Page 12 of A War of Crowns

The signet ring bearing the golden sun of the Lord on High on his right hand seemed to gleam with a light all its own. Seraphina offered the Shepherd her arm so he might bestow upon her the Lord’s blessing before she left.

And when his fingers alighted upon her wrist, the familiar and calming sensation of the Lord immediately greeted her—like the brush of the summer sun unfurling against her skin.

It was a glow she wished she could bask in for the rest of the day, but the sheer number of things she still had to accomplish weighed upon her far too heavily for her to indulge in such a thing. As ever, though, she felt a little lighter in spirit even once that warmth had dissipated, as though the Lord had claimed some of her burdens for His own.

The guards posted by the exit leading out of her council chamber opened the double doors for her departure, revealing the corridor beyond. When she stepped out into that hallway, the space erupted in a flash of color—silks and jewels all agleam—when herladies-in-waiting rose from where they had been seated so as to join her entourage.

She locked eyes with Duchess Edith and spared her godmother a little smile before returning her attention to Duke Percival. Her godfather was collecting his varhound, Rogue, from where the great, white-furred beast had been sitting outside the council chambers all that time like the good boy he was.

Though many in the royal court still balked at the sight of those monstrously large dogs almost every member of House Umberly kept for pets in order to protect themselves from the dire bears for which their home duchy of Varoa was infamous, Seraphina had grown more than used to the varhounds over the years. Especially after all the Wintertides she had spent up north with the Umberlys after the death of her mother.

Duke Percival and Duchess Edith had always treated her like one of their own.

When her gaze finally locked sidelong with Duke Percival, her godfather conjured a dry smile for her. He soon fell into his usual place at her left elbow with Rogue in tow.

“Worry not, Your Majesty,” he murmured for her ears alone as they all began their promenade back to her chambers with her Queensguard fanning out around them and marching behind. “I do not think any of the other lords detected your bluff.”

Well, at least that is something, Seraphina wryly mused to herself. There was no point in wasting her breath on voicing such an observation aloud, though, while she waited for the latest lecture from her godfather-turned-Lord-Chancellorto begin.

As ever, he did not keep her waiting for long.

“Though I wish you would stop baiting His Grace,” Duke Percival added from behind clenched teeth. The tap-tap-tap of his cane punctuated each word. “One of these days, he might very well take your bait and spit it back in your face, and there will be nothing at all I can do about it.” Breathing out a heavy sigh, her godfather muttered under his breath, “You and that tongue of yours are going to be the death of me, child.”

Duchess Edith quietly interjected, “Oh, please. Her Majesty is simply saying what we are all thinking, Percy.”

Duke Percival made a face at that.

Biting back a chuckle, Seraphina suggested to her godfather, “Then why don’t you just letmeworry about the Duke of Coreto, while you worry about…” She vaguely waved her hand through the air, letting that gesture fill in the blanks.

“Everything else?” Duke Percival grumped.

Before Seraphina could part her lips to offer any sort of retort, a sudden hiss lured her gaze upward just in time to see a flurry of iridescent scales and feathers shooting through the air toward her.

Though she spied out of the corner of her eye her godparents flinching at the sight of the usuru flying full-tilt for her person, Seraphina simply accepted the sudden weight of the winged serpent twining itself around her shoulders with a far softer smile. “Hello, Alyx,” she murmured under her breath to the creature nestling against her throat.

The usuru purred in reply.

Red-faced and panting, one of her guardsmen—Radcliffe, was it?—finished his jog down the corridor toward her and her entourage before he stopped and swept into a low bow. “Pardon me…Your Majesty…” he gasped in between shallow breaths. “She’s a slippery one…been hissing the whole time you were…in council…”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” Seraphina reassured as she reached up to rub the tip of her finger underneath Alyx’s scaled head. “Iwouldjust let her come to council with me if I could trust she would not make a scene.”

She had learned the hard way the last time she had tried to bring the feisty little usuru along to a meeting that she could certainlynottrust her in that regard.

Duchess Edith chuckled and recalled, “At least that was the most entertaining council meeting I’ve personally witnessed. Though, granted, I have not been to many.”

Duke Percival grunted. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. An usuru is not a fit companion for your esteemed personage, Your Majesty.”

“Oh?” Seraphina leaned around Duke Percival to gift her godmother a quick kiss against a powdered cheek. “You will always be allowed at my council meetings, Your Grace,” she promised Duchess Edith before she tossed a look back to Duke Percival and asked, “Shall I adopt the Umberly fashion of being stalked through the palace by a varhound, then?”

Duke Percival stamped his cane against the floor. “You know you’d have the pick of any litter.”

With a shake of her head, Seraphina insisted, “This usuru suits me just fine, thank you.”

Alyx had chosen her, after all.

When this particular usuru had first flown into Goldreach and tumbled into the palace in a mess of blood-spattered scales and glass, Master Lyndone, the Keeper of the Royal Roost, had said it was a miracle she had even made it across the Straight.

Alyxhad been the name embroidered on the harness strapping the messy missive to the usuru’s scaled body—dark words of Arath’s betrayal carried upon shimmering wings.

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