Page 73 of Enthralled

“Enough.”

Estrilde’s voice cuts off as though her vocal cords were snapped. She gapes up at her king from hollow eyes. She is utterly wretched and ugly, though her skeletal frame is still clad in that luxurious pink gown and dripping diamonds.

“My dear cousin,” Castien continues, his voice and presence filling up every square inch of this mighty hall, “you are hereby banished from Aurelis from now to the end of your days. I strip of you all titles and privileges of a princess of the Dawn. If you are found anywhere within the bounds of my kingdom by day’s end, your life is forfeit.”

Estrilde lets out a wail, tearing at the ragged strands of her hair. “Where am I to go, Castien?” she cries. “Where in Eledria is there a place for me?”

He shrugs. “Go to Noxaur. Seek asylum with Lord Vokarum; I understand the two of you are quite chummy. I’m sure he’ll find a place for you, perhaps in his Wild Hunt.”

A wretched shriek rips from her lips. At a gesture from Castien, her own guards swoop in from all sides, take her by the arms, and drag her away, still weeping, still pleading, and, at the very last, cursing. All eyes in that room watch her go until the double doors shut behind her. Then they snap, huge and staring, to fix upon their king.

Castien faces them, turning slowly in place as though to meet each gaze in turn. “Your king has returned,” he declares and holds out his arms. “Is there any here who wish to contest my rule?”

All the kneeling Lords and Ladies lift their heads. As though in one voice, they declare, “Long live King Castien! Long live Lodírhal’s heir!”Their chant rises, a pulsing song that ripples up the walls and rolls out through the high windows, carried across all Aurelis City. Soon I hear more voices taking up the cry from beyond the hall, until it seems the entire kingdom echoes with the sound.“The king has returned. Long live the king!”

Castien’s eyes meet mine at last. He holds out a hand to me. I go to him and stand by his side in the center of that hall. Fear weakens my knees, and I need the support of his hand at my waist to keep me upright. I’d never imagined myself as queen. I’m not right for this role, don’t deserve this honor. After all my many failures, why should I find myself now in this place, beside such a man? Happily Ever Afters belong to heroines, not problematic characters like myself.

But when I look into Castien’s eyes, I see nothing but love shining there. I may not deserve this, but what does that matter? The love he offers goes far beyond deserving. Besides, I can spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to become the kind of woman who merits such love. Maybe in the end, that’s enough.

I return his smile. Then I reach out and take Sis’s hand, pulling the girl to me in an embrace. As we stand there in the center of Biroris Hall, the chant of the crowd changes slightly and becomes:“Long live King Castien. Long live his queen!”

Khas steps forward suddenly and kneels before us. She offers up her sword to Castien, the blade resting across her flat palms. He takes it from her hands. “Rise, noble Khas,” he tells her. “You are no longer my subject, daughter of Valthurg.”

She obeys, getting slowly to her feet, her chains clattering. When she lifts her eyes, it’s my gaze she seeks. “Mixael?” she asks in a low growl.

“He’s home, Khas,” I answer at once. Tears cloud the edges of my vision. “Home in Vespre, waiting for you. You’re to go to him at once.”

Her face lights up in a smile brighter than all the golden light of dawn. And just for a moment every loss we’ve suffered, every terror we’ve faced, is made right in her unabashed joy.

“Oscar, look! It’s about to begin. Watch the pretty moths, sweetheart.”

My son yawns enormously and squirms in my arms, twisting his whole body in such impressive contortions, I very nearly drop him onto the hard platform steps.

“Here now, young man, none of that!” Castien gracefully swoops to my rescue, taking our miraculously boneless child and popping him up onto his shoulders. Oscar peals with laughter and pulls his father’s pointed ears, delighted at this new lofty view of goings on. I breathe a sigh of relief and straighten the front of my bodice, which chubby hands had pulled askew. I’m wearing a gown of soft seafoam green trimmed in delicate lavender flowers, wide at the neck, gathered just below my bust, with ample skirts to accommodate my swollen abdomen. Castien took one look at me when I put it on and told me it was quite unfair to the new queen of Valthurg for me to be seen out in public looking so ravishing. He’s a fool of course. But he also means it. Even the size of a small whale, I captivate his full attention.

I thread my arm through my husband’s elbow and lean against his shoulder, a smile on my lips. Truth be told, I’d be happy to squirm and fuss a little myself if it meant someone would take me home and tuck me into bed. The hour is late, and I’ve been working long days in preparation for my upcoming confinement.

But I couldn’t missHugag—the night of the Great Flight. It’s been many years now since the sacred moths crawled out from their subterranean cocoons and took wing for the starlit heavens above Vespre City. Throughout the seven years the island drifted on the Hinter, there was never a sign of them. Since King Anj’s ascension to the throne, he has been working tirelessly to reestablish anchors and bind the island back into conjunction with the rest of Eledria. Gates have been reestablished and new ones built, leading to every one of the Eledrian realms. All signs would indicate thehugagugwill return tonight, but we can only wait and watch and hope.

The crash and groan ofbugdurashmusic fills the air. Castien and I stand on a platform above the sacred circle of crystals, observing the dance taking place below. We are in company with King Anj and his bride, along with other noble guests from across Eledria. There was some resistance at first among the kings and queens against acknowledging Valthurg as a sovereign nation. King Anj benefited tremendously by the support he received from Aurelis, and he has not forgotten what he owes my husband. Thus we stand in a place of particular honor on the king’s right hand, in full view of all those gathered below.

I look around theGluronk, searching out the faces of my people in the crowd. Dig stands as close to the dancing circle as he can get, proudly watching Umog Hith, his young wife, as she performs the stomping, rolling steps of the circle dance with her fellow priestesses. I still can’t believe my boy is old enough to be married . . . and he won’t be the only one for long. Both Har and Calx have sweethearts of their own. I spot Calx a little farther back in the crowd, taller now even than big Har. He catches my eye across the way and flashes me a diamond-tooth grin.

Someone tugs at my sleeve. I turn and smile into Sis’s eyes, level with my own. She grins hugely at me and points to thegubdagogsdecorating the outer edges of theGluronkcircle. “That one’s mine,Mar,” she says proudly.

“And it’s the best one by far,” I tell her, though I’m certainly not one to judge.Gubdagogsremain as baffling a mystery to me as they ever were. But everyone says Sis is the most talentedgubdagoglirever trained under Umog Grush.PrincessSis, I should say, for she and her brothers were all officially adopted by Anj when he married theirmar.Who would have believed that a handful ofgrakanak-balja—orphans, without name or standing within their own community—would become such prominent members of troll society? It is certainly a new age for troll kind under King Anj and Queen Lir.

Sudden tension comes over the crowd. The music stops, and everyone stands with their eyes upraised to the moonlit sky. Waiting. Hoping. Will the moths emerge from their caves and fly once more? Is the city truly healed from all it endured? Between them, Anj and Castien have worked miracles to reestablish Valthurg’s standing among the realms. I’ve worked my own share of miracles as well, of a different but no less valuable kind, confronting and ending the existence of innumerable Noswraiths over the last two turns of the cycle. Sometimes the enormity of the task threatens to break me in two. But a night like this, brimming with so much hope and expectation, leads me to feel that it’s all so much more possible if only . . . if only . . .

The air erupts. All the trolls gathered round theGluronkopen their mouths and let out a single, simultaneous roar. Even though I’ve heard it once before, I cannot stifle a scream and clutch my husband’s arm. Little Oscar, by contrast, opens his mouth and joins the shout, his joyous voice melding with the chorus.

The next instant wings fill the air. Thehugagugmoths, emerged from their cocoons, crawl out from the depths of the earth and soar to the heavens, dancing together in perfect synchronization. They surround us, silken wings brushing our cheeks in delicate kisses before funneling skyward. Their wings catch the moonlight, reflect it back in myriad colors, dazzling to the eye. They’re thicker than ever, millions upon millions of them, blocking out the moon and the stars.

Then they’re gone, dispersed across the sky, making their way to some distant habitat. They’ll return at some point, of course, to lay their eggs. And the cycle will begin again. Renewed.

I breathe out a sigh, one hand pressed to my heart. The sensation of an intense gaze fixed upon me draws my attention. I look up to find my husband looking down at me, his eyes dancing. “Oh, Castien!” I sigh, blinking back tears. “Castien, wasn’t it beautiful?”

“Not bad,” he replies with a grin. “But I confess, I was rather distracted.” He leans down, Oscar squealing and gripping the hair on top of his head. He draws his mouth close to my ear. “No wonder Eledria has to offer can rival the sheer beauty of your face lit up with delight.”

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