Page 9 of Crown of Ellova: Vol 1

This is a new low for him and I fight the groan begging to be let loose at his absurd declaration. What he says is impossible. A ridiculous lie to receive support for this ill-fated war over a crown neither man can truly possess.

To promise the return of magic is utter nonsense.

CHAPTER 4

Grayden continues his hate-filled monologue. “Our spies have returned and we now know Kalvorn is readying their armies to come for the crown. They are preparing to invade since we will not bow down to them and give them what they want. We will fight! So tonight we celebrate and tomorrow we plan. Once I am king, a new era will rise!”

He raises an arm in the direction of his wife. “Not only will we have magic, we have your crown princess’s mother kingdom of Versairen on our side. We will not lose!”

Princess Erenia’s hands and jaw are so tightly clenched that I worry for the princess’s teeth. Part of her marriage treaty to Grayden dictates if one kingdom goes to war, the other must fight with them. Cheers follow him as he walks past her without a glance and leaves the dais. The music starts up again.

The thought of him becoming king, wearing the stolen fae crown only to pollute the land with his cruelty, fills me with sorrow. The people of Adreania are already going hungrier every season. King Jedrick may not be evil like his son but the soil struggles to produce a harvest. With each passing year, less and less grows. The land is dying, and its citizens suffer. Grayden will only bring more pain. He has no way to control magic; even if he couldaccess all the magic that has been stored in the crown for thousands of years, it would destroy him.

That amount of magic would drive him to madness in mere moments. His mortal form is incapable of surviving it. He should be grateful the magic is dormant for now, needing a fae to release it, or his line would have ended long ago.

Passed down from power-hungry father to power-hungry son, the crown sits like a stone on Jedrick’s head.

A woman with light brown hair who has been gossiping in the crowd close to my booth starts to gasp and cough, sending nearby courtiers into a frenzy to get away from her in fear she may have the sickness. A few others start to panic, looking around for the sound. I watch in horror as two guards go up to the coughing woman, ready to remove her.

“I just choked on my wine!” she gasps. “I’m not ill. Please don’t. I’m fine, truly!” Her terrified expression with the deep wheeze to her words makes the statement unconvincing.

The guards don’t seem to care whether it is an illness or an accident. Not stopping, they move towards her to force her outside.

I look frantically towards the dais for Leon. What will the guards do to a woman they suspect to be ill? Relief rushes into my chest at the sight of him jumping off the dais to the ballroom floor, abandoning his king’s side.

He takes long, powerful strides in our direction as guards roughly grab the woman. “Wait. WAIT!” The command in Leon’s voice stops my heart for a moment.

Leon comes up behind the guards, who pause, looking towards their king for clarification if the healer is to be obeyed. Jedrick gives a slow nod and they fall back a few steps.

“Let me check on her,” Leon demands. In a soft tone just for her, he says, “This way, please.” He offers a gentle, reassuring smile.

She tearfully nods, quick to follow him further into the room, closer to me. I suspect she would have called the other women friends before this moment, but now they make a show of getting out of her way. Off to the side near my booth, Leon asks forpermission to examine her and she agrees, tears streaming down her face.

“Can you lift your hair for me and turn around?” He gives her a reassuring look.

She does what he says, holding her breath, hands shaking. He checks her unblemished neck, which lacks the stark purple rash that would be spreading down the length of her spine were she afflicted.

“Nothing to worry about, no discoloration that I can see,” he says loudly to the small crowd. To her, he adds, “All is well. Return to the celebration. Perhaps avoid the wine.”

Her face crumples with relief before she throws her arms around him. Even whispers of the sickness would have caused her to lose her social standing. Undeserved jealousy burns bright within me for a moment but the coughing woman quickly pulls away from him, her eyes wide, perhaps realizing hugging the king’s personal healer is not something done in polite society.

“Thank you,” she says with a hiccup, pink coloring her cheeks.

The feeling of jealousy fades slightly when his eyes slide to me for a moment before he gives her a kind, uncomfortable smile and sends her on her way back to her friends. No matter how improper it was to show gratitude in that way, she still got to embrace him, even if it was just for a moment.

To wrap her arms around him and feel his warmth.

A touch denied to me.

Following the departure of the royal siblings, actors line up on the dais that has been transformed into a stage, musicians readying their instruments, signaling that the performance of the night is about to begin. King Jedrick sits off to one side to watch the performance. A retelling of his life to honor him.

Again.

Every bazaar, some play portrays the lives of past kings or Jedrick’s exaggerated greatness. It’s all a pile of fresh horseshit.

Servants move the massive candelabras towards the front to light the stage while the crowd moves closer for a better view. One of the actors in a large fake crown has fallen to the ground in atheatrical death, and the actor portraying a young Jedrick grabs the crown off the dead king, quickly placing it on himself while the crowd cheers.

Leon faces the stage, watching the play, for a moment before slowly turning towards me, and our eyes lock.

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