Fated Crown by Eva Chase
Chapter Twenty-Six
Talia
I’ve never seen so many fae gathered together in one place, not even for Sylas’s coronation festivities.
We’re holding tonight’s ceremony in the same place—in the sprawling field around the Heart on the summer side of the border—and that entire space is filled with figures turned toward me with eager eyes. More are standing amid the trees along the edges of the field. There are even ravens perched in the branches and circling overhead to watch the proceedings from where they can get a better view.
It’s a little startling to see how many of the Unseelie have crossed the border to witness the ceremony. They’re not mingling with the Seelie all that much yet, mostly keeping to one section of the field, but I haven’t noticed any hostile glances or words exchanged.
Tonight is about the unity between summer and winter symbolized in me, and everything about the event so far speaks of the healing divide between the realms.
At this point, there hasn’t been much to see except me where I’m perched on a chair on the platform built for the ceremony, right in front of the Heart. Its rhythmic energy washes over me, and its glow casts a golden light over the darkening forest. Beaming orbs shine along the edges of the field and float over the crowd. The breeze, pleasantly warm, tickles over me with a soft scent of clover. I couldn’t have asked for a more peaceful atmosphere for this moment.
Harper darts up onto the platform next to me and runs her fingers over the lacy sleeve of the dress she designed for this occasion. It doesn’t cover the scars on my shoulder so much as turn them into part of the intricate pattern—into something almost beautiful. I think it’s the most amazing gown she’s crafted yet.
“Seeing you in this light, I can’t help thinking I should have added a little more sheen to the skirt,” she mutters, never totally satisfied with her own work.
I laugh. “It’s a little late for adjustments, isn’t it? It’s already spectacular. I’ll be surprised if you don’t have a hundred orders by the end of the night.”
Her cheeks flush, and she ducks her head bashfully. “I’ve actually already gotten a few.”
Knowing her typical modesty, that means she’s had at least a dozen requests. I squeeze her hand. “That’s wonderful. I talked to Corwin about some of that fabric you were hoping to experiment with—the weavers from the domain that specializes in it should have a shipment to us in the next week.”
“Oh, perfect.” She claps her hands together with so much excitement I have to grin. Then she shakes herself. “But never mind about me. This evening is about you.” Her gaze darts to our audience. “I shouldn’t even be up here.”
“It’s fine. My arch-lords had some special arrangements they needed to finish up.” I have no idea what Corwin and Sylas were up to, only that it required some intense discussions with the other arch-lords this morning. “Is the man you have your eye on here tonight? You should at least ask him to dance.”
Harper’s flush deepens. “No, I—I couldn’t. It’s silly.” Her hands twitch over her own dress. It has a sleeker skirt and fewer embellishments than mine but still an eye-catching design that brings to mind a rushing waterfall.
I make a dismissive sound. “It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it? I want to see everyone else happy tonight too.”
She gives me a bright smile. “I will be happy because you are. Everything else—it’ll happen as it’s meant to be in time, I’m sure.”
I wish I had that same sense of faith. But at least today, it does feel as if everything is coming together as it ought to be.
As Harper slips back into the crowd, I spot Corwin’s colleagues in a tight cluster near the other end of the platform. Besides Neve, who’s wearing her usual vague expression, none of the arch-lords look exactly pleased, but they don’t appear to be as sour about the event as I was worried they’d be. I might even see a flicker of a smile cross Terisse’s face at one point.
My gaze catches Laoni’s for just a second, and she offers me the slightest nod like she did a week ago outside the border castle, her expression staying impassive. Since that day when I healed her and she called back the assault on my castle, she hasn’t been anywhere near warm. But she seems to have accepted that I’m here to stay in the fae world and that it isn’t a bad thing.
She even told Corwin that he should encourage the Seelie to get on with this ceremony—that if we’re going to insist on doing things in such a strange way, we should hurry up and make it official. The corners of my mouth twitch upward at the memory of her exasperated tone.
Donovan and Celia are standing near them, looking more relaxed. Donovan is chatting animatedly with one of his cadre-chosen, his bright hair dancing like a flame in the undulating glow of the Heart.
Tomorrow I can get started on the work I want to do here for myself and those like me. Donovan has agreed to make a public announcement that he’ll be offering many more freedoms to the humans in his domain, and I’m going to help determine what would be best for each of his servants.
If we can convince Celia and Neve to follow suit after that, tackling the other three arch-lords might not be so difficult. Maybe they’ll want to stop relying on human servitude now that they’ve seen how much frustration just one human can cause them. Who knows what chaos might be brought by the next human who ends up here?
My amused thoughts fall to the wayside at the movement of four striking figures through the crowd.
My lovers have dressed up in as much finery as I have for this occasion. Sylas’s gold-embroidered jacket and slacks are a deep burgundy that brings out the purple in his dark hair. Whitt has gone with a sapphire-blue that makes his eyes gleam even more brightly. August looks a bit uncomfortable in the formal clothes, but the supple maroon fabric shows off his muscular form to great effect. And Corwin, my wintry raven, is perfectly elegant among them in pale blue and silver.
My heart thumps faster, but it’s more excitement than anxiety. Nothing else can go wrong in the little time that’s left before the ceremony begins, can it? This is actually happening.
I don’t know what my life will be like a month from now, let alone years, and the curse still casts its shadow over both realms. But no matter what else happens, I’ll have my four men as my mates.
From what Whitt told me, regular mating ceremonies where there’s no soul-twined bond aren’t usually this elaborate or public. Still, he and my other Seelie men felt that it was important to make a clear statement about their commitment to me in front of their subjects and whoever of the winter realm would join us. I definitely won’t mind if the public declaration makes it less likely that more fae ladies will make passes at them hoping to catch the new arch-lord’s or one of his cadre-chosen’s eye.
As they step onto the platform, I stand up. The ache in my thigh from the Murk man’s claws has faded nearly completely now. Thanks to my warped foot, I can’t completely erase my limp as I walk to the center of the stage, but I’m not so self-conscious of it now. Most of the fae watching have seen it before. They know who I am and the damage I carry.
But they still honor what I offer them. And tonight they’re going to honor the love I’ve found here—celebrate it, even.
The chatter of the crowd dims to a murmur as I reach the center of the stage. Sylas, Whitt, and August meet me there, standing in a loose line facing me. Corwin positions himself between us, placing one hand on my shoulder. He’s holding something in his other hand wrapped in a bundle of dark fabric.
He clears his throat, and the crowd falls completely silent.
“Tonight,” he says, “I recognize the bonds of love my soul-twined mate has formed with these three men, who are just as deserving of her affections as I am. I welcome them as her mates into our lives, and I ask that you all do the same. Lady Talia has proven how much kindness and generosity she can offer all of us, and she should have just as much in return.”
He steps back, stopping at the back of the platform.
August reaches for my hand first. He clasps it, smiling at me so brilliantly that I feel as if my heart is flying.
In a way, August has taught me to fly: showing me how to use my shaky magical powers, giving me control over light and air. I never feel quite so safe as when he’s standing by me or so nurtured as when we’re building a meal together.
Lifting my hand so the audience can see our entwined fingers, he holds my gaze but raises his voice so all of the assembled fae can hear him.
“Before the Heart, I declare my intent to take Talia of Hearth-by-the-Heart and Heart’s Cadence as my mate. I swear to cherish and protect her with all my being.”
A magical thrum carries through his words. I can’t offer the same sort of vow in return, but I put all the emotion I can into my answering statement. “Before the Heart, I declare my intent to take August of Hearth-by-the-Heart as my mate. I swear to cherish and protect him with all my being.”
August squeezes my hand, and a tingle of energy passes from his palm into mine. Our souls might not be tied together like mine is to Corwin’s, but the depth of his devotion shines in his eyes. He leans in, and I bob up on my toes to kiss him.
A murmur of what sounds like approval ripples through our audience. I brace myself for a shout of protest, but it seems even the Unseelie have settled into the idea of one of their arch-lords openly sharing his soul-twined mate with the wolfish summer fae.
When August eases back, it’s Sylas who steps forward next. He’s the one who suggested we take the vows from youngest to oldest rather than political authority. I think he wanted to avoid implying that his claim overshadowed that of his cadre-chosen.
He takes my hand as August did, both of his mismatched eyes fixed on me. I wonder if his ghostly one is catching glimpses of our future together. If he sees anything that worries him, he gives no sign of it.
His lips curve into the gentle smile he reserves for me, and I find myself remembering the first day when I woke up in his keep in Oakmeet after he’d rescued me from Aerik’s cage. How he came into my room and spoke to me so kindly, earning my trust rather than demanding it.
We’ve come so far since then. Through a lot of pain and struggle, but without fail, he’s given me the space to take control over my own life. And every one of the painful moments was worth it to make it here tonight.
“Before the Heart, I declare my intent to take Talia of Hearth-by-the-Heart and Heart’s Cadence as my mate,” he says in his resonant voice. “I swear to cherish and protect her with all my being.”
I smile back at him, lit up with a glow of happiness that could rival the Heart itself. “Before the Heart, I declare my intent to take Sylas of Hearth-by-the-Heart as my mate. I swear to cherish and protect him with all my being.”
He cups my jaw as he kisses me, holding me steady with his commanding strength. Then he draws back to make room for Whitt.
The last of my Seelie mates, both now and when we started, shoots me one of his crooked grins, but there’s nothing but fondness in it. Staring into his ocean-blue eyes brings me back to that moment not long ago when he told me he trusted me with his own true name. Of the impression of his presence those syllables summoned even at a distance, all wryness and hidden passion, leading me straight to him when I called out with my mind.
Of the passion he brought me to balanced on the edge of his secret terrace, his hold never wavering.
Whitt was once afraid that he’d ruin me somehow. I hope by now he’s seen how much he’s strengthened my will and my confidence instead.
His voice holds its usual hint of dryness, but there’s no mistaking the genuine promise in his words. “Before the Heart, I declare my intent to take Talia of Hearth-by-the-Heart and Heart’s Cadence as my mate. I swear to cherish and protect her with all my being.”
My last vow spills out of me so fast I almost lose my breath. “Before the Heart, I declare my intent to take Whitt of Hearth-by-the-Heart as my mate. I swear to cherish and protect him with all my being.”
He claims my mouth with a subtle flick of his tongue that makes me gasp. When he releases me, his smile a little more wicked now, Corwin raises his hands toward the crowd.
“Lady Talia will live between our realms, serving both and served by both. She has brought peace to our world, soothed old hurts, and healed current maladies. As mate to arch-lords of both seasons and our champion against our curse, all four of us bestow on her this marker of her esteemed place among the fae.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. None of my men mentioned anything like this.
Then Corwin unfurls the cloth bundle and holds out a thin, glinting crown. The strands of silver and gold curl together like twined vines, gripping five small gems that I understand instinctively stand for me and the four men who stand with me. As he sets it on my head, my breath catches.
It’s only a symbol, no extra authority granted with it, he says through our bond with a trace of apology. But we felt it was appropriate all the same.
Thank you, I say, too overwhelmed with emotion to manage more than that. I look to each of my Seelie men with the same gratitude, and from the way they beam back at me, I can tell I don’t need to say it out loud.
The graceful weight of the crown settles into my hair. Corwin lowers his arms—and a flare of brighter light streams over us with the next pulse of the Heart. Its glow and its warmth flood the field, tingling like a melody across my skin. For a second, it seems to enfold me in an embrace.
A rush of giddiness fills my chest. As the light contracts to its usual softer glow, gasps and awed exclamations fill the clearing. Even the winter arch-lords are looking around in wonder.
I don’t know if the Heart’s power actually carried out some magical effect or whether it was merely a symbol of approval, but I’m not sure it matters. If there were any doubts about whether the Heart agreed with this union—and the collaboration between summer and winter—they’ve been laid to rest now.
“Let the celebration begin!” Sylas announces.
Along the fringes of the field, musicians begin to play. Fae bustle off to grab the food and drinks already prepared for the occasion. August scoops me off my feet and carries me off the platform to claim the first dance.
My body is humming with so much relief and joy that the next couple of hours pass in a blur. I whirl and sway with each of my lovers in turn, reveling in the ecstatic air that’s flowing all around us. Sweet juice, tender morsels of meat, and buttery pastries pass over my lips. The hundreds of fae around us frolic, drink, and make merry as only fae can, many of them pausing when they pass near me to bow in respect and congratulate me on my new union.
After a time, even with so much happiness gripping me, I can’t ignore the growing ache in my warped foot. I perch on the edge of the platform to watch the festivities go on. Astrid dances with Verik, and Donovan takes a spin with Zelpha before she returns to a slender, doe-eyed woman I’ve gathered is her mate. I catch glimpses of Harper’s pale dress and hair amid the revelers, though I can’t see if she’s found a partner. It all just feels so right.
My mates have stuck close to me throughout the night, but I shoo them off briefly so they can get some food. I’m supposed to be looking out for them as much as they look out for me, after all.
It’s just after that when an elderly fae who has a vague expression that reminds me of Neve approaches me from the crowd. It takes me a moment to recognize her—she’s from Donovan’s pack, one of the attendants who work in his castle. I spoke to her briefly when I came to his domain to meet with his human servants.
She looked more alert then, but who knows what faerie delights she’s been eating and drinking tonight with their various special effects.
“Lady Talia,” she says in an upbeat if slightly creaky voice. “If I could do you the honor—I have a gift I’d like to offer you. Would you let me show it to you?”
“Of course.” I slip off the platform and follow her through the crowd to the surrounding forest.
I suspect Astrid and at least one of Corwin’s coterie members will follow to keep an eye on me, but I wouldn’t feel particularly worried regardless. Donovan’s pack has always been friendly with ours, and it isn’t as if the woman could lie so close to the Heart about why she wants me to come with her anyway.
Fae are still meandering between the trees as they take a break from the dancing, joyful voices echoing through the air. The woman walks just a little farther, toward the pack village in Donovan’s domain. Maybe she’s left her gift in her home there.
But after several more steps, she turns and gives me a little bow. I see nothing in this spot except the dim silhouettes of the trees and the underbrush around them.
“I don’t understand,” I say tentatively, not wanting to offend her.
The words have barely left my lips when an unfamiliar man steps from the shadows. His smooth, flaxen hair falls to the tips of his faintly pointed ears, and his heavy-lidded eyes gaze down at me from a height that matches August’s.
His hand descends to my forehead. Before I can move or even send out a panicked alarm to Corwin, blackness sweeps through my mind.
Just as the darkness swallows me, the stranger’s voice reaches me, low and slightly hoarse. “Hello, Talia. It’s time you met the one who made you.”
* * *
* * *
Where is this stranger taking Talia—and when she discovers the source of her powers, will the truth be too much to bear? Find out in Lies of Murk, the seventh book in the Bound to the Fae series. Get Lies of Murk now!
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