Against the Reign

by Dove Winters

  Five

  Come nightfall, Marguerite takes Monroe back down to her room in the servants’ quarters. Ward has been my only friend for years. Since I was little I got along better with boys than girls. I enjoyed playing their sports and I didn’t mind getting dirty. Prancing around with little dolls wasn’t my style. But I find myself comfortable with Marguerite. She seems like someone who won’t judge me for being me.

  After she leaves, I fall fast asleep. I’m dreaming contentedly when a firm hand grasps my shoulder and awakens me.

  “Princess! Princess, you must come with me!” I blink and squint at the person holding an oil lamp above me. It’s Ferrant. Since my father and Rayner are gone, Ferrant is in charge. His presence in my room startles me fully awake.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You must come with me! Something has happened.” It’s all he’ll tell me. Clutching my dagger close to me, I rise, and he hands me the lamp so he can draw his sword. “To the Meeting Room.”

  The Meeting Room is in the deepest part of the castle, away from doors and windows. I lead the way with Ferrant on my heels, walking so close to me he steps on me more than once. I sense the urgency in him and my heart begins to pound with anxiety. The door to the room is already under heavy guard. They let us through and I see Vian already sitting at the large, oval table. His eyes are wide and he looks just as confused as I am. I stand beside him to take in our surroundings.

  Several members of my father’s court are there. I assume we’re waiting for the rest. They’re mostly in night clothes, except a few that were probably still awake when the meeting was called. Their faces look worn and stressed, and my hands begin to sweat on the handle of the dagger. I stay close to Vian, glancing down to see if he has his sword; he does.

  “What’s going on, Ginny?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. But until we do, keep your hand on your sword. If we need to fight, you need to be ready,” I tell him. His eyes widen and he grabs the hilt.

  “Where are the others?” Ferrant asks a guard who just entered the room.

  “They’re coming. But they might delay. They have to make sure they’re not being followed,” the guard says.

  “We can’t wait. Get them.” Ferrant sends the guard away and shuts the door. The members of the court that are present gather around him. My anxiety reaches a new height as they turn to face us. “I won’t leave you wondering why you’re here. There was an attack on your father’s carriage while he was traveling.”

  “What happened? Was anyone captured?” I ask.

  “No.” Ferrant pauses, and his pause speaks a thousand words.

  “Where are our parents?” I glance down at Vian. His face is white. The door opens again and the guard returns. He’s holding his hands out in front of him and resting on his palms is my father’s crown. My legs go weak and I lean against the table.

  “Rayner is the only one who returned. They let him go so he could return the crowns to us, but he’s wounded. It is a declaration of war. Your parents are dead.” The words fall from Ferrant’s mouth in a monotone, expressionless way. The emotion hits me when I hear Vian scream. He’s in tears, inconsolable as members of the court rush to his side. I want to help him, but I seem to be frozen. I am stone, and my eyes are locked evermore on my father’s crown.

  Six

  I’m unsure how much time passes after I’m escorted to a chair and gently made to sit; my legs had been shaking, my hands gripping the table to keep me from falling. But my eyes never leave the crown. The burning bushes seem to be glowing even brighter tonight. Next to the gold crown, my mother’s crown, white gold and sprinkled with diamonds. Her crown always makes me think of the ice that forms on the lake, shiny and smooth with the glittering, freshly fallen snow. Only now, in the dancing firelight, it resembles ice that’s beginning to melt.

  Ice. The thought chills me, and my memory flashes in a strange way. I remember feeling cold against my face, then something warm covering my head. The memory is fuzzy at best; I must have been drunk when it happened. Whatever is trying to surface, it fades away just as quickly as it came.

  Voices have been talking all around me for some time, but I haven’t heard any of them. As my thoughts begin to blur, the voices become louder. Vian is crying next to me; I realize he’s holding my arm and squeezing it much too tightly. I move it just enough so he’ll loosen his grip, but not let go; the feeling returns to my arm with prickling pain. Around me, my father’s court officials are in a heated discussion. I’m not sure why my mind has brought me back to reality until I realize they’re talking about me.

  “We would have to do it now! We leave ourselves vulnerable if we don’t!”

  “But is she ready? We need a regent to take her place!”

  “And appear weak when we’re already under attack? That won’t do!”

  “It must be the princess and it must be now!”

  I’m instantly alarmed.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. My sudden addition to the conversation quiets the room quickly. Ferrant takes a deep breath.

  “We must crown you tonight.”

  “What?” I feel like someone has punched me in the stomach. Since I’m already feeling woozy, this almost pushes me over the edge. My cheeks heat up where the color had drained from my face. “No! What do you mean? Why would I be crowned?”

  “We are almost certainly facing war. And from Windem, one of the strongest kingdoms! We cannot appear to be weak right now. We need a royal on our throne as fast as possible,” Ferrant explains. The other members of the court look apprehensive.

  “Then put Vian there!” I gesture to my brother. He’s still crying and he looks on the verge of collapse. I regret even suggesting it.

  “Vian is not next in line,” someone else points out.

  “Then I abdicate!” I cry in desperation.

  “If you do that, you may as well deliver us to Windem in a gold cup!” Ferrant’s voice is rising as well. But I shake my head.

  “I’m sure they’ve heard about me. Maybe putting me on the throne is exactly what they’re looking for! I step aside! That was the plan!”

  “What plan?” someone asks.

  “My plan to wait until Vian marries so I can step aside and give him the throne!” I explain. It still sounds like a good plan, but I can see it slipping from my grasp.

  “Vian is nowhere near ready to marry. And you could only do that with a unanimous vote from the court. You will be the new queen! And we must do it tonight!” Ferrant taps the table with his fist, but I pound it hard with mine.

  “You can’t put me on the throne!” I’m standing now, facing Ferrant.

  “The people of Newrock need a leader!”

  “The people of Newrock hate me!” I shout. By the looks on the faces of those in the room, I’m pretty sure they do, too. “They hate me! And I don’t need them! If you put me on the throne, they’re bound to overthrow me anyway! Put someone else there!”

  A calmness suddenly washes over Ferrant’s face. He takes a deep breath, but continues to stare me down. “If we show weakness now, we’ll be attacked for sure. They’ll come straight to the castle to bring down the rest of your family. Your parents are already dead. They will come for you and Vian next.” His words take me by surprise. I guess I haven’t thought this through. I’m stunned into silence, so he continues, “They may kill you right away. Or they may take you prisoner to use you as an example to others. They could torture you both for information on our kingdom. That is the future you promise Vian if you refuse the throne.”

  He hits a nerve. My eyes trail back to my brother, who has stopped crying to listen to our argument. His eyes widen with alarm and he looks at me for help. I feel short of breath.

  His sweet, brown eyes have looked at me like that before. I remember the first time. He had been playing with some other noble children during a feast at our castle. A little girl had wandered over to investigate his game. The spoiled, nasty girl had pulled Vi
an’s toy right from his little toddler’s grip. Instantly, his eyes became large pools of brown sadness, and they didn’t look for my parents. They looked straight to me and begged for help.

  Without hesitation I got his toy back, though I got three lashes across my hands for hitting that bratty tattletale little girl. But from that day, I vowed to watch over Vian and protect him. He’s my little brother, and I love him more than anyone.

  That vow now screams in my head. Those deeply saddened brown eyes make my heart break in two. My parents are gone. I am his sole protector now. And I can’t hand him over to be tortured or killed. My already weak legs tremble and the tremor makes its way through my body to my hands. I lean on the table for support, taking deep breaths in through my open mouth.

  “My lady…” someone asks hesitantly. I can only nod.

  “Then it’s settled. Start the ceremony!” Ferrant commands. The room bustles to life. I’m pulled into another room and stripped by the maids, who quickly dress me in fancier garb. Marguerite is there, holding Monroe and watching as my hair is pulled back and secured under my tiara. I feel like I’m being taken prisoner, and all I can do is plead silently with my eyes for her to help me. Once I’m presentable, I’m marched all the way up to the Reflection Room under heavy guard with Vian at my side. He’s dressed as well, tears still flowing from his eyes. The look on his face is all that keeps me walking.

  The Reflection Room has been lit with many oil lamps and I have to squint as I step into the glow. All of those who belong to the court are there, forming a wide circle around the room and facing the portrait of my parents. Where my face will soon be. I wonder again why the portrait has to be so large.

  Two members of the court hold out large pillows cradling my mother and father’s crowns. Ferrant stands between them. I approach slowly, unable to take my eyes off my father’s painted face. I wonder how he died. If it hurt. Would I die the same way if I refuse the crown and run?

  I stand in front of Ferrant. He slowly walks around me, and when he moves I find I’m staring at my reflection in a mirror. I watch as Ferrant gently removes my tiara, my white-gold headband peppered with tiny diamonds. My eyes follow it as it’s handed off to another court member, and my heart aches for it. It’s so simple and small.

  My father’s crown is lifted next and I watch as it is gently placed on my head. It’s too big for me, but for the sake of the ceremony, it will do. I balance it on my head and will myself to stop shaking while Ferrant recites a poem that has been read since the Knight of Newrock was crowned as king.

  “Given to the crown,

  In courage, strength, and might,

  Mere human made to reign,

  Heir of noble Knight,

  One to rule the people

  With justice at the core,

  Remembering the gift of life,

  From the Knight who came before,

  That one and all may give aid,

  To the helpless in his plight,

  Forgo those that divide us,

  Remember, Heir of Knight.”

  The poem ends, and it is done.

  “For this to be official, you will need to walk among the people. Tomorrow,” another court member says.

  “Tomorrow?” I whip my head around and knock the crown down over my ears. I straighten it so I can look him in the eye.

  “You have been crowned in front of the court, so you are now the queen. But we must prove it to the people, and for the sake of our enemies, we must do so quickly. Tomorrow you will walk through their midst and the high bishop will announce your royal title to the kingdom. Then your reign begins,” he explains. I swallow hard. I can’t imagine walking through that crowd. But the choice isn’t mine.

  “My reign,” I whisper, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror. “A hopeless reign.”

  Seven

  I can’t sleep after the crowning, but I doubt anyone is sleeping tonight. I try to stay with Vian, but his tears are relentless and I finally can’t stand it anymore. I leave him in the care of his servants and go back to the Reflection Room, throwing a nasty scowl to the guard assigned to follow me around so he’ll stay outside. The room is dark except for the intense moonlight coming through the doors when I open them. The night air is cool, but I barely notice; I’ve been shivering for hours from nerves anyway. Turning slowly, I start when I catch my reflection in the mirror.

  Not wanting to look at myself again, I shift the mirror. Then I sit beside it, my back against the wall, my legs tucked up against my body. For a moment I hope Ward or Marguerite will seek me out, but the hope quickly subsides; I need time alone. Not to think or reflect or worry. Just to let my mind go blank so for a few seconds, I can pretend I do not exist.

  I should have been in that carriage with my parents.

  The sun rises, bright yellow replacing the moon’s glow and stinging my eyes. There’s a lot of commotion around the castle; they’re setting up for the event. No doubt they’ve already sent messengers to neighboring towns and villages to get as many people here as possible. They’ll make sure that the other kingdoms hear about it, too, and those kingdoms will send spies to make sure the reports are true. If there are more attacks planned, I become the primary target.

  I’m doing this for Vian, I remind myself.

  The chatter and clatters outside the castle grow more numerous as the sun rises higher. I’m left alone for as long as possible, but finally a maid seeks me out to get me ready. I’m bathed three times to ensure my cleanliness. My hair is tied back tightly so it will be out of my face; my face is what the people need to see today. The dress they wrap me in is one that I know belonged to my mother, though I can’t recall when she wore it. It’s a deep purple, the color of royalty. Marguerite helps dress me, our eyes silently meeting several times. She looks sympathetic, but there’s nothing she can do to stop this. I’m sure she probably thinks I’m crazy for not wanting it.

  I’m brought to the entry hall under heavy guard and wait until it’s time to go. I can hear what sounds like a huge crowd and can’t resist taking a peek through the doors. Marguerite must see the panic on my face.

  “The crowd is large,” she agrees.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” I mumble, leaning on her for support.

  “You can and you will.” Ferrant appears. He’s dressed in full battle gear, complete with a cape. He looks as if he expects war to break out in the crowd, and I fear it might. His carefully manicured beard outlines his strong chin, following his jaw as he speaks. “Here’s how this will go: you will follow the path we laid out for you into the crowd and walk slowly through them. You will hold your head high and your back straight.” I try to follow his directions. “Good. Just like that. But you must get that look of terror out of your eyes. Look firm. You’re the queen—these people are below you.”

  His comment startles me. My father had always said the king and queen were no greater than their subjects. But I have no time to reflect. Vian has arrived, with an escort of worried-looking servants. He looks near collapse, but he comes out of duty and my heart aches for him.

  “The path will curve around and we will end on the steps of the castle again. There, you will be crowned. Tonight, we will feast in your honor.”

  For once, I am not in the mood for a party.

  A horn sounds to signal the crowd to quiet. “It’s time.”

  The doors swing open, and I am revealed to the waiting crowd. A long stretch of purple fabric has been laid out where I should walk, and I step onto it. Ferrant is beside me, only a fraction of a pace behind. The other guards are close behind us, everyone on edge in case of another attack. I straighten my posture and set my eyes on the crowd in front of me, determined to get this over with.

  Things go from bad to worse with each step. I can see the looks of anger and unhappiness on the faces of the people. They are murmuring to each other, shaking their heads in disgust. Beads of sweat form on my forehead even though the weather is pleasant. Someone lost in the c
rowd jeers and many others follow suit.

  “Keep your head up,” Ferrant hisses at me and I do. I eye the crowd, attempting to display an aura of superiority, but I have a feeling it just mirrors the looks of intense dislike they’re throwing at me.

  I’m grateful when we reach the turn, but then my eyes settle on someone in the crowd and I stiffen. Hassal and his gang are there, snickering to each other as they watch me walk towards them. We’re just approaching them when I realize he’s holding something. His arm arcs and a tomato bounces off the skirt of my dress and hits the ground. Before the others can start throwing things at me, I snatch it up and hurl it back.

  Only Hassal ducks and I hit the woman behind him in the face.

  I’m just as stunned as she is, but I don’t get to apologize. Enraged, Ferrant motions to the guards behind us to take charge. Hassal and his friends disappear quickly. Ferrant grabs my upper arms and rushes me back to the castle amid even more jeers from the crowd.

  We climb the stairs and stop by the high bishop, who has gathered with the other castle officials. He gives me a look mixed with anger and disappointment as he tells me to face the crowd and get down on my knees. My resolve is quickly dissolving, but I manage to stare at some distant clouds and try to pretend I’m one of them while I wait for him to speak.

  He recites the poem that Ferrant spoke last night while sprinkling a heavily perfumed oil on my hair. I resist the urge to cough as the flowery scent fills my lungs. Next, he holds a crown out in front of him, and I raise my palms to gently cradle it. With his hands and mine against the cool metal, he says, “Will you, Princess Virginia of Newrock, accept the role of queen and leader of this kingdom?”

  “Yes.” My voice is barely audible. A grunt from Ferrant pushes me. I speak louder, my voice echoing through the intense quiet that has fallen over us all. “Yes!”

  “Will you remain loyal to the crown that the Knight of Newrock gave his life defending?”