Beyond the Mountain (Fae's Captive #4) - Lily Archer Page 0,49
in them. My gaze is firmly fixed on the doors at the back of the great hall. Thousands turn and wait for my mate, their curiosity coloring the air. Gareth takes position beside me, and I know he’s scouring the crowd for threats and to ensure our most important invitees are in attendance.
Queen Aurentia enters through a side door and, after a quick nod of deference, she takes a seat to the side.
“Ready?” Gareth asks.
“Eager.” I clasp my hands in front of me. She’s almost here. I can feel her nerves through the bond. “I can’t wait,” I whisper to her.
“Shhh!” she shoots back. “Trying to concentrate here.”
I laugh even though it gains several stares.
Gareth clears his throat. “Looks like every diplomat who could make it here in time did. I see plenty of good alliances out there.”
I can’t tell if he’s chattering about politics because he wants to or because he’s trying to keep me calm. Either way, he doesn’t stop until the doors finally begin to open.
I straighten and stare.
When she appears, I send every bit of my excitement down the bond, skittering along our connection like a wildfire.
She meets my gaze, her sparkling eyes the most beautiful blue in all of Arin. My heart seems to beat triple time as she walks toward me, her gown like a winter’s dream of white lace and gray spidersilk with a white fur cloak trailing behind.
It’s as if the entire room draws in a breath, shocked by the gorgeous queen who must surely be straight from the Glowing Lands. Her hair is loose and wavy, perfect for my fingers. It’s a shame her dress is so beautiful, because I intend to rip it off the moment I get her alone after the ceremony.
She climbs the steps, her eyes locked with mine.
With her at my side, I am the most blessed king Arin has ever known.
She stops beside me, and I can’t help but take her hand and kiss it.
Branala clears her throat. “My lord.”
We both turn to face her as the guests take their seats.
Taylor’s hand shakes as I hold it, and Branala begins reciting the ancient liturgy, the words of binding. Magic begins to sparkle in the air around us, blue and white flickers that dance as our bond becomes visible.
“You put all other queens to shame.”
Her cheeks redden, and she sneaks a look at me from the corner of her eye. “You murdered my panties the second I saw you.”
My low growl stops Branala, who gives me a scolding glare. I force myself to calm and nod for her to go on.
She shakes her head but continues reading.
“You are going to get a spanking for that, little one.”
Her eyes widen, but I can sense her interest tickling down the bond.
“My queen is far naughtier than I ever imagined.” I squeeze her hand. “Thank the Ancestors.”
Her cheeks brighten even further as the magic intensifies, Branala’s words sealing our bond for all to see.
When she finishes, we turn to face the crowd, and Gareth brings forth Taylor’s crown.
“That’s for me?” She puts one hand to her mouth. “Delantis.” Her eyes water. “It’s perfect.”
“Fit for a queen.” I take the silver circlet with the soulstone diadem and place it on her head.
“More to the right,” Gareth whispers.
I smile and adjust it as the magic swirling around us intensifies.
When Taylor looks up, her eyes sparkling and her mating mark practically glowing, my heart feels like it could burst.
I raise her hand. “Your queen, Taylor Gladion.”
A roar goes up and applause breaks out.
She smiles, but then it fades.
“What?” I face her, blocking her from the crowd and cupping her cheek. “What’s wrong?”
The guests quiet.
“The curse.” She squints at the magic. “Don’t you see it?”
I turn and stare at the blue and white sparks, the wisps of bond magic. “No.”
“The dark is there, staining it. I can feel it, like oil on water.” She reaches toward it. “Look.” A tendril of her dark magic flows from her fingertip.
The guests gasp, and Gareth yells for calm.
A thicker wisp of darkness appears from the maelstrom, one I didn’t see until Taylor pulled it forth.
I tense. “Be careful.”
“It can’t hurt me. It’s part of me.” She opens her palm, and the darkness thickens, flowing into her from the shimmery circle. It grows lighter and lighter, the sparks turning into stars, the hues growing even more vibrant, our bond in its full glory.
When she pulls the last tendril inside herself, the magic bursts in an explosion of light,