I glanced at Nyfain. He met my gaze but didn’t comment.
“That look means mind your own fucking business, or I’ll rip your spine out through your dick,” Hadriel told Vemar.
“Noted,” Vemar responded.
“Was this one of your dreams, as well?” Nyfain asked me, humor quickly filtering into the bond as his jacket and shirt were stripped away. “Stripping down in front of a kingdom?”
“No. I’m trying to ignore it, actually. Shh.”
My crown was the last item to be taken, at the same time as Nyfain’s, and then we stood there naked in front of all of our subjects. Whose dumb fucking idea was this?
Mine. And it’s a damn good one.
“Ready?” I asked.
“As planned.” Nyfain waited patiently.
He had practiced, yes. He’d jumped off cliffs, lower and lower until he jumped off the mast of the faerie ship, and finally a tree about as high as our balcony. He was ready.
I hoped he was fucking ready. Otherwise he might go splat.
He helped me up onto the edge of the balcony, and a loud whoa drifted out below us. Cheering and shouts died down until they were soft murmurs of excitement, everyone staring up at us with wide eyes.
And then I jumped, smiling, feeling the rush as the wind streamed past me. I’d always loved this part, the free fall when I was still in my own body. My smile turned to a laugh, and then I tucked in so the dragon could take over.
She exploded into being and then whooshed down toward them, sailing just over their heads before climbing and turning, issuing a loud roar to her mate.
Nyfain stepped up to the railing, tall and broad and bronzed by the midday sun. Scars crisscrossed his body, caught by the rays, some hidden by the intricate lines of ink that had been drawn over and around them, some a fierce reminder of what life had been like in this kingdom. His powerful frame was corded with muscle, showcasing his hard-won strength. The breeze worried his unruly hair, and his golden gaze, too far away for most in the crowd to make out, speared down into them. He looked ruthless and menacing, utterly terrifying. He was the defender of this kingdom, and now he finally had the title to go with it.
The crowd had gone deathly silent. A little tremor of fear rolled through them, more than a few people shivering. And then he was jumping, a swan dive toward them, not waiting until the last moment like I had—he was not able to shift fast enough to wait at all. The moments ticked by, and down he fell, nearly too low now.
My dragon tensed, ready to rush forward, but then the big golden dragon emerged. Sun glimmered on his scales as his wings snapped out and started pumping. Dragon-made wind slapped down on the people below, making them duck, ruining their hairstyles, and then Nyfain was sailing past them. His roar rumbled the ground and sent some people scattering to the sides. Others stayed low, turning to watch him take to the sky.
He joined us, and then, wing to wing, we went back for another swoop before we flew out over the kingdom.
No banging, seriously, I told my dragon.
If you say so.
I was suddenly a little worried about what she planned to do in retaliation.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Finley
The banquet hall was crowded for the coronation dinner. The large dining table that sat in the middle of the room had been in storage for years, taken away during the demon residency to make room for sex parties.
At least Dolion hadn’t stolen it.
I shared the place of honor with Nyfain, both of us back in fine clothes, our plates heaped with food. Arleth sat by Nyfain’s side as head advisor—she hadn’t wanted the post in the beginning, but she was so good at it that the other advisors pushed her into it—and Hadriel sat by my side for no reason other than that he’d basically forced his way past whoever was supposed to be there. Calia and her sister sat across from Nyfain and me, in a position that declared them our special guests, with Hannon next to them. Govam sat just beyond them, with Denski by his side, not so far down that they couldn’t be a part of our conversation. The rest of the faeries and demons, as well as the rest of my family, sat closer to the other end, not important to matters of the kingdom. Arleth’s words.
She’d been the one to plan this out. In times past, that duty would have gone to a team of people, who’d decide who warranted a seat near the king and queen. Given that that team had all likely died tragically, and no one left really knew what they were doing in terms of official business, Arleth had gracefully accepted the role.