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Hava stood next to me on the top terrace of the temple. There was a semi-circle of steps leading to the wide, white-stoned terrace and entrance to the temple—a sharp contrast to the temple made of the same black obsidian as the palace. The priestesses stood quietly on the semicircle of steps, facing the street.
“They’ll be coming right up that road any minute,” Hava whispered to me, pointing to the main street funneling into the city from the south.
She didn’t need to tell me. I could hear them. The clopping of hooves on stone and the cheers from the wraith fae filling the streets of Silvantis told me of the approach of their king and his returning army.
To my left stood the two-story black marble statue of their mighty god, the four-horned Vix, riding his dragon named Silvantis. The namesake of the city. Vix held his sword aloft, swinging it wide as if in battle, their fierce defender and most sacred god.
The noise and cheers grew louder. Then they entered the wide square surrounding the temple, and my breathing faltered.
Goll rode a giant of a beast—a black Pellasian stallion with a long mane. He rode at the front with his second Soryn on one side and the scarred one, Keffa, on the other. While the throng bellowed his name, his gaze found me instantly and held.
I remained still, chin held high, as he came to a stop, dismounted, and ascended the steps, walking past the high priestess and the others toward me. They all dipped a curtsy as he passed.
More cheers erupted as he came into view of the people on the streets. I waited, watching him draw nearer, but I did not curtsy. While the anger still simmered under my skin, I wasn’tready to bow to my king. But I remained poised while he looked his fill.
I wore one of my high-necked gowns due to the colder weather here. It was a deep royal blue, the color of my family crest.
Goll’s mouth ticked up in that annoyingly smug smile. “Hello, Una. Have you fared well in my absence?”
“Indeed, I have. I hardly noticed you were gone.”
His smile widened as he strode away from me to meet the high priestess and another priestess now standing before the statue of Vix.
The priestess next to the head held a red velvet pillow in her upturned palms. Golden cuffs set atop the pillow. Like the others, she wore a gossamer black gown with loose sleeves, her silver headdress a transparent veil over her long, black hair, her four gray horns spiraling backward in an elegant swoop.
“Welcome home, Prince Gollaya,” said the high priestess.
I glanced at Hava with a frown, wondering if she had insulted Gollaya.
Hava shook her head and leaned close to whisper, “It is his proper title, but that is about to change.”
She pointed back to them. Gollaya knelt before the high priestess. The crowd shushed instantly as she took the golden cuffs and turned toward the statue of Vix, raising them above her horned head. Her silver veil slipped to her shoulders as she spoke to the sky.
“By the authority of Vix whose might and power sanctifies me to bestow this crown, I call upon his sacred blessing.”
She turned to face Gollaya who still knelt on one knee, his profile grave and undeniably beautiful.
“I hereby crown you, Gollaya Verbane,” she slipped the cuffs onto his two larger horns, sliding them to where they fit perfectly at the base, “King of the people of Northgall,andthe first wraithking of the people of Lumeria.” The high priestess smiled as she added that title.
While the crowd erupted into roaring applause and cheers, my gut tightened and I swayed with nausea. Hava gripped my hand and smiled up at me with sympathy. Though Hava looked nothing like my moon fae friend Min, she reminded me of her all the same. Min always knew when I needed comfort or a compassionate touch. I squeezed her hand back then let it go and faced forward as Gollaya rose, officially their newly crowned king.
He bowed his head to the high priestess then he turned to the other priestess.
“Welcome home, my king,” she said, clasping her delicate hands in front of her as she dipped into a deep curtsy and held.
“Thank you, High Oracle Dalya. Rise.”
She stood with all the poise of a high-born wraith fae.
“Who is she?” I asked Hava.
“That’s Dalya. She’s a soul-seer. She has been his seer in hiding since he returned to Silvantis a year ago. She will now be High Oracle to the king. A very important role.”
“It is good to see you home and healthy, my king,” she said with genuine affection and a warm smile, which she then turned to me. “Will you introduce me, Sire?” She nodded in my direction.
Goll turned and strode toward me beside her.
“Dalya of Dravencourt, High Oracle of Silvantis, this is Tiarrialuna Elzabethanine Hartstone. My mizrah.”
