by Jodi Meadows
“Why? No one cares what I wear, or if I get it dirty.”
“Not tomorrow.” I folded my choices and separated them from the rest. Then I turned to meet his eyes—my mirror eyes. “Tomorrow, you’ll be wearing these clothes to my coronation.”
His jaw dropped. “I can go?”
I forced a smile. “If you dress properly and promise to behave, you’re invited.”
“I will do anything you want, my queen.” Chrysalis knelt and lowered his head in genuflection. “Anything you want.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
EARLY THE NEXT morning, the seamstress, Rosanne Wallace, came to my room with a long, paper-wrapped package.
“What is that?” I glanced at the clock; it wasn’t even dawn.
“This was your mother’s coronation gown.” She turned on the light and hung the gown from the top of the wardrobe. Though there were likely several layers of paper for protection, the whole package seemed bigger than necessary. At least twice the size of any normal gown. “I thought you might wear it today. It was her mother’s before her, too.”
So it was old, out of fashion, and probably ready to fall apart. That seemed appropriate.
I rinsed my face and mouth before allowing her to measure me. She was quick and gentle, and muttered numbers to herself as she went. The whole time, the gown waited beneath its packaging, huge and mysterious.
“You’re taller than your mother,” said Rosanne. “And skinnier. We can let out some of the hem and take in some of the seams, but you won’t fill it out, I’m afraid.”
“I’m used to it.” I stepped off the measuring stool and started for the washroom again. The coronation was at noon, the ball in the evening, and then I’d be back to running the kingdom, this time with actual authority.
A terrifying thought.
“You’ll look beautiful today, even if I lose a finger to this needle.”
The corner of my mouth twitched up. “If you bleed on it, then I’ll have the vermilion gown, not just the vermilion throne.”
“There are a lot of us who’ve wanted you to take the throne these last months you’ve been here.” She moved toward the dress hanging on the wardrobe.
“I’ve waited ten years for this day, and now that it’s here, I can’t stop thinking of everything it’s cost.” Deaths. Betrayals. The destruction of an entire kingdom. “Patrick always said today would be the day I’d take the crown. If I could have done it yesterday, I would have. Or tomorrow. The idea that I’m doing exactly what he wanted . . .”
I bit off my words. I barely knew this woman.
But she was warm and kind, and my mother had trusted her.
“It may be what he wanted, but it sounds like it’s what you wanted, too.” She smiled thoughtfully. “Your coronation couldn’t fall on a more appropriate day. Today is the day the kingdom was lost—and the day it was reclaimed. Today will be remembered for the rest of time.”
I’d been wrong about the gown: it was old, but it wasn’t falling apart. It was a pre-wraith creation of scarlet wool and silk, with gold and silver embroidery over almost every surface. Swirls, angles, and intricate knots: the gown was an extraordinary creation.
The waist was lower than currently fashionable, settling snuggly around my hips and dipping into a knifepoint, but I liked the texture of the embroidery under my palms, and the way it fit flat against my stomach instead of looser like modern gowns. It felt old and regal, like a part of my family’s history I’d never had a chance to learn about.
Radiants had crafted this gown, Rosanne told me while she worked. There was an entire book on the subject, filled with details about the type of fabric used, the embroidery thread, and the magic that repelled dirt and moths and rips. Alterations had to be made with special needles—illegal to make under the Wraith Alliance, but the Wallace family had some for emergencies.
Tobiah would have loved to hear about this, but he never would.
My coronation today was only because he was dead.
Tobiah. My Ospreys. Thousands of others.
Rosanne and Melanie swept my hair into a loose, low bun, and secured it with a delicate net of gold silk. They powdered my face, darkened my eyelids, and softened the circles under my eyes.
“Where’s Danie?” Usually this was her job.
“Poor thing felt ill this morning, I heard.” Rosanne frowned in sympathy. When her back was turned, Melanie lifted an eyebrow and shook her head. Danie was gone.
“That’s such a shame,” I said, and let them get back to work. So, Danie had run. Just one more thing to deal with today. After I had the vermilion throne.
When they put a mirror in front of me, I hardly recognized myself. I looked dramatic and otherworldly as they hefted a thick, red cape and fastened it to the gown’s shoulders and sleeves.
“I suppose no one really likes being able to use their arms.” I lifted my arms to the side and grimaced at the weight of embroidered wool.
“Try not to do that,” Rosanne said. “Practice gliding instead of marching, and pulling the cape with your wrists as well as your shoulders to help distribute the weight. And try not to lift your arms until you sit, when attendants will unclip the cape. They’ll fasten it again when you need to stand.”
“My gown requires attendants.” Unbelievable.
Rosanne nodded. “Many queens’ clothing required either attendants or magic, pre-wraith. Fashion was forced to become simpler a hundred years ago.”
The gown had a short train, and the cape yet another. “How am I supposed to sit with all this?”
But the clock on the mantel struck noon, and when Rosanne finished clasping my chain around my neck—my child-sized signet ring dangling from the end like a pendant—she hurried from the room.
“I’ll fetch Chrysalis,” Melanie said on her way out. “I’ll keep him out of trouble and make sure he gets back to his room once the ceremony is finished.”
“Thank you.” I stepped out to find James in his dress uniform, waiting to escort me.
I gave him a moment to notice the gown, the sleeves, the enormous cape. A faint smirk appeared on his face.
“Say anything and I’ll smother you with my cape.”
“I was just going to suggest that red is your color.”
With a weak smile, I practiced my glide on the way to the throne room, and James offered unnecessary reminders: when to move, when to sit, what to say before and after the crown went on, and how to respond to the endless line of people swearing fealty to me.
The throne room doors were closed, only a pair of guards outside to watch for our arrival. One in red, one in blue. Both bowed. A rumble of voices came from within.
James signaled to the guards, and they hauled open the doors with a creak muffled by the sound of voices.
A hush fell over the crowd and all eyes turned toward the open doors. Merchants, soldiers, and nobility from all over. I caught smiles from the Calloways and Gray brothers, and a sullen frown from Prince Colin near the front.
I held my place while James strode down the aisle, tailcoats fluttering behind him. When he stood at the dais where the vermilion throne waited, he faced the audience. “It’s Aecorian tradition for visiting royalty to make a speech on coronation day. I regret that my cousin, King Tobiah, is no longer with us. Princess Wilhelmina has asked me to speak in his place. . . .”
There had to be a thousand people here. Everyone was crammed in close, and the stink of so many bodies wafted into the hall. But the tall, narrow windows on either side of the throne were wide open, which seemed rather unsafe, but this side of the castle overlooked a cliff and marsh and the wreckage of Snowhaven Bridge, rather than the city.
James had stopped talking.
Everyone was looking at me again.
I’d missed my cue, but the benefit of being queen was that people waited.
James stepped aside as I began what I hoped was a stately glide down the narrow aisle. As I passed, a couple of people reached out to brush their fingers a
gainst my sleeve, or touch the hem of my cape. Sometimes others shooed them away.
I clenched my jaw and kept my eyes on the throne, in silhouette earlier, but now that I was closer and the light had shifted, I could see that it was indeed carved from deep red wood, polished and gleaming, with a thin red cushion.
When I reached the dais, I climbed the steps and somehow—miraculously—managed to maneuver the dress and cape as I turned.
Standing before the crowd, my heart stumbling over itself, I wanted to pull back and slip into a persona. I wanted to wear the mask of a queen, something to hide behind so I didn’t have to think about the enormity of what I was doing. Becoming queen.
But not now. Not this time. These people needed me, Wilhelmina, not my impersonation of what I thought a queen should be. So as I spoke the rehearsed words, I found Melanie in the front of the crowd, Chrysalis close to her side, and said it all to my best friend.
I’d fight for my people. I’d rule fairly. I’d always remember that I served them.
When I finished, she smiled and offered a slight nod, and I performed the miracle of sitting while wearing an impossible gown. A pair of attendants sneaked up to unclip the cape from my sleeves.
A priest approached with a gold crown resting on a scarlet cushion.
Like my gown, the queen’s crown was an intricate display of swirls and angles and knots, all twisted into a delicate dome. There were no gemstones or pearls on it, no bands of silk or pads to soften its weight.
When the priest said the Saints’ Blessing over the crown, and then over me, my breath came in quiet gasps.
This was it. This was the day I’d waited over half my life for. I caught Melanie’s eye just before the priest’s sleeve swung in front of my face.
Then the weight began to settle. First in the front, around the sides of my head, and finally the back. It was forward heavy, but before I could reach up to straighten the crown myself, the priest nudged it back for me.
“Steady,” he murmured. “Try not to move your head.”
Glide. Don’t move my arms. Don’t move my head. Queens weren’t allowed to do anything but sit in difficult dresses.
Someone cheered. Maybe Melanie, maybe the wraith boy, maybe someone else. But all at once, everyone was cheering. The sound shook the throne room, making the stone floor vibrate under my feet.
I was queen.
“Queen Wilhelmina! Queen Wilhelmina!”
Queen when I’d realized maybe I shouldn’t be. Queen because friends had died for it. Queen because there was no one else.
I’d been given more lines to say as people approached to swear their fealty. To some people, I agreed they would keep their lands and titles. To others, I granted what they’d lost during or since the One-Night War. To most, I simply accepted their offers of service.
I was partway finished when someone’s attention strayed to the window beside the throne and they gasped. “The bridge!” Others shuffled closer to the windows to look.
“What?” I started to turn my head, but the crown slipped. I steadied it as I twisted to look out the window. “Oh, saints.”
The bridge was whole. Debris floated in the water, and cleanup teams were hard at work, but the bridge was entire. The deck—a new one, perhaps—stretched across the gap, and scores of people were crossing. Running, like they were afraid this was temporary.
“Melanie?”
She was at my side in an instant. “I didn’t have anything to do with this. How could I?”
“I was hoping you were just really good at your job.”
“The only thing I’ve done in the last hour is take the wraith boy back to his room.”
The answer was clear, though: a flasher was responsible.
A hum of anticipation filled the room as wagons and carts trundled across the bridge. People on horseback carried blue banners.
There were hundreds of new arrivals. Thousands, even.
After a while, the fealty oaths began again, but the distraction was obvious. Everyone from the Indigo Kingdom hoped one of their loved ones had crossed. But until the coronation was over, it would be insulting to leave, so everyone waited while we all tried to finish as quickly as possible.
An hour later, I’d accepted oaths from the remaining Aecorians, wondering if I should hold off on officially granting wardship to the Indigo Kingdom refugees until the rest arrived, when an attendant knelt and murmured, “Representatives from the Indigo Kingdom hope to greet you on your coronation day.”
“Send them in.” My head ached under the weight of the crown, and I was sweating under all the layers of clothes, but a good queen would greet them anyway.
The next part wasn’t rehearsed, but I knew what to say.
I lifted my voice for the entire throne room. “Any remaining oaths of fealty will be taken tomorrow. People of the Indigo Kingdom, I know you must be eager to see who’s arrived, so should you wish to become citizens of Aecor, that will happen tomorrow as well. Per the Wraith Alliance, titles of rank and nobility will remain, but will not hold any true authority unless specifically granted.”
From near one of the windows, Prince Colin shot me a glare, but there was nothing he could say to contradict me.
The crowd shuffled and a few merchants and soldiers slipped out side doors to help make more room. People moved away from the center of the throne room, giving me a direct view of the representatives at the door.
They weren’t just representatives, but people I knew: Queen Francesca and her sister, Kathleen Rayner. Chey, Margot, and a few other familiar faces from the ladies’ solar. And there was Sergeant Ferris and Captain Chuter, and—
A black-cloaked figure stepped ahead and pushed back his heavy hood and strands of unruly hair before he looked up.
King Tobiah Pierce.
PART FOUR
THE RADIANT HEIRS
THIRTY-NINE
THE THRONE ROOM was utterly silent as others recognized the new arrivals.
Four more people squeezed forward, eyes wide as they stared at the throne room, the inhabitants, and me.
Ospreys: Connor, Theresa, Carl, and Kevin.
They were alive.
As I leaned forward to stand, the attendants hurried to clip my cape into place. The heavy gown dragged at me, but I took to my feet and kept my neck stiff so the crown didn’t slip as I descended the dais steps, almost dreamlike.
Everyone was watching, but there was only one pair of eyes that drew me in. Dark. Mysterious. Familiar. He was dirty, and exhaustion marked his face with lines around his mouth and hollows under his eyes. He was alive. He’d never been so beautiful.
“Tobiah Pierce.” His name felt warm and sharp and hopeful. I stopped myself before repeating it, just to feel its shape again, but everything inside me felt like lightning. He was here. He was real. “I’d heard you were dead.” Only years of practice kept emotion from cracking my voice now.
“I certainly hope I’m not.” He was moving forward, too, striding toward me with the strangest half smile and heat in his eyes. The intensity, the honesty, was almost too much. It made the moments longer, like every step we took toward each other would be forever etched into my memory.
Others followed behind him. Some were quietly greeting friends, while others looked around with suspicion written on their faces. The Ospreys had already sneaked through the crowd and were hugging the Gray brothers, Paige, and Melanie.
Tobiah stopped just before me, tall, slender, and proud. When he reached from under his cloak to straighten my crown, I held so, so still. His fingers breezed through a strand of my hair; the near touch was electric. “You’ll get used to wearing this,” he whispered.
The crown. Yes. It was hard to think about the crown when he was here. He was alive. All the Skyvale Ospreys were, too. All the grief I’d trapped inside until I had a spare second to examine it and feel it—it surged through me now, transforming into relief.
I blinked away the tears blurring my vision. “You stopped writi
ng. That was inconsiderate.”
“Terribly rude, I know. But I brought you a gift. Maybe you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.” He stepped aside and swept out one arm, cloak fluttering. A line of men pushing canvas-covered carts came through the door.
Five carts. Ten. A dozen.
Everyone in the throne room stared silently as the men ripped away the canvas to reveal hundreds of thousands of palm-sized mirrored scales.
The Indigo Kingdom barrier.
Whispers cascaded through the room as people realized what Tobiah had brought, and what it could mean for Aecor. A cheer erupted, clapping and weeping and thankful prayers to the saints.
“Queen Wilhelmina Korte.” Tobiah dipped his eyes, a quick warning before he took my hand and lifted it to his chest.
Mine felt ready to explode, but I breathed through the sweeping elation of his life, our nearness, and the sound of his voice saying my name. I would be regal. I would be a queen.
“Wilhelmina,” he said again, and brought my hand to his lips. He kissed my knuckles, his eyes closed and his fingers tightening around mine. It lasted a heartbeat too long for politeness, and not nearly long enough for my heart. His jaw tightened when he released my hand. “I’d like to congratulate you on your ascension to the vermilion throne, and formally request refuge in the kingdom of Aecor—both for myself, and for my people. The Indigo Kingdom is lost. You are our only hope.”
It was a terrible, heavy burden.
Still, it was a burden I’d sworn to carry, so I pressed my hand to my heart and lifted my voice to be heard over the din. “King Tobiah Pierce, you and yours are welcome in Aecor for as long as you’d like. My home is your home.”
The coronation ceremony ended there.
Tobiah and James embraced. James’s mother found him and kissed his forehead again and again, while his expression shifted from glad to embarrassed. Though I took a few minutes to greet the Ospreys and Indigo nobility, there wasn’t time to enjoy this gift of their lives.
