Page 159 of Lovely Venom
Clap, clap, clap...
The flames crackling from the iron sconces cast our shadows on the jacquard walls.
Clap, clap, clap...
A dais draped in white gossamer with two tall golden candlesticks waits for us at the end of the aisle.
Clap, clap, clap...
And two crowns sit on a velvet platform.
We reach the table, and I scoop up the simple, woven golden crown that was also flown in from Valdrin’s grandfather’s treasures back in Albania. Everything came packed in a leather case that hadn’t been opened in almost fifty years.
My father bows to me so I can place it on his head. When he straightens, he’s not just gained more height from the crown with that thing on his head, heisthe king. The king Levin Berisha never was.
After Valdrin kisses my hand, he faces the council and a few very select guests.
“In the name of the bloodline that has ruled since the days of swords and horses,” he proclaims, his voice resonant, “I rise askyreof our people.”
The steadyclap clap clapremains. There are no cheers or confetti. Just a hum of respect.
“You are no longer ruled by thieves and liars. This crown is worn not only by birthright but by sacrifice.” Valdrin lifts the staff and signals for me to approach.
The clapping stops, and it’s the loudest silence I’ve ever known.
Valdrin drops to one knee, a sword raised above his head as he whispers a prayer in Albanian.
“I name Raina Riatt Sokolov, my daughter by blood, as your princess of this new kingdom.” My father’s voice is as steady and sharp as I have ever heard anyone address a room full of killers. “Raina is a warrior in her own right and will rule this brotherhood with me until I leave this world. Upon my death, I order that she be namedkyria,and her sons will rule after her.”
Sons. Whoa. Slow down.
With the mention of one day being a mother, my eyes drift to the man I will share those sons with.
Connor stands a few feet away, dressed in a tailoredblack ceremonial jacket and pressed slacks. At the far end of the grand hall, his brothers and cousins lookgobsmackedwith a mixture of awe and sheer terror of the new brotherhood they are seconds away from aligning themselves with.
A blood-red sash that crosses Connor’s chest marks him as my intended.
Valdrin’s eyes meet mine. His gaze is soft. Proud. He places both hands on my shoulders and then kisses my forehead.
When he lifts the circlet from my temple and replaces it with a steel coronet adorned with garnet and emeralds, a collective whoosh of large men kneeling on the stone floor sweeps across the hall. It’s so dramatic and beautiful, I blink through happy tears.
“Long live thekyre,” someone murmurs.
“Long live the princess,” others echo.
Then Valdrin turns to Connor.
“Step forward, Connor Quinlan.”
My fiancé does so steadily and unflinchingly. When he reaches me, he takes my hand, the one adorned with his hideously big diamond ring. His thumb grazes the inside of my wrist where he tattooed his name on the pulse point of my life. The place he kept his hand while an ambulance rushed me to the hospital after the poisoning.
“This man,” Valdrin announces, “stood by my daughter when others turned her away. He fought with her, bled for her, and nearly died for her. He’s proven himself worthy of the princess.”
I look up at Connor, and he gazes at me like I hung the stars. The world narrows to that one look between us.
“In our tradition,” Valdrin continues, “marriage is not just a vow, it’s a binding. Of power. Of the soul. Of legacy. Quinlan Empire is no longer our enemy, but ourcombined strength.”
A dagger with a jeweled hilt is placed between Connor and me on a velvet pillow.
