Page 117 of The Realm That Falls to Her

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Ruskin’s deep voice rumbles against my neck, as he kisses his way along it, then travels down across my collarbone.

“I dreamed I was in bed with my husband, a ravishingly handsome king, and we didn’t have to go anywhere all day.”

My breath hitches on the last few words, as Ruskin’s mouth finds a particularly sensitive patch of skin and he turns his attention to it. His strong hands skirt the angles of my hips, tracing a familiar route across the planes of my body. I don’t think there’s an inch of me he hasn’t touched or kissed or stroked in the last twelve hours. Since we came home to the palace, every night has been a honeymoon, and every morning a battle to tear ourselves from each other’s sides.

“I have been known to make certain dreams come true,” Ruskin says, bracketing me with his arms, looking down at me with a mischievousness that’s almost totally irresistible.

Almost.

“Unfortunately, it will have to wait,” I say, wriggling out from underneath him, and sliding over to the edge of the bed.

“Says who?” Ruskin demands. He wraps his arm around my waist and tugs me back down so fast I laugh in surprise. “I’m the king,” he says, kissing me so soundly I nearly forget all my well-planned arguments. “I thought I made the rules around here.”

I extricate myself again, reluctantly.

“This was partly your idea,” I remind him. He groans and gives in, also rising from the bed so we can get ready for the day.

“I blame the Unseelie,” he says, as I rifle through my Destan-stocked wardrobe to find something suitable.

“Oh? And what’s their fault in all this?”

“It’s the way they do some things too well. It’s inspired me, given me ideas, and then I have to go and actually see those ideas through.”

I tut, playing along with his false exasperation. “How dare they. You’ll have to write a complaint to your uncle.”

Lisinder and Ruskin have been keeping up a steady correspondence, catching up for lost time, debating politics and philosophy, and making hundreds of plans to cement the peace—real peace—between the kingdoms.

As we get ready, I feel my nerves start to build. What we’re about to do is no small thing. If it goes as planned, it could change history, but it requires a certain leap of faith for all of us—me, Ruskin, the court, and the rest of the Seelie fae.

As we approach the throne room, I can see through the open doors that everyone has gathered as we requested, curious faces craning to watch our approach. My heart flutters against my ribs.

“You’ll be magnificent,” Ruskin says quietly, and I give him an appreciative look.

I feel all eyes on us as we walk to the center of the chamber, stopping short of the podium that leads to two thrones. I struggle to imagine myself ever sitting in the one meant for me. Happily, Ruskin doesn’t seem to have much of a taste for it either. Right now, however, we arrange ourselves on either side of a massive black stone—the same stone that once again carries Ruskin’s name, carefully concealed.

I doubt there’s anyone in the room who can’t feel the founding stone’s power. It throbs through you like a drum, causing the large crowd to hush. I found the stone’s power intimidating once, but now it’s oddly familiar. When I fought Evanthe, it saved us—and now we’re going to ask it to help the Seelie Kingdom once again.

I scan the room, taking comfort in the faces of my friends and allies. There’s Destan with Dreidana at his side—the Unseelie Low Fae he became close to during our stay there. He’s invited her to come visit him here at the palace, and I suspect he’s enjoying his family’s vocal disapproval of the match more than he should.

The one face I might miss is Dad’s, but I know he’s happy where he is. It took me a while to learn that Faerie is where I’m meant to be, but I knew all along it’s not where Dad should be. Instead, he’s back home in a warm, refurnished cottage in our village, where I can safely visit him, now that the seated king of Styrland has no interest in hunting me down.

“We’re here today because none of you have seen this before,” Ruskin announces, touching the stone. “The very foundation of the Seelie Court, the basis of this kingdom’s power, and it’s been hidden away from the fae who make up that kingdom. But from today, this stone will not just be for the monarchs, but for the court too.”

Some of the fae exchange intrigued looks, while others simply stare at the stone in awe.

“Lady Eleanor,” Ruskin says to me. “If you will proceed.”

I lick my lips, preparing myself. This better work.

I close my eyes, blocking out distractions, and focus on the stone. I reach out for the rich seams of augium running through it like veins. When I find them, I flood them with my magic, pushing pressure through the ore, until the stone begins to vibrate, just like how I made the Unseelie mountains shake.

A low humming gradually grows louder, the pressure I’m exerting reaching a level the stone cannot endure.

And then, in the blink of an eye, the pressure drops. An almighty crack rings through the chamber, and the stone splits in two right through the center. The break releases a huge wave of energy, one that I’m sure could knock us all flat, but it hits a wall of organic matter that wasn’t there a moment ago: a gnarled barrier of thick, interconnected trees, thrown up by Ruskin around the stone.

When the impact has passed, the trees Ruskin threw together disappear back beneath the earth as various voices start to murmur. Some sound indignant—others sound afraid. We’ve just done something unimaginable, right before everyone’s eyes, and we’re not finished yet.

I hold up my hands to the shocked, angry faces. “Please don’t worry, it won’t remain broken.”

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