Page 26 of Crown of Ellova: Vol 1

“It feels like a horse has decided to make war inside my skull. We can’t do anything to remove it?” Pressure builds in my head, so painful I feel I might pop like a bubble.

He shakes his head. “I’m afraid magical crowns on unsuspecting women were never covered in my medical training, but I’ll write a strongly worded letter to the university about the lapse in my education.”

It takes me a moment to see that he’s making a joke. I laugh even though it hurts to do so. His eyes go a little wider as he looks at my lips and then back to my eyes after he must have realized where he was looking.

“What does it feel like?” Leon asks. “Besides the pain, I mean, can you feel anything? I once asked Jedrick what it felt like and hesaid he felt a slight pressure on his head, only feeling pain if it was pulled. I’m curious if the reason it’s now gold upon your head but was black on his is the reason it’s so much more painful for you. Something has happened. It could be because the transfer ceremony from father to son never happened.”

I stop walking abruptly, so he holds me tighter to prevent me from falling. I gape at him. “Is it gold? Truly?”

He nods at the question. “Yes, it has changed from black to a rosy-gold color, very much like your hair. It almost matches. It will be easy to hide, and youmust hide it.” He stresses the words. “No one can know you have it. That’s why we must get as far away from Adreania as we can.”

I’m tempted to say that the king’s transfer ceremony is only needed because the crown was stolen, but it would not be wise to give away any knowledge of it just yet. He may be the man I've spent my nights lusting after, but that does not mean I know where his loyalty lies now that his king is gone. No matter how much I wish to trust him, years in service to the stolen crown may mean he’s loyal to Jedrick even in death, although I can’t see him being loyal to Grayden in any way…

“It’s just a pressure, like part of my body is underwater, trapped and begging to be released.” A wave of exhaustion hits me, forcing me to lean on him even more.

He smells like blood and dirt, but underneath is the scent of his sweet herbs. I inhale deeply, leaning a little more into him. We keep walking. He looks deep in concentration, so I don’t try to keep a conversation going. Just beyond the trees, the cottage is tucked away in a sea of sessile oaks. My feet stumble a moment, suddenly unsure if bringing him here was a good idea. He’s going to realize I’ve been lying about so much of what he knows about me. Honestly, it is not something I’m sure I’m ready to share with him yet. It felt so safe in the castle, just him and me with my jewelry table between us. Trusting him is a necessity, though; he is wounded and I can barely stand.

“Here it is,” I say, trying to keep the apprehension out of my voice.

Slightly off to the side of my family’s cottage is the workshop. It’s made of stone, and even with the doors shut, the ever-burning blue flames of the forge glows brightly. The small workshop is shaped similarly to my home, but with more stone and white walls. My small crystal-clear pond sparkles in the distance.

The cottage itself looks as if it were designed by multiple builders who never spoke to each other during construction. The first floor is built with red and light brown bricks. One side has square windows while the other side’s window is a large circle. A tower comes up from the middle, and a spiral staircase leads up to a tiny library in the loft space. My favorite part is the twisted brick chimney off to the side of the pointed roof, the steep angle covered in Ellovian sugar pine wood panels painted in soft pinks, greens, and blues.

He looks around at my family’s home. This small cottage is nestled among the woodland, in the middle of dense, lush green trees, with flat, brightly-colored stepping stones that somewhat match the roof leading up the path to my front door.

A small flag waves in the wind. It bears the Kingdom of Ellova’s crest—a tree with six roots, and a large sun behind it. He glances at the flag but doesn’t speak on it.

I adore my little cottage, my own personal woodland sanctuary. The Ellovian palace is extraordinary, and home to everyone I love, but here I find peace. I can’t stay, though. It won’t be safe after tonight, too close to Grayden, who will come looking for the crown. An ache unrelated to the crown hits my chest, knowing tomorrow I will need to remain at the Ellovian palace until this place is safe once more.

“Come on.” I pull on his hand and we walk inside my small home. Faint moonbeams stream in through the huge glass skylight in the ceiling.

“Is anyone else here?”

“No, it’s just us.” Farren waits on a windowsill, watching our arrival with a bored expression, as his food bowl sits empty on the floor below him. He stares for a long time at Leon before looking at me.

The cottage holds no evidence of children or even a husband for that matter. Leon must notice, but he says nothing.

I can always lie when he does inquire of them, but I’m weary of speaking even one more lie when the truth is what he has always deserved.

The space inside has no dividing walls, just golden spiral stairs leading up to the library. Piles of books overflow from the shelves in the small tower library above. A small kitchen is to the right, its windows looking out over the workshop. Chairs stand around a wooden table set for three. Off to the side, there are steps down to a small washroom with a below-ground pool for bathing. A hand-carved side table I won in a palace card game is tucked next to a wide bed, and the stone wall overflows with hanging jewelry I was working on before bed.

An elegant golden mirror hangs next to the door, and I swiftly walk past it without a glance, not ready to see the crown on my head and what it symbolizes for my future.

Best to ignore it for now.

I did not leave that long ago, but it feels like days have passed. I break away from him and make my way to the kitchen, where I pull down a few gold teacups I made long ago. Once I fill the kettle, I open the cellar door and take a few steps into its magically chilled depths to grab blackberry wine off the shelves built into the packed soil. Leon peers down at me and takes the dark bottle I pass up to him.

“Please say this is wine.” He holds the bare bottle up to the light.

“Blackberry wine. After the night we have had, we are going to need something stronger than tea.”

He lets out a short laugh. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

I grab the spiced chicken marinating in a bowl and hand it to Leon, along with a tin of small cookies I brought back from the palace kitchens a few days ago. Leon’s hand appears above in my peripheral vision and I slip mine into his, glad of his assistance to make it the rest of the way up. My well-used copper pan hangs above the sink and I set it on the stove before getting the fire beneath it burning and adding a dollop of butter.

While it heats, I pick up the tin of cookies and open it with a softpop, offering the treat to Leon. Our fingers brush as he takes a cookie, and he lingers for a moment.

“What is this?” he asks.

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