him, silently telling him to keep his voice down.

"It's what she signed up for," Ailliard hisses. "Elowen, be stronger. You can do this."

"She is strong," Finnian growls. "She can be strong and have anxiety. She's not made of stone."

"Finnian, it's okay," I rasp, desperately needing water. The tingling sensation still lingers in my palms, along with light-headedness, but I want to end their argument before it gets worse. "It is what I signed up for." I mutter a curse, getting to my feet and wiping the sweat from my brow. My body still shakes as I walk out from behind the hill, Finnian and Ailliard in tow. The latter whispers in my ear that I'll be fine before jogging over to his horse.

"I can find a back entrance," Finnian offers, uncapping a canteen for me.

"I have to do this." I take in several gulps of water before speaking again, "I don't want to be scared of living."

Leaves crunch behind me, but I don't have to turn to know who it is. I wrap my shaking hands around my torso and face Cayden, trying to appear unrattled. Even though I know it won't work. I've realized he seldom believes I'm fine when I say I am.

"I sent a letter with your proper titles so that Eagor will announce you as both princess and queen," Cayden states. The kind gesture catches me off guard. "My soldiers are lining the perimeter of the parade, and all attendees have temporarily forfeited their weapons. Ryder and I will flank you—"

"I'll be on one side of her," Finnian cuts in.

Cayden continues after I nod. "Finnian and I will flank you the entire ride."

I nod again, turning away from him and raising myself onto my horse. Finnian walks away once I'm settled, but Cayden remains, looking like he wishes to say something more. "Yes?"

We're learning how to read each other, and I know it irks him just as much as it unsettles me. We're two people who don't like anyone digging too deep, but he's met his match. If he wants to push me, I'll push him right back. His tongue pokes into the side of his cheek, eyes drifting over me.

"Looks good on you." He jerks his chin toward my flower crown before turning away, leaving me stunned and irritated.

The ride to Verendus is short, and the cheering crowd soon envelops us. Cayden's soldiers line the parade just as he promised. My horse's hooves patter against the cobblestone street as I give an effortlessly fake smile to the citizens. Various colored petals rain down, engulfing us in a sea of red, pink, purple, and yellow. It's hard to make out anything besides the petals, but I note vines creeping up several buildings along the main road.

Finnian soaks in the attention and seems to be smiling genuinely. It doesn't shock me when I look to my other side and find Cayden giving his signature glare. He must feel me looking at him because he quickly turns his head, and a smirk grows in place of his scowl. The scent of butter, cinnamon, and chocolate travels out of several bakeries, making my mouth water. Pastries have a special place in my heart—alongside dragons, knives, flowers, and books.

The petals clear, and in front of me stands a castle far more beautiful than anything my mind could have concocted. It's made of gray stone and sits atop a rocky hill resembling a small mountain. Vine-covered spires stretch high into the sky, and a deep blue lake set on the left side spills into a forest sitting at the foot of snowcapped mountains. A gushing waterfall pours into a river at the base of the hill that stretches through Verendus, and a stone bridge with gold embellishments sprawls from the main entrance, leading to a tall staircase bordered with emerald banners embroidered with golden trees.

King Eagor and Queen Valia Dasterian descend the steps, stopping on one of the platforms between flights while waving to their citizens. They look exactly how all monarchs are supposed to look: regal, untouchable, and rich. Matching gold and white capes drift behind them, and emerald crowns sit on their blond heads. Valia's hair is platinum and curled to perfection, whereas Eagor's is sandy and pushed back, with no strand out of place.

The crowd silences when their king raises his hand. "It is with my greatest pleasure that we welcome the lost princess of Imirath, Elowen Atarah. The queen of Aestilian, a nation she forged herself. We are honored to ally with such a resilient woman." The crowd cheers once again, drowning out Eagor's voice. I turn away from the monarchs and face the crowd, waving at them. Finnian raises his fingers to his lips and blows a high-pitched whistle that changes my smile from forced to genuine.

As inviting as this welcome is, I know sometimes the most beautiful things can be the most dangerous. It may seem like I'm looking at a rosebush, but I'm fully aware of the thorns that threaten to pierce my skin if I get too close or the vipers that will bite my ankles if I'm distracted. Everyone knows how you handle a snake should it threaten you: You cut off the head.