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10
Erik didn’t like leaving her to walk into the throne room without him, but after the sobs he’d heard coming from behind that door, he knew she needed space. She’d been through a lot. She deserved some time with her cousin. This wasn’t her home. She needed to adjust.
Still, it didn’t lessen the sting. He wanted her to be happy in his city. He wanted her to be happy with him. He wanted her to want him like she had before the horde showed up on the hills.
“Your Majesty,” Harker ’s voice called out, jarring him from his thoughts.
The wolf was in his human form once more and had donned a black shirt from the guard station. Erik gave him a once-over and chuckled. “You might want to finish tucking in that shirt before we go inside. You know how Carlotta and the rest of the nobles are about appearances.”
The werewolf paled at the mention of his mother and shoved the other part of his shirt into his pants. The wolf crone was still sharp as a young pup, and she was never harsher than when it came to her sons. Erik could see at least two scars on the man that he knew had come from her. He had no doubts there were more.
“Alright,” Erik sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Is the Princess not joining us?” He frowned.
Erik raised an eyebrow as he turned to the throne room door. “Like her do you?”
“She’s a spitfire, Sire. Of course, I like her.”
Erik nodded. “That is she is. I suppose that’s why I like her too.”
Harker put a hand on his shoulder, “You deserve to be happy, Erik.”
The vampire froze. Harker was one of his closest friends, but he rarely called him by his name. He saved it for when he was being serious, which for Harker was rare. Turning Erik put his own hand on the wolf’s shoulder. “I have hope, that’s all we can ask for.”
Harker bowed his head and dropped his hand. “I hope that one day you realize you have a lot more than hope on your side.”
Erik sighed and pushed through the door, walking into the throne room. Much like the rest of the palace, the floors were black marble, and the walls were the color of wine or blood as the case may be. Above his head, twin silver chandeliers glittered with light, and to his left sat the great black throne of the Nilumarian King.
In any other circumstance he would sit atop it to greet his council, but today, a circle of chairs had been set at the foot of the dais, and the nobles stood around them sipping from silver goblets. They looked up at the sight of him descending the stairs and bowed in unison.
“Your Majesty…. Your Majesty…. Your Majesty,” Their voices echoed discordantly.
“Good evening,” he said, approaching the chair they’d placed for him in the semi-circle.
Carlotta, the silver-haired matron, dressed in a gown of midnight blue stepped forward first and gave him another sweeping bow as he dropped into his chair. She pressed a hand to her heart and smiled up at him. “Your majesty, we are so happy to have you home.”
“I’m happy to be home,” he said, gesturing for her to rise. “I trust you all kept my kingdom running smoothly while I was gone?”
Behind his chair, Harker snorted and then masked it with a cough.
A man as thin as a stick of kindling stepped forward, giving him an awkward bend at the waist, and then stood upright. “Welcome home, Sire. We’ve been waiting with bated breath for your arrival. As always.”
Erik winced and gave him his courtly smile. “That’s nice, Varley.”
The spymaster and his sons were the only ones on his council that he truly wished he could get rid of. The man never sat right with him.
“Where is your choice?” Asked another of the nobles, drawing his attention from Varley.
Erik spotted her instantly. Sabine Oshad, the exotic beauty from the islands to the far south on the easternmost part of his kingdom. She wore gold rings around her neck, a silver hoop through her nose, and her dark chocolate skin was painted with gold glitter.
“Sabine.” He smiled, pressing his lips tightly together. “She will be along shortly.”
A throat cleared in the distance. “She is here, Your Majesty.”
Erik stood and marched up the stairs to where Lucy and Mina stood arm in arm. He held out his hand to Mina. She didn’t seem to notice the quick once over he gave her or the tension that melted from his shoulders at the sight of her. Her tears were gone, her face no longer red. She’d combed back her hair, and she’d traded her dirty riding clothes for a soft gray jacket that buckled along her ribcage, and a loose-fitting black shirt that left her neck open, exposing the silver chain and necklace she wore beneath it.
Mina took his hand and dipped into a respectful curtsy before him. “Your Majesty.”
