Page 8 of Crown of Ellova: Vol 1

Concerned murmurs ripple through the crowd.

Two noblewomen drinking wine not far from me turn their heads to each other, lowering their voices. “Poor thing, King Jedrick. He won’t last much longer.”

“Any day now. Prince Grayden will make such a fine king,” the woman near her continues gleefully with adoring eyes at the prince.

“Long live the Fasaile line!” another shouts.

Jedrick coughs violently again, but this time when he pulls the handkerchief away from his face, it is stained with blood. Princess Lyrora leans in to look after her father, gently placing her hand over his arm in comfort.

Leon replaces the king’s bloody cloth with a new one, sympathetic eyes on the king.

Prince Grayden stands, not bothering to check on his father. The crowd is quiet and expectant, waiting for their prince to speak. Grayden is dressed in a fine black velvet shirt with a high collar that almost reaches his chin; it is heavily embroidered and falls to the tops of his slender thighs clad in black pants. The cost alone could have fed so many in Adreania, the neglect of his people sewn in every fiber.

“Noblemen,” Grayden begins, “ I come bearing sorrowful news of the kingdom to the north and Kalvorn’s careless disregard for your lives and the lives of your children.” Grayden takes a dramatic pause to rile up the crowd. “I met with King Zilias and his poor excuse for a queen! They are asheartlessas we knew they were. Three days ago, we met in the middle of the Elbasan Sea and Ipleadedwith King Zalias on behalf of our kingdom. Told him of our suffering, of the sickness, the barren land. How the children of Adreania go to bed hungry, our men have no work, the fields will all be but dust soon.” He moves around the dais. “I beseeched him for aid, medicine, food, for access to his libraries to search for a cure for the sickness. He declared he would send ships of food, Kalvorn’s best healers, but do you know what he wanted in return?” He half screams the last part.

The crowd shouts incoherently back at him.

Fear slithers like a snake coiling around my chest.

I know he is going to sayInara’s crown. How could he not? It was once the most magical item ever created.

It’s what Grayden wants, waiting for his father to die to claim it.

The Kalvornian king must know the legends of what that crown could once do, if on the right head, not the poor excuse for a king before me. How dare Grayden withhold something he has no right to claim at the suffering of his own people. A just ruler wouldhave given Kalvorn what they wanted to ensure his kingdom’s survival.

A servant passing by gives me an odd look and I soften my features to remove the disgust clearly written on my face.

Grayden’s voice is filled with rage, face red as he paces the stage. “HE WANTED THE CROWN!”

My hands start to shake and I slip them into my pockets.

“We will not be enslaved to the Kalvornian king! He claims all he wants to exchange to end our famine, heal our sick, is the crown. We will not give in! If they will not give us what we need most, then we will take it from them by force!” He lifts his arm in the air as the crowd’s cheers start to die. His smile is cruel when he adds, “As if he could wield the power of Drystan’s crown! Only men of the powerful Fasaile line can wear its glory!”

Grayden’s lies spill so easily over his tongue, or perhaps he truly believes it. If it didn’t mean an immediate execution, I would stand on my booth and ask Grayden why Inara, the original wearer, could wear the crown if it could only be worn by Fasaile male heirs when she was neither, but I keep the words to myself. Grayden’s lack of knowledge on how the crown actually works is probably the only reason his sister is safe from him.

All four of Grayden’s older brothers died mysteriously.

Princess Lyrora stares out at the crowd, appearing bored with her brother’s shrieks, and ignores his malice. She should be the ruler of Adreania, not her vile sibling.

The courtiers rapidly speak among one another in hushed tones. They know that any war will impact their leisurely lives; a war will bring with it fewer parties and fewer resources for them to take for themselves. Some are looking at each other, hands over mouths, doubt creeping into their faces at the likelihood Adreania would lose. Only a few shout back at the perceived injustices of Grayden’s venomous speech.

Surely to save his people, he could hand over the fae crown that sits upon his father’s head.

Kalvorn is a prosperous kingdom, one without poverty and illness. Their king and queen are rumored to be kind and generousrulers. Only a small mountain range separates Adreania and Kalvorn, but they are almost two different worlds.

Jedrick looks down at the floor at his son’s words; the once-golden circlet is flush on his head, gray and dull, devoid of the magic it held thousands of years ago when it sat upon Inara’s curls when she was crowned queen of the mortal kingdom, the gold illuminated with the type of magic only a fae could harness.

Now the crown is only a symbol of power, of what once was.

Grayden’s smile is vicious. “Do not worry, for I have found a way to bring back the magic! When I am king, Adreania will prosper again!”

The crowd goes silent, stunned expressions frozen on their faces.

“Once I restore the fae magic to the crown, we will have everything we need! You have never known such riches!”

Liar.

Such a fucking liar. The fae and their magic are just the subject of children’s stories to him.

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