Page 86 of The Fated and the Damned
A door opened behind us and Laszlo bounded in, his tail knocking Eszter’s sewing supplies onto the floor. “Hey boy,” I said, smiling at his golden-brown eyes. “What do you think? Is it time to be crowned?”
He uttered a soft ‘wuff’ and I scratched him behind the ears, giving him all the love. Margit entered, looking a little frazzled as she frowned at my furry companion. “Please tell me you’re not bringing the dog to the ceremony.”
I grinned, happy to see my friend. Since the battle, she’d had no visions and there was a healthy glow about her skin. I’d warrant she’d never slept better—and it was showing.
“Of course he’s coming! I’ve got to have my best boy in attendance.”
She rolled her eyes, a small smile quirking her lips. “Look, if it means getting you out of this room, then by all means bring the excitable mutt. You can’t hide in here forever.”
“I’m not hiding,” I said indignantly. “Just … going out there makes it all real, you know? Why do I even need a coronation? It seems so pompous and unnecessary.”
“If I recall,” Margit said slowly, “you’re the one who suggested crowning sovereigns for each clan and coven territory as a bargaining chip for getting the covens on our side in the first place.”
Oh right. I’d forgotten about that little bribery. But since the humans had turned on us, it felt right crowning territories by our own magical rule, rather than answering to a human king to whom we owed no allegiance.
“Okay, fine, you might be right, but—”
“But nothing,” Margit said with a click of her tongue. “Mistvellen is the largest city populated by táltosok and witches in the Kingdom of Hungary. You made this peace possible. You’re going out there.”
She tugged my sleeve and I let her pull me up, huffing out a breath. “Fiiine. But if everyone starts bowing again, we’re going to have problems.”
“Out. Now.”
Eszter laughed, her brown curls bouncing. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I groaned. “Let’s get this over with.”
To Margit and Eszter’s credit, the vast hall where the coronation was being held was utterly breathtaking as we stepped through the doors. Vines wrapped around pillars and flowers in whites and purples hung in garlands draping from the high ceiling. Candles littered corners and lined a carpet running the length of the hall to the dais at the end.
The dais, where my husband stood proudly, his dark hair gleaming with streaks of red in the light of the sun’s rays streaming through arched windows. The light made it appear as if he was already crowned, his olive skin glowing. He popped a dimple—bastard—and gave me a knowing smile.
I straightened my shoulders, feeling bolstered by that simple act of encouragement, and began the long walk to the dais, refraining from rolling my eyes as everyone bowed when I passed them. Gods dammit. My hands trembled, but I held them clasped before me until someone joined my side, looping an arm through mine.
András nodded, his blond hair shining and his green eyes glittering with amusement as he guided me down the hall. An honour. It was an honour to be escorted by this man who’d given nothing short of everything since I’d first walked through the doors of this castle.
The smiling faces of friends and allies were blurry as we passed, but I nodded and smiled to all of them. They deserved nothing less than my utmost respect for all they had sacrificed.
Every step seemed to boom in time with the frantic beating of my heart and, when I reached the dais, I all but sagged as I turned and András placed my hand in Dante’s. We kneeled together and his thumb rubbed soothing circles on my palm, my body relaxing slightly at his touch.
I’d recited the words many times in anticipation for the ceremony, but when Erika stepped forward, I nearly jolted in surprise and relief. We didn’t have archbishops or priests, so I nearly wept with joy to find a friendly face conducting the ceremony—someone I trusted with my whole heart.
She smiled, her dark brown eyes glimmering. When she began, I found myself speaking without really needing to think at all. It was only when a page boy handed her a red cushion with a crown on it that I sucked in a breath.
A silver crown inlaid with rubies. Simple, yet elegant. It suited Dante perfectly.
“Speak your truth to the gods and their denizens, so they may bless you with this gift.”
“I, Dante Sándor, swear upon my father and his father before him, to protect these lands, honour thy people and rule with a just hand.”
He leaned forward and Erika smiled as she placed the crown upon his head. “By the gods’ grace, so shall it be.”
Another page boy stepped forward, this time with a dainty silver crown with swirling lines shaped like little flowers, sapphires inlaid into the metal—sapphires exactly like the pendant lying between my breasts, gifted to me by Dante.
My heart could have burst with the love I held for him. He’d been thoughtful from the start, even if my stubborn, pig-headed brain had taken a while to see that. So, when Erika bid me to recite the same lines, her arms stretching out to place that crown upon my head, he squeezed my hand hard enough to hurt, distracting me from the utter fear filling my being.
Because the thought of another crown being placed on my head was nearly enough for me to break down sobbing in front of the gathered crowd. My cheeks heated—not from embarrassment, but from fear. Sweat beaded on my upper lip, the walls seeming to close in as my limbs failed to move. I licked my lips, willing myself to breathe and forcing myself tomove.
My hand trembled in Dante’s and he squeezed harder still, grounding me, instilling all his love into that simple touch. With a shaky breath, I nodded, bent my neck and bit my lip as the cool metal settled on my head.
