Page 77 of Crown of Ellova: Vol 1

Dinner is waiting for us in the west wing. Tavien and Nueena sit close as we share with her our day and she describes the beautiful ship with her name carved in the seafaring wood.

She brought home fresh fish that the palace chefs cooked with caramelized onions and red peppers alongside a thick fish stew. We dine on bread baked with corn, crumbled white cheese, and leeks, our plates full of crunchy green beans and a mound of yellow rice. At the end of the meal, I reach for the shortbread cookies to smother in jam, but Tavien and Nueena look at each other with mischievous smiles.

“Actually,” Nueena says, “we have a special dessert.” A silver tray appears and she dramatically removes the lid, revealing four small strawberry tarts. A buttery, flaky pie crust at the bottom, with juicy strawberries lying in a bed of thick cream piped in a swirl. A small decorative leaf sits delicately on top of the sweet dessert.

Oh, please don’t be made from what I think you are.

“We call it Della’s tart. We didn’t want all those strawberries from the garden to go to waste.” Tavien presses his lips together to stop from laughing at his own joke.

Leon and I lock eyes as he tries to hide his own smile. “It does look delicious.”

His intense focus on me sends heat rising to my cheeks. Embarrassment wars with longing. Those little strawberries remind me of his hands on my hips and his lips brushing my hair as he kissed my forehead in the garden, of our confessions among the clovers, of his reassurance and patience.

A loud bang rings out and the potted rosebush behind him bursts open with a flash of emerald green and crimson as yet another unwanted strawberry plant grows before tumbling to the floor, a few of the fruits rolling away.

Laughter erupts around me, and through my mortification I find myself laughing too.

The following morning, Tavien’s family’s keyed sword arrives by one of his cousins, who thankfully assumed it was for him to wear at one of the coronation events and asked no questions.

I clear off one of the smaller tables and Tavien sets the package down to unwrap it. Nueena, Leon, and I gather around as the sword is revealed. It’s a stunning weapon with an onyx hilt.

I reach out my hand to touch it and a blast of invisible heat has me pulling my fingers back. Leon and Nueena are also met with a blistering warning.

“Typically keyed items are to a sole person, but this was forged by my great-grandfather, who ensured only his line and legacy can use it,” he tells Leon. “One day when there are no longer any Delwinns, the sword will choose a new wielder.” He picks it up and holds the blade to the sunlight streaming into the apothecary, admiring the workmanship.

Nunea slips off her Zemra stone that dangles on her neck. “My stone holds some of your magic. I wonder if it will let it near.” Tavien’s brows knit with worry as she slowly presses the stone to the blade. Nothing happens. She pulls the stone back, touching the sharp point. “No trace of heat. So the sword recognizes your magic within the stone but not when it’s on me. Fascinating.”

“The crown may be doing something similar, recognizing the Forger’s magic enough to let you wear it, but since you are neither the one it is keyed to nor the past wearer’s chosen successor, you are stuck in the in-between,” Tavien concludes.

“Lovely,” I say, the words dripping with despair.

Two sharp knocks strike the door and Lillan joins us, Viella at her heels. Lillian has no interest in the Delwinn’s family sword, but Viella gets close. “Keyed sword?” she asks.

“It is,” Tavien says.

Viella takes a step back. “It’s a beautiful weapon. I would love to beat Lillian with it in a sparring match.” Lillian opens her mouth to argue but Vi continues, “We have word from Aldreania. Grayden has officially declared that war is coming. He is publicly accusing King Zilias of Kalvorn of his father’s death. The king and queen of Kalvorn adamantly deny any involvement, of course.”

“How much time do we think it will take for war to start?” I ask, fear reaching into my chest. How much longer are those who live in Adreania safe from Grayden’s death sentence on the battlefield? I cannot let countless Adreanians die.

“He has every available man training, resources being compiled. Possibly months, but anything can happen. Adreania has not gone to war for many years. He has much to prepare for. Grayden is not a patient man. He will rush into this and it will not end well for his people. He wants that crown back and revenge for his father. It will make him rash,” Viella says with a frown.

I think back to Leon’s words.You would make a magnificent queen. Any kingdom would be extraordinarily lucky to have you lead them.

“Grayden would rather rule over rubble than give it up.” I take a deep breath. “If I were to try and stop this, if the mortals were tosupport my claim as queen, as crown wearer, what would I need to do? How can we stop him?”

They all stare at me.

Nueena is the first to speak. “Della, your safety needs to come first.”

“I know, and I do not want to be queen of Adreania, but to sit back and watch so many suffer at Grayden’s hands, that’s not something I can do anymore.” It may be the last thing I ever do.

Leon stares at me triumphantly and it sends a thrill within me. “We will come up with a foolproof plan, one that keeps you safe while taking back the throne.”

I turn to Nueena. “What about the Airvell River? The one ran through the Merawood Forest into Adreania. Zarella’s wedding gift to Inara, for the mortals. When they had the water, their crops flourished and their animals never got sick. Could we let it flow again? If I have the crown and bring them back the river, it may be enough for the mortals to turn on Grayden. He promised them magic. I could actually bring it.”

Nueena purses her lips with sympathy. “It's still there, just behind a dam. No matter how betrayed Zarella felt, she still wanted Inara to be in a prosperous and safe kingdom, so she reluctantly opened the river out of love for her best friend. During the war with Adreania, Zarella took the river back, vowing it would never flow freely there again. My mother would have restored the river if she could. Zarella put a powerful enchantment surrounding it. It would require more powerful magic than my mother or I possess.”

“Perhaps,” Tavien surmises, “if you could control the crown, it has enough magic to break the enchantments, but—” He lets his words fade away.

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