35. Eldrin

Chapter thirty-five

Eldrin

T wo weeks. It ended up taking only two weeks for me to consolidate my power, helped by the fact that Vanir was unpopular so that the factions I needed to assemble were ready at the first opportunity to supplant him. First, I traveled from one settlement to another, declaring that Vanir was dead, that the barrier was strong once more, and that I was now king. Most accepted me. Some didn’t. Some died.

I remembered how some courtiers had treated Amber, the mockery she endured during the audience with the king. Those who whispered about her when she couldn’t hear and didn’t care about the fact that I could. Those who made vile jests about her. I killed no one for words alone, but if I was ever undecided, that fact was the one that often made up my mind .

The habitual doubt about my own inadequacies still plagued me, but I pushed it aside. I would do what I could for my people. Vanir wasn’t the worst ruler we’d ever had, but there was much that I could do better. I would do better. To start, his increased taxes were stopped immediately, and I ordered an accounting to be made to restore funds to the people. Fortunately, his pleasure house was still only in the assembly stage, but it was disbanded instantly.

Managing the capital was a trickier matter. Royal succession had changed families before, and there were a few who thought perhaps this was their opportunity to place a new bloodline on the throne. Luckily, I had more friends than I thought, or, at least, those who were happy to support me.

My opponents died, their skulls added to the base of my throne. Lady Marciel, who had taunted Amber during that audience, was one. It just so happened that she tried to have me killed in my sleep in order to put her son on the throne. Some of Ivas’s family members were added to my seat as well, for their part in exploiting our people. However, I only took care of those who were willing participants. I wasn’t one to order death solely based on the actions of other family members. If Amber ever came back, I hoped she would be relieved that some of the most troublesome courtiers were now décor. Our court was thinned, and a lot of fresh faces filled the palace halls.

Two weeks after I said goodbye to Amber, the crown was formally placed on my head and I took my vow, swearing to serve the Woods. I made a note not to bleed near the barrier the next time it weakened, which hopefully wouldn’t be for another century or two. But I would do whatever I could to make our people prosperous in our new kingdom—we needed unity, not greed.

“You’re an idiot,” Oristan said to me, three weeks after Amber left. The two of us were alone in my chambers, myself now secure enough in power to entertain my friendships and spend my evenings as I wished. Vanir was no longer there to hurt me every way he could, and his supporters were either dead or gone.

“I’m king now,” I said, pouring myself another goblet of wine.

“Sorry. You’re an idiot, Your Majesty .”

Goblet full, I reclined in my cushioned chair, watching my friend. Oristan’s arms were crossed and he had an infuriating smirk. “What now?” I asked.

“You let her go.” He didn’t have to specify the “her.”

“She didn’t want to stay here.”

“Did you ask her? Did you tell her to stay?”

Did I ask her? No, not exactly. Not other than the whispered promises we had made to each other in the dark—that we would never be happy in this life without the other. That we would be together. That I was hers as long as she wanted me .

“This isn’t her home,” I said. “She never wanted to come here in the first place. And you know it was too dangerous here for her. The skulls at the base of my throne are still wet.”

“You’re doing it again,” Oristan said in a sing-song voice. I waited for him to continue, because he would. “You finally found someone who made you become the Eldrin I knew you could be, and you pushed her away.”

“This isn’t her home,” I said more firmly, though doubt ringed through me. “What would the court do to her?”

“Nothing you couldn’t handle. You make all decrees now. I understand the last couple of weeks were rough, but you could have managed with her here. You never let her have the chance to stay, though, did you? A real one. You could have told her that you would hide her. Maybe there was a safer place near the barrier, and you could have made it so that she could have left if danger came too close. You know we could have figured something out.”

“I was not going to risk her life.” My fingers gripped my goblet’s stem.

“Or were you afraid of her saying no when faced with a real choice?”

I slammed the goblet on the table. “I need to rest.”

“Thought so.”

As I strode out of the room, my overcoat trailing behind me, Oristan called out, “I was there, Eldrin. I saw the two of you together. And if I had to bet, I don’t think the human world is her home anymore, either.”

I pushed Oristan and his nagging from my mind. I was good at that. A necessary skill, if he was your friend. Besides, what did Oristan know? He didn’t know Amber. He only met her a few times. How could he claim to know what she wanted better than me? Me, who loved her so much that my body ached with longing, her absence a wound that would never heal.

And what I told Amber the day she left was true—it wasn’t safe for her here after Vanir died. Those who sought the throne for themselves would have used her, and harmed her, to hurt me. To control me.

It didn’t matter that Vanir was gone. For Amber to be with me would mean giving up everything she knew. Once she decided to stay with me there was no going back, not if we wanted to keep the barrier intact for centuries, long enough to find a way to take us back home. Not unless we wanted to keep sacrificing ourselves to hold the barrier in place.

She would also have to make her own binding with the Woods if she wanted to fully share in my life here. There was no reason to think that it would demand a sacrifice of her flesh—I had asked the archivists after I took the throne—but she’d be tied to the Woods the same way as the rest of us.

Being with me would mean giving up everything of her world forever, and being burdened with the responsibilities of being with the king. She would have duties and obligations, her freedom gone forever.

I couldn’t think about what Oristan said. I didn’t have time to dwell on anything. I had a kingdom to rule.

“Your Majesty,” my steward said from his place next to my throne. The man’s black hair fell just below his jaw, bobbing with each word. “I have been asked to discuss with you the matter of the patrols. The former king never changed their structure from our prior home, but it may be worth considering if the routes should be altered. We are not expecting any of our old enemies—the Rulsaki are thousands of miles away now, and their numbers are much diminished. None of their large settlements came with them.”

I hummed in agreement, watching the petitioners lurk in the background of the hall. I could sit on this throne for centuries without a break and there would never be an end to the people who wanted to speak to me. “Yes, have the necessary reports sent to me. It is time to assume that we will be here for the foreseeable future, and thus any threats have changed. No point in wasting our resources on something that is no longer a concern.”

“Very good, Your Majesty.” My steward bowed and left .

I stood, having had enough of court for the day. Our land was now smaller, which meant that the troubles that plagued it were different. I couldn’t let myself think of what was happening to the Woods back at our old home—I would have to trust that my mother and brothers had kept it intact, and our family on the throne. And that throne filled by someone willing to step aside for me should the worlds ever reunite. Slowly, I stepped off the dais, preparing to leave the room. Elves moved back a respectful distance, letting me pass with a small bow.

Everyone but Lady Avalane.

Many things had changed, but her sense of timing had not.

Lady Avalane was wearing a low-cut gown, one that took a lot of restraint not to stare at out of reflex. With a boldness she never would’ve tried with Vanir, she moved between me and the doorway. “May I have a word, Your Majesty?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“In private.”

I looked around the room, at the elves who suddenly decided they had somewhere else to stand.

“Alright.” I moved around her and strode out of the hall, letting her follow. Once we were in the corridor, I said, “ Speak your intent.”

“I wanted to congratulate you properly,” Lady Avalane said, her steps keeping pace with mine. “Your reign will be one to admire for centuries.”

“Thank you.”

“And I noticed that you are without your family. And most of your prior…companions.” Ah, there it was. I knew she wasn’t here to merely give congratulations. There was an empty spot at my court, one that appealed to far too many opportunists.

“Yes, the rupture took a lot from many of us. I was not spared the loss.”

“You don’t have to,” she said. “That is, you don’t have to be alone. And we may be a smaller land than we used to be, but you will still need someone by your side that you can trust.”

At that I stopped and looked at her. Really looked at her. Lady Avalane was beautiful, and well connected, and clever. And desperate to seize power, but she made no secret about it. She was the ideal elven courtier, regal and distant, one who knew her own mind and how to make anything happen.

But I couldn’t help but imagine Amber’s face, smirking with amusement as she encountered the courtiers. Or the way Amber carried herself through the halls, like this was an adventure she was waiting to explore.

Or the way Amber held me and took me into her, like I was the only thing she had ever wanted or would want again. She was my ember. And now, without her, I was going to stay alone in the darkness .

“I appreciate your kindness, my lady,” I said, “but I think I will take solace in my own company for now.” I walked away, leaving the lady stunned.

If I couldn’t have Amber, I would never be content with anyone else. Because no one else could compare. And I would be damned before I betrayed my love for her in such a base manner.

Oristan was right—in letting Amber go without telling her how I felt—how I really felt—without fighting for a way for her to stay with me, I had made the biggest mistake of my existence. And there was nothing I could do to fix it.