“Jyn—am I doing the right thing?” I hesitated, then asked, “Should I have taken her throne? She won’t even acknowledge the subject. I don’t know what to expect. She hasn’t prepared me at all. What if I’m not ready for this?”
My friend leveled a long gaze at me before he said, “You knew what you were doing when you approached the Council. If they hadn’t agreed with you, they would have declined your request. Trust yourself, Princess. I do. She’ll talk to you when she’s ready.”
“I’m not so sure. I mean, as of now, she’s still fully capable of ruling . . . ”
“She’ll come around.”
I looped my elbow through Jyn’s, breathing deeply. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter 2
I squinted in the sunlight, glancing up at the palace walls around me. All of the primary architecture was smoothed stone, from the front arch to the tower above. This was home, and yet today I found no comfort in the ivy-laced structures around me.
In the wall behind me sat a small wooden door, carved with a tiny window that afforded me a wide view of the crowd. This courtyard had been designed for such events, a direct branch off the front entrance that was almost entirely walled off from the main estate. We only ever used the area once or twice a year.
Stone paths wound throughout the courtyard, aged and cracking. Even the fountain in the center had begun to show wear. Beautiful, but in need of repair. Two large fish twisted together with elegantly long fins draped across their scales. Water jettisoned from their twin mouths and fell into a basin littered with flakes of gold that had chipped off from above.
Small, white wooden chairs were arranged across the grass. Each faced toward a short platform at the front, which currently held a large, ornate throne made from cherry wood. The grand chair was beautiful, with a high back topped by an exceptionally detailed carving of a gryphon. The sculpted beast glared down at the plum cushion on the seat below. Mother refused to do away with the throne, an antiquated tradition I didn't look forward to. I was to sit upon that cushion when I was crowned, presenting myself as the right and proper ruler. Blasphemy, in my mind. I couldn’t imagine the ceremony would make me feel any more suited for the position than I had before. Though, I wasn’t really suited to be queen. I had volunteered, begged even, and now here I was, reevaluating the future I had chosen for myself.
Reminding myself that I’d done it for Mother’s sake helped, though.
The air around us swelled with the sweet scent of the flowering trees that bloomed throughout the palace grounds. Pink and white petals twirled on the breeze, and I caught one in my palm before the pollen sent me into a wild sneezing fit. I glowered at the strained look on Jyn’s face as he fought to hold his composure.
“Blessings,” he said quietly. His tone dripped with sarcasm.
I started to reply when I heard Devlyn, the Captain of the Guard, shout above the chatter.
“This way please. Let’s keep this orderly. No shoving, there’s plenty of room for everyone.” I heard a pause and then Devlyn said, “You lot aren’t coming in.”
An angry wave of protest met his words, and several voices spit a colorful stream of swears. Jyn’s eyebrows drew together. I couldn’t see what was happening outside the far wall, but I didn’t envy Devlyn his position today.
“Who do you think is giving him such trouble?” I asked Jyn.
“I’m not sure. I imagine your ascension has agitated some people.” His voice was very soft. “Maybe they thought to protest?”
“Protest?” I flinched. “I guess I hadn’t considered that possibility.”
Most of the crowd moved past Devlyn and dispersed toward their seats, spreading away from the disorderly cluster of bodies that still pressed against the back wall. Every face and person was so different. Across the way twinkled flashes of jewelry—likely nobility—but the majority were simply Thraisian citizens. Shop owners, hunters, farmers, small families.
Against the farthest wall, tucked into the shade of a tree, sat three slightly more elaborate chairs with high backs and soft cushions reserved for the royalty of Wydus from the north. Heavily armored guards flanked each end of the reserved row. I wasn’t surprised. Mother and Devlyn had spent days working out the security rotations. Several men and women had even been stationed in inconspicuous places inside the walls in addition to the obvious glints of silver moving along the battlements.
I pulled back from the door as chairs filled and an overflow of people began to span along the walls. My throat tightened. If I saw the full extent of the crowd, I might not step out when I was supposed to.
Minutes passed. My fingers traced the rough embroidery that climbed up my skirt. A black bead came loose when I tugged, and I rolled the tiny piece of glass over my palm. I reached for another when the first slid from my grasp. Jyn cleared his throat pointedly.
I playfully narrowed my eyes. “No one will notice.”
“That’s not the point.” Jyn’s voice was barely a whisper. “Don’t pick at it.”
I looked up at him with a smirk and looped my finger through a thread. His eyes narrowed, but I pulled. A satisfying shower of tiny beads fell onto the ground below.
“You’re impossible,” he muttered with a frown.
Right then, a horn blared. The echo rang across the grounds. My eyes fell back to that tiny window, to the abundance of bodies beyond. Every square inch of the courtyard was filled with people, and even the visiting Royals had taken their seats. I recoiled at the sight.
Annalea stood with our mother at the front of the platform. At sixteen, she looked almost exactly like our mother had at that age, all except her eyes. Those were my father’s—the soft lavender that I shared, but flecked with the same sparkling sapphire that had stippled his eyes. I couldn’t deny my envy of the way her beautiful chestnut hair sparkled in the sunlight, or the way the dark tones accented her summer-tanned skin.
Mother eyed Annalea in annoyance when she noticed how my sister fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. She sniffed, and her nostrils flared, but she proceeded with introductions and ignored my sister.
“My friends, my family, my people. Welcome.”
She paused for the gentle wave of applause. Angry shouts rose up again, from beyond where Devlyn aggressively guarded the courtyard entrance. Annalea’s eyes widened and Jyn shifted, but Mother was unfazed.
“We’ve gathered today for a momentous occasion, the day my eldest daughter will take the mantle of leadership over this kingdom. Princess Natylia is receiving the crown early by special request of the Council. I hope you’re all as kind to her as you’ve always been to me.”
More applause. I noted how the citizens shifted in their seats, restless. The thrown elbows, the soft whispers. My breath caught. They knew, every one of them, that I wasn’t fit to take the throne. I was to go before this crowd? Had their opinions of me really changed in so short a time?
Figures moved through the mass of people, hooded forms in pale green. The five broke the crowd, fanning into a line before my mother.
“I would like to thank the Priestesses of Nahara for attending us today, and for offering their guidance and blessings. With that, I would like to reintroduce my daughter, our Princess Natylia.”
I swallowed hard and plastered a smile on my face, each step beyond the door a mechanical repetition. My knees nearly buckled when I realized the full volume of those gathered. Mother’s words were lost to me, her voice a garbled sound in my ears. My focus was strained on keeping the smile up. I fought to ignore the leaden weight that was trying to shove my stomach into my feet. Back straight, stomach tight, chin high . . . My mind measured each motion, a checklist that had been drilled into my instincts for as long as I could remember. Nothing less than utter perfection.
The High Priestess Callithyia stepped forward. A long necklace of rainbow crystals that hung at her neck was the only ornament she wore, distinguishing her from the other priestesses. She dipped her head and tapped her foreh
ead with a finger, the signal for Mother and Annalea to step away. I stood utterly alone in front of my kingdom, judged by the eyes of dozens. My breaths were short. I had volunteered for this, insisted even. Inhaling deeply, I pushed the air out of my nose and tried to focus.
Devlyn was still in the midst of dealing with whatever trouble harassed the far entrance, and the angry protests were the only sounds that shattered the gentle song the high priestess now sung. The sounds of armor rang through the courtyard, and I faintly heard Devlyn order them all removed. Curiosity tugged at my feet, but I couldn’t move. Mother would have my head.
When the song ended, Callithyia pulled back her hood. Waves of black hair tumbled free onto her shoulders, the perfect frame to her lovely bronze complexion. The other priestesses remained hooded but knelt before their leader. I kept my face stoic, even as I cringed when the women lifted their arms and began to speak verses, beautiful voices tangled in harmonic unison. Callithyia touched her forehead again and the ladies fell silent.
Her voice carried across the courtyard and echoed softly off the stone. At the final word, the crowd broke into an enthusiastic round of applause. I scanned the crowd, seeking a friendly face. There were many who were familiar and many lit with a sort of respect or adoration. Several were twisted with anger. The eyes of these individuals were narrowed onto my face, and I flinched under the scrutiny. No matter. The people I’d sought, the friends I held dear, had been swallowed into the mass of bodies. Into the city of lives I was now responsible for.
My breath caught for a moment. I forced more air into my lungs.
Callithyia dismissed the other four girls and stepped in front of me. She touched a finger to my forehead. A droplet of holy water etched a path over my nose before falling to my gown below. My cheeks ached from the smile that still stretched my lips, but I followed in suit when Callithyia began to recite verses.
“In the name of Nahara and for the good of my people, I will be kind. Under her blessing I shall rule, offering jovial celebration and swift justice in their turns. As of her traditions, I shall uphold the customs and honors that are bestowed upon this kingdom.”
My words were fixed. I had repeated them over and over several times this week. When required, I gestured or folded my hands into ceremonial poses. I lost track of how many times I tapped my forehead.
The sun beat down on my shoulders. I wanted to squirm free from the heavy layers of silk and tulle. My blood rushed to my face and the itch of sweat rippled across my skin. I almost tore my eyes from Callithyia to see if Annalea was as uncomfortable as me, but I resisted. Still, my eyes sought a distraction.
A woman near the front of the crowd caught my eye, an infant clutched to her chest and a broad-rimmed hat shielding the babe’s face from the scorch of the bright day. The man beside her had his arm wrapped loosely around her waist and, even from this distance, I could see the strain a lifetime of work had weighed on his body. All across the crowd were these pairs of hardworking people and the small children of their growing families. Many familiar, many not, but each face belonged to an individual who had contributed to the success that supported my kingdom.
My kingdom.
I almost choked on the thought. What was I doing up here? But I knew the answer. My decisions were what gnawed at my waning confidence.
My attention was drawn to the front of the crowd again, to a man a few yards from Mother. A flash of silver glinted as his hand dipped inside his cloak. I couldn’t read his face, but his eyes were dark and I staggered slightly. He grinned.
“My lady, are you feeling alright?”
Callithyia had shifted closer and passed her hand over my forehead, large elaborate gestures with holy water that would allow me to respond. I dared to peek around her, to see where the man was, but he’d vanished.
“I’m a bit warm, thank you.”
I kept my voice low and forced a small, grateful smile. Panic rose in my chest, but I fervently ignored the pressure. Jyn would know what to do. My eyes scanned for my guard, and my heart thudded against my ribs when I couldn’t find him. Behind me, he was behind me. I took another breath and fanned at my face with my hand. I was being ridiculous, the heat was addling my mind. Devlyn had ensured that no weapons were allowed into the ceremonial grounds, and there had been silence from him for a great many minutes now.
I caught a flick of motion in the corner of my eye, and Jyn was there. He passed me a laced fan but hesitated long enough to meet my eyes, a motion which gave me pause. Our private guards weren’t to show a personal familiarity with their charges, at least not in public. He had to have seen the man.
As swiftly as I had the thought, Jyn vanished.
The high priestess had turned away when Jyn stepped forward, and now she returned, her hands clutching a large silver and amethyst crown. She bowed her head low and said, “By the will of Nahara, this princess becomes queen. Blessings be.”
When she placed the piece on my hair, the weight was immense. Not simply the physical object but the mantle that came along with it. I couldn’t breathe. The air around me simply refused to enter my lungs. That knot was back, climbing up my throat as the sun threatened to roast me alive. Haze fogged the edges of my vision as I sucked in air. I forced myself to remain calm and swept into an elaborate curtsy before I stepped back to sit on the throne.
In my panic, I had almost missed the lack of reception at my crowning. But, as I looked out from my lowered position, the applause was scattered—well over half the crowd, but well under the entirety. Even some of those who cheered were straight-faced and nudged the person beside them in a stream of whispers. This was wrong, even the people before me thought so.
I had simply wanted to offer Mother some peace in her final days.
The butterflies in my stomach became small battering rams and slammed into my ribs in their efforts to escape. My back grew rigid as I sat, my motions careful imitations of things I had seen Mother do. Still, I saw the measuring looks, the skepticism that raced over the faces before me. Annalea stepped forward, a distraction as she dipped into a sweeping curtsy and vanished off the platform. Jyn was finally allowed to step forward, to my right, as Mother took her place. She raised her arm to gesture toward the visiting Royalty. They stood and took their leave behind the platform as Mother herself curtsied and stepped off, leaving me to offer my own farewell.
I reached for Jyn to steady myself as I stood and waved. Concern lit his expression, and he tilted his head to the side.
“Princess?” His voice was soft, barely a whisper above the noise nearby.
I inclined my head slowly, and his face cleared—back to the mask of lethal, observant calm. The butterflies stilled as I stepped out the door from the courtyard and into the palace gardens. Jyn kept pace at my right as I moved for the palace.
Traditionally, Thrais held a ball after a coronation, and Mother had upheld that custom as well. So, I needed to change gowns. Maybe Jyn was right. After what Mother had said this morning, perhaps she wasn’t so mad after all. I only wished she’d talk to me about all of this. When the Council told her I was to take her throne, she had put up a wall. Our already precarious relationship had changed, and not for the better. I wanted the chance to explain that I had only petitioned the Council to lift some of her own burden.
Mother was ill and, from what I’d overheard, her days grew short. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure she’d wanted me to know yet, but I did, and I decided to take matters into my own hands. I wanted to give her time—time to do anything she might not have done or to visit places she might not have seen. All I could offer her was some freedom. So why did I feel so terribly?
When two guards closed the large wooden doors behind us, I sighed heavily, shielded for the moment from prying eyes. I gripped Jyn’s arm and tugged him to a stop.
“Jyn—”
“Yes, Princess, I saw him. We’re not going to discuss the matter here.”
His eyes were sharp. I didn’t dare press the matter, especially
when shouts and loud clashes of armor and steel erupted from the front of the palace. Jyn grabbed one of the extra guards in the foyer. “Bring me updates immediately. I’m taking the queen to her chambers.”
Chapter 3
While we waited for the guard to report, I changed. Mother had adamantly put her foot down when I had asked to switch into a less formal gown—so, naturally, I picked a dress with no corset or underskirts.
I spun in the mirror and assessed myself. The glass in my hand sloshed water across my skin, and I put the crystal down to dry myself on the dress’ skirt. A gentle tap thudded from my door. “You don’t need to knock.”
Jyn shook his head as he stepped inside. “I could have been anyone.”
“I knew you were out there. What’s the news?”
“Devlyn has assured your mother that the palace is secure. Everyone in attendance this evening will be thoroughly checked before entering, no weapons permitted. So, to the ball we shall go.”
I nodded and met my reflection in the glass again. This dress was far more agreeable to my tastes, made almost entirely of layered silk tulle. The amethyst fabric swept up to tie behind my neck and the front plunged into a ‘v’ that touched the middle of my stomach before falling out into a long, artfully shredded skirt. Under the lower half was a thin slip, so I didn’t expose myself while dancing, but my back was entirely bared under the cascade of my hair.
A small sapphire teardrop hung at my throat, a simple pendant that I trailed over with my fingertips. Tiny matching dangles hung from my ears. I could still feel the phantom weight of all the baubles Raye had pulled from my hair, but the only weight on my head now came in the form of a plain silver circlet dotted with deep purple tanzanite stones.
Jyn crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. I rolled my eyes while spinning in a slow circle. When I finished the turn, his lips were pursed and his fingers pinched in mock thought at his chin. “I suppose it’ll do.”
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