Chapter 27 Coronation day
The morning of my coronation dawned golden and bright.
I stood before the mirror in my chambers as my handmaidens circled me like moths, adjusting and pinning and murmuring. The gown was Aurelian through and through, white silk embroidered with gold thread, a train that stretched for yards, sleeves that brushed the floor. It was the most beautiful dress I had ever hated.
"You look like the sun," Liriel said softly.
"I don't want to look like the sun. The sun burns everything it touches."
"Perhaps that's appropriate," Thalia murmured, adjusting my train. "You've been burning since you arrived."
I almost smiled.
Ash was perched on the back of my chair, his tail flicking with disapproval. He did not like the gown. He did not like the coronation. He did not like anything about this golden kingdom that had swallowed his mistress whole. I reached out and scratched the ridge above his eye.
"I know," I murmured. "I don't like it either."
He rumbled in agreement.
There was a knock at the door. Sera opened it, then stepped back with a surprised expression.
"Your Majesty," she said. "The King is here."
Cardan stepped into the room.
He was dressed in full ceremonial regalia, white and gold, a crown already on his head, his bronze hair swept back from his face. He looked every inch the High King. Beautiful. Powerful. Untouchable. Beautiful in the way a statue was beautiful.
He stopped when he saw me.
Something flickered in his silver eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or something deeper. His gaze swept over the gown, the train, the intricate gold embroidery that must have taken a dozen seamstresses weeks to complete. His lips parted slightly.
"You're staring," I said.
"You look..." He stopped. Swallowed. "The carriage is waiting."
"Then we shouldn't keep it."
I swept past him before he could say anything else.
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The Grand Temple was packed.
Hundreds of courtiers filled the pews, their silks and jewels glittering in the light that streamed through the stained-glass windows. The High Lords and their ladies occupied the front rows. The human delegation sat in a place of honor, Sebastian among them, his hazel eyes tracking me as I walked down the aisle.
At the altar, the High Priestess waited. Her robes were white and gold. Her expression was serene. Her eyes were sharp.
"Who comes before the sacred flame?" she intoned.
"Princess Nyx Andromeda Viveca Morrigan Windsor," Cardan answered. His voice was steady, carrying through the silent temple. "Consort to the High King. Daughter of the Shadow Throne. She comes to be crowned."
The ceremony blurred after that.
I knelt on the cold marble steps. The High Priestess anointed my forehead with oils that smelled of honey and sunlight. She spoke words in the Old Tongue that I barely heard. She placed the crown on my head, a delicate thing of gold and diamonds, lighter than I expected, heavier than it looked.
"Rise, Queen Nyx," she said. "Queen Consort of Aurelia. Protector of the Realm. Keeper of the Flame."
I rose.
The court applauded. The High Lords bowed. Somewhere in the crowd, I caught a glimpse of Elowyn's face, pale and furious, her crooked smile nowhere to be seen.
Good, I thought. Let her be angry. Let her see that I am not so easily erased.
Cardan offered me his arm. I took it.
"Congratulations," he murmured, his lips barely moving. "You're officially one of us."
"I was never one of you. A crown doesn't change that."
"No," he agreed. "It doesn't."
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The banquet was held in the Great Hall.
Tables stretched the length of the room, groaning under the weight of golden plates and crystal goblets and more food than any court could possibly eat. Musicians played in the corner. Courtiers danced and laughed and drank. It was, by all accounts, a magnificent celebration.
I sat at the head table, Cardan on one side and, to my surprise, Sebastian Valois on the other.
"A strategic seating arrangement," Sebastian murmured, leaning close. "The High King wants to keep an eye on me. And I, apparently, am to be entertained by the new Queen."
"Are you entertained?"
"Immensely." His hazel eyes sparkled. "You look resplendent tonight, Your Majesty. Though I suspect you'd look more beautiful in black."
"I'm required to wear gold. It's the Aurelian way."
"The Aurelian way is overrated."
I found myself fighting a smile. "You're not supposed to say that out loud."
"I'm human. We say all sorts of things we're not supposed to."
Further down the table, I noticed Princess Cressida and her husband Lord Thornwood. Between them, perched on a cushioned chair that was far too large for him, was a small boy.
Their son.
I had heard Cressida had a child, the servants' gossip had mentioned him in passing, but I had never seen him before. He was perhaps two years old, with his mother's honey-brown hair and his father's bland, forgettable features. He was playing with a golden spoon, banging it against the table with the particular enthusiasm of toddlers everywhere.
"Your nephew," Sebastian observed, following my gaze. "The heir to the Thornwood estates. And, if the King remains childless, quite high in the line of succession."
"How do you know that?"
"I make it my business to know succession lines. They're very important in my line of work."
"Spying?"
"Diplomacy." He smiled. "Also spying."
Cressida caught me looking. Her expression flickered, something cold, something calculating, and then she smiled, lifting her son onto her lap with practiced grace.
"Your Majesty," she called down the table. "Have you met my little Theodore? We call him Teddy. He's been so eager to meet his new aunt."
The child stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes. Then he went back to banging his spoon.
"Charming," I said.
"He has his father's disposition."
"That's either a compliment or an insult." Sebastian muttered.
"She can take it however she likes."
Sebastian laughed quietly. "I like you, Queen Nyx. You're not afraid to speak your mind."
"Speaking my mind is what always gets me into trouble in the first place."
"And yet here you are. Crowned. Celebrated. Sitting at the head table." He raised his glass. "It seems speaking your mind is working out rather well."
I clinked my glass against his. "You're either an optimist or a fool."
"Can't I be both?"
"Not in this court. Optimists don't survive here. And fools..." I glanced at Elowyn, who was watching us from across the room with undisguised fury. "Fools don't last long either."
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Elowyn cornered me after the third course.
"A word, Your Majesty." Her voice was honeyed venom. "In private."
I excused myself from Sebastian and followed her to a quiet alcove near the musicians. The music was loud enough to cover our conversation. Deliberately chosen, I suspected.
"You're making a spectacle of yourself," Elowyn hissed. "Laughing with the human lord. Letting him lean close to you. Touching his arm."
"I touched his wine glass. That's hardly scandalous."
"You're the Queen Consort. You are married to my brother. Your behavior reflects on the entire court."
"My behavior has been perfectly appropriate. Lord Valois is a diplomat. I am being diplomatic." I smiled. "You should try it sometime."
Elowyn's eyes blazed. "You think you're so clever. You think your crown protects you. But you're still an outsider. You're still that ugly monster from Hel. And the court will never forget it."
"The court can think what it likes. I am not here for their approval."
"Then why are you here?"
It was a good question. I paused, considering it.
"I'm here because an oath binds me to your brother," I said finally. "I'm here because of my people. I'm here because I refuse to be driven away by a woman who has never done anything but scheme and sneer and manipulate." I stepped closer, my voice dropping. "You want to know why I'm here, Elowyn? I'm here because I belong here. Not because your court accepts me. Not because your brother loves me. But because I am
meant to be here. And you, with all your scheming and your secrets and your desperate clinging to power, you have not."
Elowyn's face went white.
"Enjoy the rest of the banquet," I said. "I hear the dessert course is excellent."
I walked away before she could respond.
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