Page 82 of Claiming Glass

“The one who wears the Crown of the Dead rules Tal. The one who wears the Crown of the Dead rules us all. The one who wears the Crown of the Dead is the Head of the House of Herebov.”

Rada cut a thin line across my forehead, letting the blood drip down my face, then settled the glass crown on my brow, staining it red.

As he pressed his head to the ground, lightning charged through me. Magic flared inside me, while above, the wind furiously rattled the bones. A weight pressed down until I had to lock my knees. It sucked power through me. Consumed my Spirit. A great creature looked inside me and scoffed at what it found.

Then something snapped into place and the pressure eased.

“A king has been sent to the Goddess,” Morovara intoned, her voice carrying in the sudden silence. “Another rises.”

I faced the nobles and, like grass before the wind, they folded.

“For Tal!” they called.

I bowed to my citizens, answering, “For all.”

The Sigil Guild master waited to the side, ready to adjust my noble’s sigil. His magic surged through the lines, then it was done.

Until I gave it to another, the city and House belonged to me.

The first night of festivities passed in a blur of gift giving and people swearing their allegiance.

As the sun rose, I stepped out through the palace gates and the population of Tal greeted their new king.

There was no separating the joyous from angry cries.

My eyes sought Lowtown. There lay a woman I had thought I loved. One I had killed.

She had given me the strength to stand here. She had ripped my heart out of my chest, and I hoped to never get it back.

The untold masses’ needs stole away my own wants. I was no longer Dimitri, a man with his own desires and dreams. I was the King of Tal, City of Bones and Roses.

The weight of the crown pressed me into the ground, tying me to something far below.

At least it would be returned to the treasury until the wedding, and then I never had to wear it again.

Duty had to be enough.

Chapter twenty

Vanya

Death was not lonely.

Spirits, more than I ever imagined, compressed above and below. One drew me like the red pointer on Dimitri’s compass—no matter where I spun, there it was. The Other, who was also me, spoke in music I could not understand, the staccato and baritone vibrating through what used to be us. We could be one, like we had once been. I could feel it, like we were the high and low keys, only becoming a full melody when combined. Diffuse memories of sharing one mind drifted back. Of magic flowing with each heartbeat, the world bending around us.

There were no colors; still, somewhere close to me, a darkness pulled at my Spirit. The other new Spirits gathered around it, swirling until consumed.

Under my focus, it expanded, as if it had been waiting to pounce.

I needed to know it. Had been searching for it.

The Other pulled the other way and I almost knew. Almost—

Anger swirled from me and the others—so many, ancient and new. Death was supposed to be restful.

Then I was squished together, solidifying—

Then separated once more.Alone. If I could have screamed, I would have.

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