Kingdom of Crowns and Glory

by Laura Greenwood et al.

  "That I'll be seen as nothing more than someone at your side and not a political entity myself?" he asked.

  "Mmhmm."

  "Then yes, I fully accept what it means to walk you down the aisle at your coronation." He stepped forward, bringing the two of us within touching distance for the first time since the conversation had begun. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed that until now. "And perhaps soon, you'll be walking down an aisle towards me."

  A blush spread across my cheeks along with a smile. "I hope so."

  He leaned in and kissed me, promising everything that I wanted in this one touch.

  "Now, let's go get you coronated," he said once we'd broken apart.

  "I suppose we should."

  He held out his arm and I linked mine with his. There wasn't far to go between the office and the main hall, but it took an age to walk them. My dress felt heavier the closer we got, though I suspected that it was because of what was going to happen, not because the fabric was changing weight.

  Voices streamed out from the great hall and I clutched tightly at the sleeve of Jonathan's jacket. Like the gentleman he was, he didn't say anything about it, just continued to lead me until we were standing outside the entrance.

  I took a deep breath. This was it. I was officially about to become the queen of my own kingdom. It had only taken a rebellion and some scheming on my enemy's part to get here. At least casualties had been minimal, potentially because Katya also had the same goals as we did.

  "Are you ready?" Jonathan asked as we came to a standstill.

  "No, but I'm going to do it anyway," I responded.

  He gestured to the guards on either side of the door and they flung them open. Trumpets began to sound and I began the slow walk down the centre of the aisle. The nobles on either side rose from their seats and watched intently as we walked past.

  Brutus and Rita beamed from the front row. I needed to make sure both of them were rewarded for their support with titles and lands for their families. They deserved everything I could possibly give them and more.

  I should also do something for Hannah's family. She could be a lady-in-waiting instead of my lady's maid. But now wasn't the time to be thinking about things like that, especially when the throne was rising up at the front of the room, just waiting for me to sit on it.

  Jonathan unhooked himself from me and went to sit in the front row. At least I'd be able to see his face while I went through all of this.

  I smoothed out my skirts and sat down on the throne. Around me, everyone else regained their seats too. For the first time, I was glad I'd been able to witness Killian and Katya's coronation, it let me know what to expect.

  Boredom, mostly. There were a few points at which I had to say something, but it was all such a haze that I was barely able to remember the words leaving my mouth. It wasn't until the crown was about to be placed on my head that things came back into focus.

  It was the same circlet that had crowned my family for generations, and now it would do the same for me. I'd worn it before, but this was something different.

  "I swear to serve the kingdom to the best of my ability, and to always put the needs of the people ahead of my own," I said.

  "Then I anoint you Queen Lucia. Please stand," the priest instructed everyone.

  The nobles rose, their eyes all trained on me and watching for my next move. Or potentially for a wrong one. I wasn't too sure which.

  "Long live the Queen!" someone shouted.

  The words echoed from every part of the hall, filling my heart and soul. I tried not to let the weight of that statement press into me too hard.

  I met Jonathan's gaze and my concerns melted away. I could do this. I had people around me who cared and supported me.

  For better or for worse, I was now the queen, and I had to do what was right for my people, no matter what that meant for myself.

  I'd done it. And now I had to live with that for the rest of my life. I just hoped I could do my family proud. The last thing I wanted was to disappoint them.

  Epilogue

  Two Years Later...

  Jonathan swept me up into his arms and twirled me around. I laughed lightly, enjoying the dancing even though I knew there were other things that needed my attention.

  "I can tell from the look in your eyes that you're thinking about work," he warned me. "And I'm going to tell you to stop it now. We're having a party, make the most of it."

  I chuckled. "Should I be worried about how well you know me?"

  "We've been married for nearly two years, I think you'd only be able to worry if I didn't know you by now," he quipped.

  I smiled as I looked up into his handsome face, amazed by how far my kingdom had come. Katya had set up the groundwork for prosperity, which meant that after I'd taken control again, the whole kingdom had become the place it should be. Harvests were up and the people were happy, at least as far as I could tell they were. I had a lot to thank her for, and I wished I could. But there was nothing I could give her that I hadn't already. I hoped she was off enjoying her happily ever after with Gideon. I assumed they were together after he wasn't anywhere to be found after the takeover.

  "I love you," I said.

  Jonathan beamed at me. "I love you too." He spun me around, going through the steps of the dance. We moved so well together that it was hard to remember our less than ideal start. He'd taken hold of a special place in my heart that no one else could ever reach. Yet.

  "Shall we get some wine?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "It's probably better if I don't drink any."

  "You're not going to work tonight," he reminded me. "You're going to stay here and celebrate the harvest with everyone else, and then we're going back to our rooms and sleeping."

  "I don't want to avoid wine so I can go back to work," I assured him, adding what I hoped was a knowing smile to my words. "There's another reason."

  He drew me away from the dance floor and towards the table laden with fruit and other refreshments from the guests. Harvest time was my favourite for this very reason. I got to enjoy all of the things I liked the most, all at the same time.

  Though I'd banned apples from the kitchens for now. In time, I'd be alright with them again, but for now, I just wanted to stay away from the crunchy fruit. They served as a bad reminder of what had happened. Even if there hadn't ever been any real danger, it hadn't felt that way at the time.

  "What possible reason could you have for not wanting to drink? Are you scheming?" Confusion coloured his voice.

  Mischief threaded through me. How long was it fair to keep him in the dark about this?

  "What are you hiding?" he asked, studying me intently.

  "How do you feel about becoming a father?" I asked.

  His face lit up. "Are you serious?" I could have sworn he started bouncing up and down at the mere thought.

  "I think so. The doctor thinks so..."

  He pulled me towards him and kissed me deeply, cutting off what I was trying to tell him. I didn't think it mattered any longer. He knew what I was hiding, and that he was going to be a father, and that was the main thing.

  "I'm so excited," he whispered against my lips.

  "Me too," I admitted, touching my stomach even though I wasn't showing yet.

  "We have so much to celebrate..."

  "We have every day to do that," I pointed out. "And I do. Every day with you is a blessing."

  "That it is. I'm so glad I took Gideon up on his offer to leave the palace. I don't want to think about what would have happened if I hadn't."

  I let a smirk lift the side of my lips. "Perhaps I'd now be married to Brutus," I joked, looking over in the direction of my former commander. He'd taken to lordly life well, but still looked uncomfortable in his formal clothing. By contrast, Rita was in her element, flitting between the various people and chattering away about this or that.

  "Don't even tease," he growled.

  "I only have eyes for you, Your Highness." I dippe
d into a curtsy.

  He rolled his eyes. "Don't even pretend you're not the one with all the power in this relationship," he pointed out. "You're the one with the crown and the people following you."

  "They love you, though. You see the way people seek you out for advice."

  "That's just because they can't always get to you," he countered. "But it hardly matters. I never truly needed a crown. I just needed you. And now our baby. They might be the heir to the throne, but I'm going to make sure they have the upbringing they need."

  "I'd like that. We should teach them everything they need to know in case their sister-in-law launches a fake coup against them." The words stung even as I said them, but I also knew they were true. I didn't want any of my children to be as unprepared as I was.

  "I promise that we'll help prepare them for the worst, and ensure that they only inherit the best," Jonathan promised.

  "Thank you," I whispered.

  He leaned in and kissed me again.

  This was it. The happily ever after that I hadn't thought could be mine when Katya threw me from my own palace. But now it was, and I was going to enjoy every moment of it.

  The End

  Thank you for reading Fractured Core. If you enjoyed it, don't forget to pick up the sister book, Poisoned Fate in the Kingdoms Of Villains and Vengeance Collection (which tells Katya's side of the story!) If you want more from the Untold Tales series, you can check out Balanced Scales (the Little Mermaid), Golden Wings (Thumbelina) and Braids Of Silver (Rapunzel).

  The Cursed Heart by H.M. Gooden

  Chapter 1

  Gently closing the door, I knew I was done for the night. I’d been working as hard as humanly possible over the last few months to prepare, but it had done nothing to help with my nerves. No matter how much I did, the niggling fear of completely bombing the audition to McGill plagued me and had woken me up at least once a week for the last several months.

  It wasn't about the marks though; it was the numbers. Without knowing how many others were in the running, I couldn’t estimate my chance of success. Which led me here instead of doing something more relaxing on a Friday night. Every time I had a chance, I rented a practice room to increase my odds.

  How could grade twelve almost be over?

  The feeling I was running out of time was dogging my heels. I headed to the main entrance, walking down the silent and dimly lit corridors of the McGill School of Music. The tail end of a familiar voice singing an aria I’d been practicing ten minutes earlier caught my attention and I grimaced.

  It was always hard to compare oneself to another, but her version sounded better to my ears. Damn it! I checked my coat buttons and tried to straighten my unruly hair. Just as I finished, she glided out of the practice room to my right.

  My nemesis, whether or not I even registered on her radar, was a perfect ice blond from my class. She looked up, seemingly startled to see anyone there, and gave me a perfunctory, polished smile. "Oh. Hello, Robin. Practicing?"

  She swung her perfectly cut bob, causing it to fall into a neat waterfall. As if it would dare step out of line. I pushed a strand of my own frizzy, dirty-blond hair behind my ear. At least mine was restrained in a pony-tale tonight, which kept it mostly under control. But compared to Melissa, I felt as dowdy as always.

  "Yup. You?"

  Melissa shrugged. "You know how it is. I want to make sure I do a good job at the concert."

  Shoving back the stab of jealousy at her innocent reminder, I tried to smile politely. She was singing a role I had tried out for in the school play. To make matters worse, I was now her understudy, which meant I had to practice the same songs in case she wasn’t able to perform. And while I wanted to hate her, I couldn’t deny she was the best person for the part.

  Oh God— what if she was auditioning for McGill?

  There’s no way they’ll pick me over her. Great. I wish I was half as perfect as she is. Hardly noticing I had fallen into step with her, I was startled out of my thoughts when she said goodbye.

  "I guess I'll see you around school next week?" She bounced down the steps with a wave, heading to the car waiting beside the curb. At that time of night, parking wasn’t an issue unless there was a concert.

  "Yeah, see you around."

  I watched as the car drove off, wondering what it was about Melissa that set my teeth on edge. Was it because she always looked so perfect? Maybe I was too self-conscious, but I always felt she was looking down on me for being too loud, or because my hair was too messy.

  No matter how many times I’d told myself it was just my imagination, I wasn’t able to believe it. It wasn’t even like she’d ever done or said anything. She wasn’t mean or a gossip, and if I was honest with myself, jealousy could have played a role. As I turned up the hill toward my house on Van Horne, I admitted the truth to myself, even if I’d never admit it out loud to anyone else.

  I was completely jealous.

  Ever since I’d met her, I had secretly wished I could be more like her. She seemed so effortless with everything she did. Her marks were good, her voice was amazing, and she had the large group of friends I wished I had.

  I had a tendency to fade into the background in a crowd, being too shy to speak much when there were a lot of people around. Unless, of course, I managed to say the completely wrong thing, usually when the music died and everyone else was quiet. Maybe if my voice was quieter, I wouldn't feel like so much of a spaz. Or maybe it was just the way I was, and I needed to get used to it.

  The long walk on the late spring night gave me a chance to mull over my anxieties so that by the time I walked in the door, I’d pretty much come to terms with my Melissa issues. Well, accepted them at least.

  "Dad! I'm home!"

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just after ten, and the house was dim except the foyer and a faint light from the French glass doors into the study. I smiled, not really sure why I announced myself anymore.

  If my dad wasn't asleep in the bedroom, I could find him in the study pretty much any hour of day or night. I dropped my bag onto the sofa on my way through, making sure take my shoes off to avoid tracking in the perpetual spring slush onto the hardwood floor.

  As expected, he was there with his head bent over his desk. The old-fashioned, Tiffany style lamp made his head glow a warm brown. My hair was a shade or two lighter than his. Depending on who you spoke to it was a boring light brown or dirty blond. I’d decided to call mine blonde for now, but my hair had been steadily darkening through the years and I was certain I’d end up with the same hair color as him soon unless I decided to start experimenting.

  So far, I’d held off. He wasn’t keen on it and his argument had made sense. He’d accurately pointed out that in auditions, more traditional hairstyles were looked on favorably, especially if I wanted to be an opera singer. Maybe next year after I was accepted into the Department of Music, but for now, I stuck to trims when I did get a cut. I rarely saw female opera singers of note with short hair, let alone anything approaching avant-garde.

  When he didn't look up, I cleared my throat. He turned, his glasses nestled on top of his head like a headband, and smiled. "Oh, hello. How was practice tonight?"

  I shrugged, walking into the room and leaning over to give him a hug. He dropped a kiss on my hair, ruffling it lightly. When I pulled back, I frowned at the messy stack of papers in front of him.

  "What happened here? Your desk looks like it was attacked by a paper monster!"

  His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down, then relaxed as he chuckled. "What’s that? Oh, yes. It’s something new I'm working on. I read an article recently in a history journal and was just fact checking."

  He shook his head and I saw his eyes become unfocused again. I knew I was losing him back into his work and tried to rein him back in.

  "That's great, Dad. Um, did you eat supper?"

  He blinked, squinting as if trying to remember. I rolled my eyes. He would forget to eat at all if I didn’t remin
d him. He was technically an English professor at McGill, but was obsessed with old manuscripts from Northern Europe. I couldn’t count how many times he’d skipped a meal when he was in the middle of researching something.

  "That's generally a no if you have to think about it. Would you like me to make you some soup and a sandwich, or something from the fridge?"

  He smiled. "That'll be nice, honey. Grilled cheese and tomato soup?" He patted my shoulder as I turned away. I was almost to the door of the kitchen when he unexpectedly spoke again. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Something came in the mail for you today. That package on the chair beside the door."

  He pointed at the chair in the living room, outside the French doors, and it was my turn to squint in confusion.

  "Was I supposed to be expecting something?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's from a relative or something. Early birthday present?"

  I raised my eyebrows, but he'd already turned back to his work. Based on how engrossed he was in whatever he was reading, I gave up and headed to the mysterious parcel. Anything I asked him from that point on was unlikely to be answered with any serious thought as he was back in research land and very far away.

  I was thoroughly intrigued by now. He’d thrown out the possibility of an early birthday present, but I couldn't think of a single relative who'd ever sent me anything by mail. Not to mention it was months until my birthday.

  Could he have ordered something and forgot it was coming?

  I picked up the box, holding it carefully. It was about the size of a Jack-in-the-Box or a lunchbox, perfectly square, and wrapped in brown parcel paper that had been taped everywhere. I was impressed by the level of commitment someone had put into making sure it remained unopened until it got to me and knew I’d need help opening it.

  I wandered into the kitchen and placed it on the counter as I got the fixings ready for soup and sandwiches. My stomach had overruled my curiosity the minute I’d seen the fridge. Late night singing on Friday had made me starving and most days my dad forgot to eat if I didn't prompt him. It was entirely possible he hadn’t eaten at all today. Smiling at my dad’s absent mindedness, I prepared sandwiches and got the soup on before turning to the box.