by Grace Draven
Interesting that they picked that spot. “Thank you,” I told her, fervently. “I’ll be right down.”
“No need to hurry, I think.”
“But they don’t speak Tala and he speaks nothing but. I should go translate.”
“They seemed to have a plan. I wouldn’t worry.” She patted my shoulder, wholly unaware of how much could still go wrong, and nodded to Ursula. “I’m glad we made it back in time. I must go bathe and change.”
“You don’t need to be present,” Ursula told her. “Aren’t you tired from the journey?”
Zynda’s grin lightened her face. “A bit, but I wouldn’t miss seeing my cousin crowned High Queen for anything in the world. Salena would come back and haunt me for it!”
Zynda turned with a jaunty wave, missing the strange expression that crossed Ursula’s face, the way she touched a hand to her stomach. She left again, singing a song I recalled Zyr had liked. It felt like forever ago since that going away party. The ladies finished strapping on the metal kirtle needed to support the heavy skirts of the gown.
“I feel like I’m in one of those cages the ladies keep their birds in,” Ursula remarked. “As I can barely breathe, don’t be surprised if I make whistling noises.”
“This was your idea,” I said again, to save Denise having to. Though I’d been dubious about Ursula’s concept, and whether it could be done in time—or at all—I had to admit that, as they added the final layers, it was an extraordinary accomplishment.
The ladies added first the petticoats over the metal kirtle, then the red velvet undergown in pieces. The bodice followed.
Then the actual gown on top of it all.
Made from polished silver chain mail from the armory, the skirts required three ladies to lift and hold them in place as they attached them with sturdy hooks to the boning of the corset. Denise fitted the bodice over the top, using silver ribbons to secure it, then stepped back to study the effect.
The gown fell as any dress would, from the high neck to the narrow waist, then flaring out to mimic cloth skirts, but constructed entirely of metal. The armorer had created it according to the lines Denise gave him and he’d outdone himself. The final result looked as if she wore armor shaped as a gown. The armorer had even been able to create a golden sheath affixed to the waist and skirt so she could wear her sword.
Ursula tested the grip. “It’s not exactly the right angle for my best speed.”
“If you have to draw your sword today,” I said, “we have bigger problems than that.”
She flicked me a glance and didn’t reply, but Harlan snorted softly.
The rubies at her breast and wrists, set in gold, matches to the one in the pommel of her sword, caught the color of her hair and the undergown. Her eyes glinted as silver as the sparkling links, striking exactly the right note
She was magnificent.
The ladies oohed, put the last touches on her hair and the subtle makeup Ursula had agreed to, and bowed out to take their places in the hall. Ursula remained still for a moment longer, a somber expression on her face as she studied herself in the mirror, making me wonder what she saw there.
“Nervous?” Harlan asked her, before I could, which meant he earned the glare instead.
“I’m having a big piece of jewelry stuck on my head,” she retorted. “What’s to be nervous about?”
He stood, surveying her, then gave her a hand to step down from the pedestal they’d had her on, and some of her tension melted at his touch. Though the toes of her silver heeled boots showed under the shorter hem at the front, the back dragged heavily on the floor, making a soft gravelly noise, like the amplified sound of a snake sliding through grass or over sand. A dramatic effect, but...
“Does it weigh too much?” I asked her.
“I won’t be sprinting in it, Danu knows. If you wish me to be painted in it, you’d best hire a fast artist.”
“But can you dance in it?”
“I will not be dancing,” she said in a firm tone. “I shall sit on my new throne and oversee the dancing and that’s final. Hopefully no one will try to attack me as I’d be a sitting duck even if I could draw fast enough.”
Harlan grinned at her. “Then I shall have to stand at the ready to defend my lady fair.”
“Ha-ha. More likely I’ll need those muscles to lever me up off the floor if I topple over. That would scandalize the court, their High Queen stranded on her back like a turtle.”
“You look magnificent,” Harlan echoed my thoughts. “The chain-mail gown is the perfect choice. Is it like enough to your vision?”
What vision? Her lips trembled a bit as she smiled at him. Tears pricked my own eyes. To compose myself and give them the illusion of privacy, I checked the crown. It also was a fine choice, much simpler than Uorsin’s had been, a broader gold band than the circlet, that swelled to an upward point over her forehead, set with three of Salena’s rubies in a staggered line, to represent the three goddesses, the topmost cut to resemble Danu’s star.
“Close enough,” she answered him. “And all the better that this one does not paralyze me.”
“And you’re not alone,” he said. “You changed the story.”
“I think you did. I wouldn’t be standing here today without you.”
They were quiet. If I could have, I’d have vanished myself from the room. Finally Harlan said, “It’s the perfect symbol. Salena would approve—and be very proud of you at this moment.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”
Satisfied the crown had no smudges and that Ursula would have composed herself, I closed the lid. “Ready?”
They looked good together, Harlan also in matching chain mail, with a crimson velvet shirt beneath that matched the rubies. Just as well the banner Ami designed had been also done in gold, silver and ruby red: a hawk stooping—though its talons clutched a strand of ivy, the symbol for peace—with a sun and crescent moon on either side, Danu’s star at the peak. It lay ready to ascend Ordnung’s heights as the coronation was completed.
I didn’t expect the overwhelming swell of sentiment. As long as I’d dreamed of this day, I hadn’t expected to feel like this, as if everything had truly come together, shimmering like the harmony of gold and silver together. A shining omen of a good future for us all, one of peace and prosperity.
“Yes.” Ursula touched the hilt of her sword and squared her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with so we can get back to doing something useful. Like breathing.”
It felt good to laugh. Good to enjoy this feeling for as long as it lasted.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As promised, I found the White Monk, Kaedrin, and the Tala shaman gathered in the small grassy courtyard. They should have seemed like an odd grouping—the pale, ancient man in his white robes; the warrior woman, dressed in silver armor so bright it hurt the eyes; and the fur-clad shaman, dark hair falling in knotted ropes around his shoulders, braided with bits of colorful rags and beads. The three stood in a circle around the unseasonably green grass, eyes closed in prayer or silent communion.
Kaedrin opened her eyes at my approach, senses as acute as Ursula’s. “This is good,” she intoned, sounding not at all like herself. Her eyes burned bright as her armor and I felt as if Danu herself studied me. The shaman turned also, deep blue eyes so dark as to be midnight, Moranu’s shadows in them. The White Monk smiled at me with Glorianna’s infinite love.
“You can leave the ceremony to us,” Kaedrin said. “We are ready.”
As one, they inscribed the symbols of their goddesses in the air over the living grass, Glorianna’s circle, Moranu’s crescent, Danu’s sword. Then they turned and walked side-by-side toward the great hall.
So much for discussing details.
I lingered a moment longer, taking a calming breath after looking into the gazes of three goddesses. Feeling the reverence of the moment, I offered up a prayer, as I seldom did. Then drew a circle in the air, cut by the crescent, bisected by
the sword.
For a moment I imagined I felt Salena’s cool hand on my brow. A murmur of her voice in my ear, that day coming back so vividly, the red-faced baby girl in my arms.
“You’re holding the future High Queen, Dafne. I won’t be there, but you will. I’m trusting her to you.”
“Thank you, Salena,” I whispered to the air. “You are remembered this day.”
I went in and took the side door, to come in behind the great throne that now stood alone at the head of the hall, facing the new window high over the entrance. Taking the crown from its box, I set it on the seat of the throne and stepped back to observe. Everyone who’d been able to had assembled, the hall as full as I’d ever seen it. So much so that the center aisle barely stood free enough for passage.
My vantage point, behind and off to the side, let me scan all the faces. All had broken out their finest clothing and jewels, making the occasion the grandest of any I’d seen, including Ami and Hugh’s wedding. In the forefront stood the highest representatives of most of the Thirteen Kingdoms, some royal, some not. I almost didn’t recognize Ambassador Laurenne in her cloth of gold gown and the elaborate traditional headdress of Aerron. King Teodor flanked her, meeting my gaze with a grave nod. Good for him. On his other side, stood the young future king and queen of Erie and Remus, Cavan and Nix. They looked like bookends, she as fair as he was dark. Did all the denizens of Remus share that coloring? With her pale blue eyes, winter-white skin and ivory hair, she looked to be carved from ice. Except for the pink blush when Cavan smiled at her.
As we’d agreed, Ami and Andi stood on either side of the center aisle, both wearing Salena’s rubies. Rayfe, who I’d never seen dressed so formally, stood beside Andi, both of them dressed in the bloodred of Tala royalty. Ash ranged a few spaces back from Ami, wearing the white robes of his order. Ami hadn’t liked it, but agreed to the protocol, wearing the purple and green of Avonlidgh. Lady Veronica of Lianore, who’d saved us once on the journey to Windroven, accompanied Ami, arm in arm with one of the Vervaldr. Her eyes sparkled with great excitement.
I’d been dubious about the wisdom of it—and the potential debacle—but Astar and Stella played at Ami’s feet. Stella with her wild dark curls wore a tiny version of Andi’s bloodred velvet, the image of both her aunt and of her Grandmother Salena. Astar, her fair mirror, in the colors of Avonlidgh. He gazed about at the spectacle with wide blue eyes the color of the summer sky and I caught my breath, seeing Hugh so strongly in him.
All of our ghosts, present and accounted for.
A hush fell over the room and the great doors opened, spilling noonday light through, to add to the colors scattered by the window of the Goddesses. It splintered off Ursula, scattering diamonds of light like stars, and a sigh ran through the assembly.
She moved slowly down the center aisle, head held nobly high. Harlan followed, her personal guard, forever at her back.
No one had even tried to argue about that.
As she passed, like a wave, the people bowed to her. The guard along the walls bent their heads with respect and reverence. No one could fail to be moved by the sight. Even the faces of her detractors held awe. They’d no doubt be back to squabbling as soon as tomorrow, but at this sacred noon, peace united us all.
Perhaps Salena had seen this key image. I hoped so.
The three celebrants stepped up to form a triangle before the throne, Kaedrin at the center, flanked by the White Monk and the Tala shaman. Ursula stopped before them and inclined her head.
The Tala shaman spoke to Andi and she answered the summons. She held still and calm as he turned over her hand, placed a black feather in her palm. One, I felt certain, that came from Rayfe’s bird form. Then he used a large blade to cut her wrist. I’d held her hand long ago when he’d done the same at her wedding, binding her with blood to Rayfe. She hadn’t flinched either time.
Magic filled the air, heavy and prescient.
The White Monk beckoned Ami to step forward, taking her hand in his, then filling her palm with pink rose petals. Kaedrin handed him a small dagger and poised it over her delicate wrist. She glanced back at Ash, who gave her a slow nod. Echoing it, she said something I couldn’t hear to the White Monk, then winced as he cut her wrist in a shallow swipe, holding it so her bright blood flowed over the petals, reddening them.
Kaedrin asked Ursula for her sword, which she drew fast enough to my eye, then told her to hold up her hands. With exquisite skill, she used the tip to score Ursula’s palms, opening twin wells of blood. Taking the stained rose petals from Ami, Kaedrin filled Ursula’s right palm with them. Then she placed the feather from Andi, now crimson with her blood, into Ursula’s left hand.
Holding the sword hilt wrapped in both hands, pointing straight to the sun, high overhead, Kaedrin spoke.
“Child of Danu, she of the bright blade and the clear eyes, you come before these people to right the wrongs of the past. This is no honor the goddesses bestow upon you, but the gravest onus. The paths of blood, of family, of training, and duty have brought you to this moment, but now the decision rests with you. The mantle of responsibility that awaits you will weigh heavier than any armor. Will you take it upon you, knowing that no power, no ambition, no worldly wealth will ever balance its weight? The eyes of your people rest on you, their blood on your hands. Will you take up your sword to protect them? Will you clasp the sword that Danu gives you, seal it with the mercy of Glorianna and the sorcery of Moranu? Will you bind them, as you bind the kingdoms who will look to you forever more, for protection, for guidance, for the love that is Glorianna’s, for the life-giving magic that is Moranu’s, and for the unflinching justice that is Danu’s?”
Ursula’s eyes, clear steel as the sword before her, met Kaedrin’s. She didn’t hesitate.
“I will.”
Kaedrin lowered the hilt between Ursula’s palms, wrapping her hands around the High Queen’s as she clasped the blood, petals and feather to the shining metal.
“I give you Danu’s blessing, to reign, to protect your realm and dispense justice in her name.”
The White Monk set back his hood and put his hand on Ursula’s right shoulder. He said nothing, but the love and serenity in his smile spoke everything. The shaman did likewise, clasping Ursula’s left shoulder, saying in Tala, “Through my hand to your blood, Moranu speaks, giving life and magic to the lands you watch over, forever more.”
They held the moment the air shimmering with numinous presence.
Kaedrin looked to me. “The crown, librarian.”
I nearly didn’t move, so stunned was I. Their plan had not accounted for getting the crown onto the High Queen? Aware of the weight of the moment, I tried to move gracefully, taking up the crown without smudging it and carrying it to Kaedrin. Though her face remained solemn, the aura of Danu about her still, her gaze held amusement.
“The goddesses bless you,” she said, her voice carrying. “But the law sets the crown upon your head. Accept this symbol of your rule from your chosen councilor, as you will also forever accept her counsel.”
My heart nearly stopped, sweating fingers slipping on the polished metal. This was not the plan. Ursula’s silver-edged gaze found mine, narrow lips curving into a smile at my expense. “I so accept the wisdom of history and the knowledge of law from my chosen councilor.”
Nothing for it but to do it. I stepped forward, totally unsure how I’d reach. Not through the tangle of arms and the sword, certainly. I moved behind Ursula and Harlan dropped to one knee, offering a hand. All right then. I stepped onto the platform of his thigh, unutterably grateful that he steadied me by the hips. With utmost care, I set the crown on Ursula’s head, settling it there as I’d done with her circlet only months before.
It should have been absurd and yet, it all felt exactly right. It was done.
Salena’s voice murmured in my memory.
Perfect.
EPIGRAPH
I stepped outside the ballroom onto a balcony, in need of air and a
quiet moment to myself.
Ordnung blazed with light as I’d never seen it. The walls glowed white even in the dark of night, lit by thousands of torches. Everywhere music and shouts of joy rang out.
High on the towers, Ursula’s banner flew proudly, along with the newest, for all Thirteen Kingdoms. The thirteen interlinked rings formed a chain within the three overlapping circles of the goddesses. A fine companion to Ursula’s hawk and a flag that would, Goddesses willing, outlast us all. Never mind that the Remus Isles would make for fourteen. Perhaps we needed to think of a name that wouldn’t include numbers.
“Had enough dancing?” Zynda leaned on the railing next to me.
“And then some,” I replied. “I haven’t danced this much since...” My going away party in Annfwn.
Zynda tossed back her long hair, damp with sweat at her temples. “Anyone special?”
“Dance partners? Goddesses no.” Though it seemed a fair number of men who hadn’t known my name before today had become quite friendly. The price of a suddenly high profile.
“Zyr said hello, by the way, and I’m to ask if you’ve changed your mind. Something going on between you two I should know?”
“No,” I said, a little too fast. Making her raise her brows in question. “I mean—he’s not for me. A lovely man, to be sure, but I really don’t think that—”
Zynda held up a hand, laughing. “You don’t have to fall over yourself to explain.”
But I remembered that night. That kiss. A song not meant for me, but maybe somewhere out there... Maybe you need to do less waiting and more wandering. No. That was foolish sentimentality. Maybe a bit of let-down after so much planning and excitement. My place was in Ordnung, with the High Queen. It would be enough.
I hadn’t forgotten Andi’s vision, of Dasnarians in our future. I would be far too busy for frivolities like dancing or kissing handsome men. Certainly no wandering. With trials ahead of us, I might look back and be grateful to have had the energy to feel restless.