Page 78 of Savage Crown
Kaelric walked in last.
He had no crown on his head, no blood on his clothes, just a family crest stitched into his cloak, and his father’s signet ring on his finger. It had the same wolf that was on the hilt of the sword I carried. His eyes were locked on mine.
“Kaelric Morvain? He lives?” people whispered.
The whispers became a shout: “The true king, he lives!”
His gaze took in the cut at my thigh, the blood that had dried on my cloak.
I crossed the space to him, and he grasped the sides of my face.
“My queen.” He breathed the words like a prayer before capturing my mouth in a kiss.
This was not a stolen moment in a tent.
Not a shy brush of lips or a secret promise shared in the dark
This kiss was a declaration.
It was deep and hungry, reverent and possessive all at once. His hand cradled my face, his other arm drawing me flush to him as if he would never let me go again. Heat rolled through me, fierce enough to make my knees tremble. I felt every heartbeat, every gasp, every unspoken vow threaded between our mouths as the world around us fell away.
My queen.
The words thrummed through my blood.
Kaelric wasn’t just kissing me. He was showing every single person watching that he had come home for his crown, and he would wear it with me at his side.
No hiding.
No shame.
No doubt.
I loved him for it, for his boldness, for the way his soul called to mine, for the way he claimed me with his heart before anything else. I loved him more fiercely than I had ever loved anyone, in this life or any other.
When he finally pulled back, his breath fanned across my lips, and his eyes glowed a molten yellow, wild, tender, and wholly mine.
Cheers went up around us, and I looked around to see that fires had been kindled. Citizens were coming out of their homes and pulling down Harrow’s banners and tossing them into the flames.
The gate clanged fully open, and the last of Harrow’s loyalists were tested. Were they going to be brave or stupid?
A knot of guards near the barracks chose stupid. They formed a tight ring around their sergeant and charged at Kaelric’s wolves with a ragged shout. Kaelric’s men were quick and brutal, and the scuffle ended with the sergeant face down in the frost, and his men disarmed, not dead. Kaelric’s wolves stoodover them and bared their teeth. The sergeant spat once, saw whose boots stood by his head, and went very still.
“Strip them of weapons and banish them. If I see you in my city again, I’ll kill you on sight,” Kaelric said.
The men peered at each other with confusion. They hadn’t expected mercy.
Kaelric’s eyes slid to Valkaryn at my hip and then to the castle beyond me. I followed his gaze. A door opened on the second-floor gallery. Someone had dragged one of Harrow’s great bronze statues to the balcony and pushed. It hit the flagstones in the yard with a hollow crash that rang like a bell. The head bounced and rolled, stopping at Kaelric’s feet. For a long breath, no one moved.
Kaelric stepped forward, picked up the bronze head with both hands, and flung it into the nearest bonfire.
The people of Lunaria cheered, hoisting their fists into the air. Two boys who could not have been more than twelve shouted, pulling a second statue down with a rope. When it hit the ground, the cheer that went up could be heard throughout the entire city.
“Long live the true wolf king,” a voice cried.
Others took it up, screaming with intensity because they could. They could finally do what they wanted without fear of being controlled.
“Long live the true wolf king. Long live the true wolf king.”
