Crown of Blood and Ruin: A romantic fairy tale fantasy (The Broken Kingdoms #3)(7)

Then again, I’d not asked her. She chose me. I chose her. Did we need more?
I offered her a quick smile, then finished dressing. “See you soon.”
“Prepare yourself. Should you take too long or be too preoccupied after being gone for a week, I will kidnap you and toss you into dark corners just to put my hands on you.”
“I look forward to it. In fact, now I demand it.”
Elise tugged the thickest fur quilt beneath her chin, smiling as I left the room.
I didn’t need vows to know I loved Elise and wanted her at my side until my final breath. But I did want her as queen. A thought I couldn’t shake, as if it had been planted inside my chest by a power outside of myself.
Ettan queens could rule without the word of a king. They could declare war, invade, build townships, attend council. A consort could only take power if a king or queen were incapacitated in the mind or body. The reason Tor would be able to take the crown if he wanted. Sol was not himself; his mind was not his own.
Imprisoned, or gone for an extended absence, and a consort had little power in strategy. Decisions fell to the royal council.
My parents had once shared the crown as equals. I’d always admired them, the way they worked together. The way my mother raised the armies when my father was taken by the Timorans. They fell together. Never breaking to the end.
True, I did not plan to wear the crown forever. Sol would return; he had to. He’d take up his place as the rightful king.
But until then, Elise should be queen. I felt like a bleeding child for the knot of nerves gathering in my chest at the thought of asking her. I loved her, wanted her, and had no doubt she felt the same.
“What are you smiling about?” Ari asked, tipping back a horn from the table. He looked tired, but always had a sharp wit to his tongue. His eyes flicked to the fur over the bedroom doorway. “Never mind. I’d rather not know. Farewell, my dear Lady Elise!”
“Pleasant day, Ari,” she called back. “Although by taking him you have ruined mine!”
Ari grinned. “It is all part of my plan. Rid you of him, so I might make good on my threat to take vows with you.” He dodged my fist, laughing. “A jest, My King. A harmless jest.”
“I’m about to change my mind about taking your head.”
“It is such a pretty head.” Ari opened the door for me, his expression changing into something shadowed. “Forgive me for interrupting so early, but there are problems at the gates, Valen. They’ve weakened, and we’re having disputes over food rations. Fishermen feel they do the work, so they ought to get the greatest haul. Townsfolk think since they keep the bustle of our miserly refuge running, they ought to be afforded more grains and textiles.”
“Any severe arguments?”
“Nothing that would bring down the law, but some are getting close.”
I clenched and unclenched my fists. More folk entering our borders meant more troubles with rations and space. The people were bound to get a little unsettled and discontent. “Have Stieg and Halvar speak to the folk with complaints. I’ll see to the walls.”
Ari dipped his chin. “One more thing. Have you thought more about sending a party to the South?”
I faced the south walls barring Ruskig from the sea. The idea had merit—send a scout party to the Southern Kingdom in search of allies. I’d never been, but knew my own father once had relationships with underground folk in the kingdom, and some of the royal lines.
Still, it had been centuries. In all that time rumor of overthrows, divided folk, and unrest reached our shores. I didn’t even know who held the throne, mortal or fae. But the Southern Kingdom was said to be the kingdom most accepting of fury. A sort of birthplace of different Night Folk; nyks, forest folk, and mortal alike.
They might have answers I needed to help my brother. Truth be told, they might have stronger magic that could help us win this war.
Of course, if they had stronger magic, they could use it to take our land for themselves.
“If you still wore the crown, what would you do?” I asked.
He sighed, as if he considered each word of the question. Ari stood slightly taller than me but wasn’t as broad. He’d pierced the points of his ears in silver rings, and as he tucked pieces of his golden hair behind his ears, the glint brightened the kohl runes marking his cheeks.
The Ferus line stood to inherit the throne, but I still considered Ari Sekund?r a leader here.
Perhaps we did not begin as allies, but now, I trusted him as much as the Guild of Shade.
“The people of Etta are strong,” Ari said softly. “But if we do not extend the branch of friendship first, how long before Ravenspire does? It is a risk, My King. We do not know what faces us on the shores of the South, but if it were up to me, I would take the risk. There might be fury we do not have here.”
I asked my concern. “What is to keep them from overpowering us?”
He grinned slyly. “Our knives.”
True enough. Ruskig grew weary of those looking to oppress fury. The people would fight until they met the Otherworld if needed.
A risk. One I didn’t want to place on anyone, but such were the choices of a king. I placed a hand on Ari’s shoulder. “We’ll discuss it as a council.”
“As you say. I’ll go now to see if we can stop these petty battles over herring.”
Whenever I stepped into the center of Ruskig folk bowed; they greeted me with respect. I’d yet to grow accustomed to it. Thank the gods, I never walked alone long.
Tor and Casper joined me at a cart of linens and fabric dyes. Casper, always eating, plucked cloudberries from a branch in his hand. Tor’s jaw set, hard and unmovable. He never removed his weapon belt. Doubtless he bathed with it. As if a battle would begin at any moment.