Stil tipped his head until their foreheads touched. “As much as it pains me to ever see a life taken, yes. Most people are good. But there are some so twisted and dark that they will never see the light again.”
“Like King Torgen,” Gemma said.
“Like King Torgen,” Stil agreed. “Eventually, he would have destroyed Verglas.”
“I know,” Gemma whispered. “And I hated him. But…he loved his wife.”
“You can be happy, and relieved, and still pity him,” Stil said, brushing Gemma’s cheek with warm fingers. “It’s one of the things I love about you. You will dislike a person, but your heart still breaks for them. I treasure that.”
“Thank you for coming back for me,” Gemma said.
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry for all the…unfeeling things I said.”
“You were trying to protect yourself. Besides, I know you are worth fighting for,” Stil said, sliding his cheek against hers so the exhale of his rich chuckle tickled Gemma’s ear.
“Stil, I…”
“Yes?”
Gemma swallowed. She had to tell Stil. She owed it to him! “I—,”
“I knew it!”
Gemma blinked and turned her head, disengaging from Stil’s touch. “What?” she said to Lady Linnea, the interrupter.
Stil groaned and dropped his head into Gemma’s shoulder where he growled for a moment.
“I knew your lover was helping you!” Lady Linnea said with a smug smile.
“But he is a mage,” Gemma said.
“He is still your lover!” Lady Linnea said, folding her arms across her chest and squinting at Stil, who still had his head buried in the puffy fabric on Gemma’s shoulder. “I guess he’ll do.”
“You guess? After what he just did?” Gemma asked, surprised by Lady Linnea’s begrudging appraisal.
“Yes, he does make a good presentation. But he seems like a whiner,” Lady Linnea said.
Stil finally pulled his head from Gemma’s shoulder and tilted his head to touch Gemma’s as he addressed Lady Linnea. “Do you have any idea how I have fought for her?”
“Do you really think I happened to interrupt?” Lady Linnea asked.
“I’ve never been fond of nobility,” Stil said.
“And I’ve never liked mages,” Lady Linnea said.
“Stop it. Both of you,” Gemma said. “My Lady, I don’t understand the sudden dislike. You were rooting for my supposed lover since the first night of spinning.”
“That was before I knew he was a mage,” Lady Linnea said.
“But I told you!” Gemma said at the same time Stil said, “So?”
“As a mage, he is sure to hustle you away and rip you from Verglas—and from me,” Lady Linnea said, turning her sad, blue eyes to Gemma.
Gemma stepped out of Stil’s arms so she could embrace Lady Linnea. “No matter our futures, My Lady, you will be a companion of my heart,” she said, her voice fierce. “I will always care for you.”
Lady Linnea sniffed. “And I will always care for you.”
Stil politely looked away as the two girls cried and smiled together.
“I suppose you won’t go away forever. You love this frozen wasteland too much,” Lady Linnea wryly smiled as she wiped a tear away.
“I do,” Gemma admitted. She lifted her gaze to look to Prince Toril, who was standing in front of the ice statue that was his father. His expression was filled with regret and sadness. “I wonder what will happen next.”
“He will need help,” Lady Linnea said.
“What he needs is an army of scholars to fill that empty mind of his,” Stil said.
“You are sinking even further in my esteem, craftmage,” Lady Linnea tightly said.
Gemma placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Can’t you aid him?”
“I want to see the world, Gemma.”
“But if he asked, would you sacrifice it all?” Gemma asked.
Lady Linnea looked back to the crestfallen prince. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said. She squared her shoulders and crossed the courtyard. “Long live King Toril,” Linnea called. Her voice was strong in a sea of whispers and uncertainty.
Toril twisted around, his eyes wide in surprise.
“Long live King Toril,” Linnea repeated.
“Long Live King Toril!” some of the civilians shouted with her.
People began to clap; guards banged their spears on the ground in a solid beat, and the nobles gave sweeping bows and curtseys to their new monarch.
“She is quite smitten with him,” Stil observed.
“Painfully so,” Gemma agreed, barely audible above the cheers and shouts of the crowd as Verglas welcomed its new King.
Chapter 18
By the time night fell, both much and little had changed.
Dispatch riders were sent out to inform all of Verglas; Gemma was able to change into one of her dresses—courtesy of Grandmother Guri who delivered the dark blue dress to her at the palace—and everyone had acknowledged, in as few words as possible, that they were overjoyed with King Torgen’s passing.
The unexpected problem was who would rule.
