Page 3 of Iris of the Crowned Flame

“I… I think that’s part of why they chose me. They know I don’t want to marry, ever. And Mother always found my refusal horrifying.” It’s not that I don’t like men. It’s just that men are always so busy with finding new ways to subjugate their wives, so I never wanted to be tied to one. Besides, I love Amyra. We could have made it if only the throne had gone to Ethan.

I reached for her face with both hands, gently holding her as we stared into each other’s eyes. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I do know I can’t live without you. I promise I’ll find a way for us if you are willing to stay, but I will never stop you if you decide you can’t do this.”

Her crystal blue eyes glistened with her love, tears threatening to spill down her pale cheeks. “Promise me, Lyla, you will never risk exile for me. I can’t bear that burden.”

Her smile betrayed the promise she wanted me to make. She didn’t want me to announce her as my love to the world. I understood why. Elthas was not kind to unwed women, and it has only gotten worse in recent years, as Councilors from the richest districts put more conservative men in their seats.

Ivy interrupted my thoughts. “No, Amyra, please, don’t make her promise to leave you behind. You two have a love so rare. I’m sure we could find a way to modify the expectations. Do we know the law says it must be one man and one woman? Maybe it’s just any marriage to anyone that is required.”

I broke my stare with Amyra to face Ivy. She meant well, but was only making this harder. She knew that marriage between women wouldn’t fly for our regular citizens, let alone for the future Queen. “It is explicit. I checked when I first realized I love Amyra. There is no legal way…”

“But there are illegal ways! So many of the men take theirmistresses. Half the halls are filled with mistresses and ladies of questionable origin. Surely, you could take one too?” Ivy points out.

I hadn’t dared to think this way before. Men always had the freedom to visit other beds. Only when these situations produced children did they ruin lower-standing men and cause high-ranking men to take leave for their farms, bribing their wives into silence and hiding illegitimate children. Amyra and I couldn’t meet that ending. Maybe there is an idea there.

I turned back to Amyra. If I asked her to be my mistress, I could ruin her ability to have her own family. We had shared many dreams about our children running and playing together, raising them as siblings together.

She didn’t let me ask. “Lyla, I will stay by your side for all of eternity. You are my heart, my everything. I would give everything up for your happiness. I just won’t give up your reputation. Please don’t ask me to sacrifice you. If you take this throne, and you marry a man, you could change the Council, and then change the laws, and allow others to live more freely than we have ever imagined. You are the change the country needs.”

I nodded, too moved to speak. She was too good for me. They both were.

I took a few breaths to compose myself. “I love you too, Amyra. And I need you to have your own life. If you won’t let me give up mine, I can’t let you give up yours.”

Amyra grasped my hands and pulled them to her lap. “We will find a way, as long as you rule the country.”

Ivy jumped up. “Well, that’s it. Now we need to find a way to pick a husband that won’t mind being second fiddle. Should be easy, right?”

“As easy as putting out a fire with my mind,” I replied with a dry smile. Nothing about this would be easy. But finding a way to keep Amyra in my life, and maybe to set her up to have her family, would always be worth the effort.

Ivy made her way to my closet. “Well, youhave an important meeting to go to after lunch, so let’s talk strategy while we get you ready to show those Councilors that you will be a Queen worth following.”

Amyra moved towards my vanity and started digging through the cabinet next to it where all of my accessories were stored. The two of them moved with such efficiency. Within minutes, Ivy had picked out a deep navy dress, made with capped sleeves and minimal decoration, one of my only dresses within the acceptable mourning colors. She came back into the room just as Amyra turned around with two pieces of jewelry. She had picked out a delicate gold necklace with a small crescent pendant made from lapis lazuli, which always stood out stunningly against my warm ivory skin. She also held a golden circlet, with matching lapis lazuli chips sprinkled through it. The two helped me to dress, and then I sat down at the vanity while Amyra started arranging my straight brown hair with braids to secure the circlet in place.

All the while, they fired off increasingly ridiculous ideas about how to find a man who wouldn't limit my relationship with Amyra. Most of the ideas they had were quite impractical, ranging from death battles to sending them on quests to find mythical objects from our fairy tales. There were two ideas that could have merit, though, and I tucked them into my proverbial pocket, ready to use them if needed. By the time a courtier brought lunch to my chambers, I was ready for the meeting, and even comfortable seeing all the nobility in the castle, knowing the gossip and hushed whispers that accompany them.

CHAPTER 3

Father and Ethan were waiting for me in the hallway outside the Council’s conference chambers. The halls were otherwise empty, showing the councilors were all inside already. Father’s crystal-blue eyes, so much like Ethan’s, held none of their warmth, now distant beneath the weight of grief. His short black hair, always neatly groomed, added to the severe lines of his face, sharp and imposing, like a man carved from stone rather than flesh.

Father was wearing what he called his “working crown”, a simple metal band made of silver leaves. It was the least ornate type for men, and the one he wore any time he had to decide for the kingdom. He always told us the weight of the crown helped him to remember that his choices shaped the future in ways we can never fully predict. Both men were otherwise dressed in simple black clothing, wearing long sleeves despite the heat of the day.

They stood there in deep, but particularly quiet, conversation. I paused in front of a mirror near them, checking my appearance. I hated that I had to care about how I looked right now, hated that this moment demanded poise instead of mourning. Nevertheless, I straightened my shoulders and took in my reflection with a hard, hollow gaze. My long, straight brown hair, streaked with golden highlights, had been braided andpinned neatly beneath the gold circlet, the chips of lapis lazuli catching the light like tiny shards of sky. The deep navy dress Ivy had chosen contrasted against my warm ivory skin, giving me the somber appearance they all expected of me. Around my neck, the delicate gold necklace sat like a chain, beautiful but binding.

My eyes, brown with just a hint of red beneath the surface, caught the light in a way that made the crimson glint show more clearly. Mother used to say she loved that about me, how the red in my eyes always burned brighter when my emotions were strong. I swallowed hard, the memory sharp and unwelcome, but I couldn’t look away. Now, all I could see was the fire of my grief, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. I looked too composed for someone whose world had just been ripped apart. Maybe that was what they wanted to see. A queen in waiting, already hardened, already shaped by grief into something useful. I swallowed down the bitter taste rising in my throat and forced myself to stand taller, wrapping my sorrow and my fury tightly around me like armor.

This meeting would determine whether the Council supports my ascension, and I needed their support to delay the wedding. The law doesn’t allow for coronation until after I am married, and we have never gone over three months without both a king and queen. Three months to find and accept a man to be my husband was far too fast for my liking, no matter who the man might be.

“Are you ready?” Ethan asked, trying to break the silence between us.

I nodded. “As ready as I can be. What about you?”

Glancing at his face through the mirror, I pretended to adjust a tendril of my hair. His dark brown brows furrowed and his jaw clenched. He pressed his lips together, trying to hold back his emotions.

“I’m always ready to support you, Lyla. Always.” He gave a tight nod back to me.

I turned to face Father. “Any last words of wisdom?”

“You look so much like your mother when we went into theCouncil for the first time to claim her throne.” His eyes watered, threatening to spill for a moment, before anger replaced his nostalgia. His back stiffened, jaw clicked into place, and he cleared his throat. “We will go in, I’ll announce you as the next queen. They will question you about the suitors you have and expect a timeline for marriage. Remember your history and provide them with a proposal they can’t refuse. Do you have a plan?”

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