CHAPTER 477: DECISION (1)

Though no crown touched their heads, the heavens had already crowned them. They were the first of such. This had never happened nor ever been recorded in the records left behind by their ancestors

Ian had been looking at this with his emotions mostly hidden, but his link with Shelby let her know his complicated state of mind.

His voice trembled, low, unsure: "What... what am I supposed to do now?"

It was just but a whisper, mostly to himself. This broke Shelby’s heart. For she couldn’t help but wonder how her brave and fearless man could react like that. However, the shock of it was indeed great. Though Ian’s voice betrayed his state of mind, he was still as calm as could be as they watched the Faefolk’s enthusiastic response to the sky phenomenon.

In that moment, their world held its breath, and they all turned to the direction of the palace. It was strange and eerie to see that a number of beings act the same without any such institutions. It was the same as when they had all knelt back in the throne room. It was indeed a sight to behold.

The couple stood at the centre of it all with hearts pounding.

He turned to her, hand tightening around hers. There was disbelief in his eyes and something sacred. Ian’s vulnerability was only reserved for his Elfin and none other. Even Geneva seized to see this part of him in his early teenage years.

’It’s going to be okay, y-’

That was when a voice echoed in the couple’s ears as if in response to Ian’s troubled question. The voice was very similar to the beings that had spoken to them in the throne room. The response came from somewhere deep in the ancients, not in words, but in warmth.

"Lead."

Was it as simple as it sounded? No one was sure of this.

With that, the skies stilled. The single word spoken almost became like a chant in Ian’s head, even though that ancient being had only spoken once.

And then, just like that, it all faded. The fa-folks disappeared from view as if a curtain had closed on performance, the great hall melted into shadow, the rippling skies dimmed to a distant memory, and the hum of ancient power receded like a tide gone quiet.

The two of them stirred as if waking from a long, surreal dream.

Their eyes fluttered open.

They were no longer standing beneath the swirling starlit ceilings of the throne room. There was also no audience, no swirling skies and no chanting voices.

Just the quiet warmth of their shared chamber, the soft rustle of drapes, the glow of enchanted lanterns, the scent of wildflowers drifting through the open window.

Ian sat up first, startled, breath shallow. Shelby followed a heartbeat later, her hand reaching instinctively for his. Without a doubt they knew that they had shared that phenomenon.

"It was real, wasn’t it?" she asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

He nodded slowly, fingers tightening around hers and drawing her even closer, drawing some calmness from her warm, naked body.

Though the world around them had shifted back into stillness, something had changed, and they were both very much aware.

Their bond was also somewhat stronger as the glowing rings on their fingers shone so brightly that they could have been used to light up a dim path.

It pulsed quietly between them, resilient, sacred, and impossibly deep.

Their heavenly coronation may have passed like a dream, but its truth was now carved into their very souls.

And soon... the realm would wake to a new dawn.

Ian drew a cloth over their bodies, and Shelby rested her head on his chest.

"What do we do?" Shelby whispered, but Ian bent and kissed her forehead, then patted her back fondly as if to say, ’Leave everything to me.’

The door swung open with a quick mental command, and the two shadow assistants came in initially.

A thin curtain made out of entirely foliage fell to section off the bed.

Currey strode forward while maintaining a respective stance, but Murray, on the other hand, dropped to his knees the instant he crossed the threshold, his head lowered in deep shame. He still had not gotten over what had happened; it had become a thorn in his flesh. The weight of guilt pressed heavily upon his shoulders as his voice trembled.

"I neglected my duties... and in my ignorance, I nearly brought harm upon my own master. I know that this is not the first time, but it will be the last. Despite this, I think that I am not fit to take on the role of a shadow bodyguard...."

He bowed low until his forehead touched the cold floor. "Please... punish me as you see fit, Your Majesty. I do not deserve your mercy."

Shelby straightened from Ian, holding a cloth in place to cover her nakedness. Her initial frown deepened, and her heart nearly stopped at Murray’s words. Memories of the last time he had been punished for a similar offence flashed through her mind .... a time when she had been powerless to intervene.

But this time... this time, she truly felt he was not at fault. Murray had done his best to keep her safe and he had blocked what could have been a fatal blow for her. Shelby did not have the heart to see him get punished for nearly losing his life.

Her gaze snapped toward Ian’s in quiet desperation, her eyes wide, pleading, almost panicked.

Ian caught her look instantly. His expression softened as if he’d been expecting it. Without a word, his eyes spoke for him.

"Don’t worry."

It was a silent vow and a promise. He knew that he would not let it happen again, because it would only worry his Elfin.

"How are your injuries?"

For a moment, Murray was very surprised. He had expected any other question or words than this.

"I – I am well, Your Majesty, thank you for asking."

Still, his forehead remained touching the floor.

"You risked your life to save your mistress, and for that, you deserve a commendation...."

Murray peeked up, wondering what was going on. This was not in line with how his master, Ian, worked at all.

"However, a job done well is one without loopholes or vulnerabilities. Blocking that attack saved her, but what if we had not arrived? This would have meant that both you and her would have perished in that hall, for the second attack would have hit her directly. Your second fault was that you were too weak to have developed that level of injury from that!"

Ian paused. If the witches were there, they would have rolled their eyes and scoffed at this. They had commended Murray for being alive after being hit, but Ian thought Murray should not have even gotten hurt. That was the most ridiculous thing that anyone could have said.

At some point in time, two other Faes, the head guard and Shelby’s new friend, had also entered after the assistants, and they were there just in time to hear this. They gawked.

’Such high standard!’ the guard thought, knowing very well that if he had been the one who had tried to block off the attack, he would have died just from the residual power only. After that attack incident, his admiration for this Murray person had grown exponentially, but it was still not enough? He felt sweat start to trickle down his back, because whether he liked it or not, these were his new masters. He had no other options!

Obviously, Ian heard of all these thoughts, but did not react. The other Fae, whom Ian remembered that Shelby had made a request for from the dungeons, was just awestruck. One could literally see stars shining in his eyes. For some reason, Ian was reminded of their youngest, Gabriel, when he looked at how this Fae behaved.

Ian continued,

"Because of this, you will go into another set of intensive training, alongside your daily tasks...."

Murray sat up on his heels, eyes nearly bulging. Was he hearing this right?

He blinked, stunned. Not iron, like the last time, nor was it an exile. In the Fae-land, knowing the rules, Murray had even thought that he might get a magical mark of disgrace. But... training?

His head slowly rose, uncertain if he’d heard right. Yet the command was clear: he was to undergo an intensive, gruelling course under Ian’s instructions and a lone instructor-like warrior - one of those who shaped warriors, legends, and rulers alike.

"Training...?" he murmured under his breath again, still kneeling, still expecting the other shoe to drop. But it never did.

It was punishment, yes, demanding, painful, relentless. But to Murray, it was a blessing in disguise. A second chance. A path back to honour, carved with sweat instead of shame.

He bowed deeper, voice barely more than a whisper.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

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