Nightshade: Chapter Five
Amara has a difficult choice to make.
“Are you aware that there is a loophole in the ascension laws?”
“No.” I didn’t dare give in to the hope threatening to rise inside me. “What is it?”
Erebus looked cautiously around before motioning me into an alcove. “I believe it was created in case the other monarchs were unable to attend a coronation. There is no record of it being used before, because it has never been necessary, but I believe you have cause now.”
“What do I have to do?”
Erebus spoke in a low, quiet voice. “If you marry Prince Rowan, any royal power he has will pass to you. It might be enough to make the Night Realm recognise you as its rightful ruler.”
My first reaction was to stare at him in shock. Marry Rowan? We had only just met, and faeries didn’t marry for any reason other than love.
I had vowed to do what it took to save the Night Realm. Nobody would be hurt and there would be no bloodshed. Was I willing to marry someone I hardly knew to help my people?
Yes.
But Rowan had no reason to help us other than his own freedom. He was a spring faery, a creature of light and joy and new beginnings; if he became my consort, he would be bound to the shadows for as long as he lived.
“You said it might be enough.”
“As I said, Your Majesty, it has never been done before.”
If Rowan and I were to marry, it would be our own decision and I would not pressure him.
“We will get to know each other first,” I said. “Then I will speak to him.”
“You may not have long.”
The warning in Erebus’ voice sent a chill down my back. If he thought Rowan and I did not have much time, we most likely didn’t.
Night had fallen.
“Where is Prince Rowan?” I asked Charlock, who pointed towards the garden.
I couldn’t bring myself to move. The garden was usually a place of peace and contemplation, but now the archway looked like the mouth of a cave.
“Your little friend’s with him.” Charlock grinned playfully, quirking an eyebrow at me.
“My little…oh. The nightjar.”
I reached out and gently touched the nearest pillar; a nightshade plant wound its way up the stone column and burst into bloom. A tiny swarm of fireflies flew in from the garden and clustered around the plant.
Their glow changed from yellow to white.
Charlock drew in a sharp breath. “Of course. It’s tonight.”
I had forgotten. “I should find Rowan.”
He was wandering among the statues, looking at each one. His steps were silent and measured, and there was a half-smile of wonder on his face. The nightjar flitted from the head of one statue to the shoulder of another, singing as loudly as she could.
A flute began to play in the distance; the soft melody seemed to fill the entire garden.
Humans believe that Death is granted one night a year to rest from his labours. We knew it to be true. This was that night.
Rowan stopped to gaze up at one of the statues. My heart almost stopped beating and it took all my strength to close the distance between us.
“This one is your mother.” Rowan’s voice was almost a whisper.
I nodded, finally finding the courage to look at her face for the first time in over fifty years.
She almost seemed to be smiling down at me.
“I saw Death once.”
The words came pouring out of my mouth like ambrosia wine. “I don’t remember how I reached his castle, but it was cold and made of grey stone. There was candlelight everywhere and he was there, sleeping on a stone altar with his hands folded on his chest.”
Rowan’s hand touched mine.
“I know I saw his face. I can’t remember what it looked like.”
The nightjar flew towards me and landed on my shoulder, her tiny claws startling me out of my half-trance.
“Forgive me, I shouldn’t…”
“It’s all right.”
We stood side by side and listened to the music as it floated through the garden and the fireflies flew around us like stars.