Page 61 of Kingdom of Ashes & Bone
Zariah didn’t answer, but tugged me toward the most recognizable quarter in the kingdom despite its complete annihilation. It was the only one turned completely to singed stones and ashes, after all.
The mud quarter.
Rough houses—actual houses—were in various stages of completion all around me. Instead of being set up in the cramped row we’d lived in before, they made a semi-circle around the edges of the quarter, leaving the middle rows as wide, open spaces. A large platform was almost complete in the middle.
“The king is overseeing the reconstruction of his home quarter personally,” Zariah informed me, pride in his voice. “The platform can be used for anything, you see? And around it will be an open market. Everything will be bright and lit, and beyond the market will be the public gardens. The houses you can see on the outskirts. He plans to build them large and airy.”
It was hard to suck air into my lungs while my throat was so tight with emotion. I fisted my hand in Zariah’s tunic, my knees weakening.
“Mari? Are you—”
“He gets to actually do it,” I whispered, more to myself than Zariah. “He gets to actually fucking do what he always wanted.”
Zariah softened. “Yeah. He does.”
The king was a man transformed up on the raised platform. He stood with Zariah and three Fireguards as they bent over a large set of blueprints. Zion’s nostrils flared as Zariah and I neared, and he turned around with a large grin on her face.
“There she is! Conqueror of dragons!”
I blushed madly. The king turned and raised one dark eyebrow as Zariah led me up the short steps to see everything for myself, dismissing the Fireguards who continued their conversation without him.
He opened his mouth, but Zion cut him off. “Not one word about her staying and us ruling. We won’t have it. We’re leaving before nightfall.”
The king’s lips pursed into a single line. “It is cruel indeed that when fate finally hands you the tools to your dreams, it also snatches away half of it.” His eyes flickered with emotion as Zariah and Zion proudly stood side by side, me in between them.
“I do not care who rules,” the king continued. “I want to finally spend time with my sons and get to raise my grandchildren.”
My jaw hit the floor even as Zariah’s arms squeezed my shoulders. Zion gave a wistful smile, but he didn’t back down.
“You know how the Nobles feel. You know how traumatized the people are. We refuse to hide anymore. And if one day Mari wants children—which is completely her choice—what do we do if they’re like us? I won’t have my child hidden away and thrashed like we were.”
Cold horror seeped through me at Zion’s implication, and Zariah’s tightening grip on me only confirmed it.
The king bent his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t change what happened. I—”
“We don’t blame you,” Zariah emphatically stated, cutting off his father. “We never have. It was no one’s fault but mother’s; we’re just telling you how it is. I’m sorry it can’t be different. The people here need a king and stability. Feel free to marry and give them another prince or even a princess to gush over. One without dragon blood in their veins.”
An image of Freesia wearing the queen’s crown flashed through my head. In it, she held up a swaddled newborn as the crowds cheered her on. It would be poetic and perfect.
It just couldn’t involve us.
The king huffed. “Women have caused much grief in my life.” He eyed me again. “Though I admit the circumstances were difficult. We shall see.”
Zariah smirked. “All I’m saying is we won’t begrudge you your happiness, just as you don’t begrudge ours.”
Zion rolled his eyes. “And who is to say we can never visit? Or write? This isn’t goodbye.”
Longing crossed the king’s face, twisting his features as he fought to keep his stoic expression. “Very well, then,” he said gruffly, stepping toward his sons. “Until we meet again.”
Zariah went first, letting go of me and seizing his father in a massive hug, wrapping his arms around the old king and squeezing as hard as he could. Silent, unshed tears leaked at the corners of their eyes as they rocked back and forth with each other. With a loud sniff they drew apart.
Zion was slightly more sedate as he hugged the king, but his fingers dug into his father’s back so hard his knuckles went white.
“We will visit and find a way to write. You’ll be sick of hearing my advice,” Zion choked out.
The king huffed. “Just like when you were seven and trying to tell the advisors what to do. Always full of advice.”
With a final slap on the back, they separated.
