by L Ward
The Celestial King.
L. Ward
To Brandon, for encouraging me to follow my dreams when nobody else would.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Copyright
Chapter 1
Evan was beginning to think he’d made a terrible mistake.
This was too much work for one person, a handful of maids and Will. From the moment the coronation was announced he’d submerged himself in his new duties, and with what little manpower he could find, assembled a coronation army. Finding loyal workers wasn’t easy; disloyal and frightened courtiers deserted them in an earthquake of footsteps that rocked the palace’s enchanted walls the moment the news of a werewolf sovereign broke. A handful of teachers, servants, students and a couple members of the Privy Council were all that remained.
“Your Highness, we can finish up now,” Isabelle said, bobbing a curtsey.
Evan snapped out of his stupor. He hadn’t realised how late it was. “There’s only a few details left. Have we had any last minute RSVPs?”
She shook her head.
“Actually, I’ve had word from the Dowager Queen that she’s well enough to attend,” said Will. Despite being forced to spend a lot more time together over the past three weeks, Will wasn’t a bad worker and never gave up trying to piece together the shards of an infamous-before-it-happens coronation.
“That’s champion,” said Evan. A small weight had been lifted. When the Dowager Queen and Briggard Rakes were transported back, risking their lives once again to do so, Evan had assisted with their healing, but some wounds were harder to heal. Poor Miriam. She’d been severely burned in the attack and her grief for Elijah was unmistakable. She’d retired into seclusion and wore traditional robes of mourning at all times, emerging only recently to attend the remains of the court.
Briggard, on the other hand, wasn’t the same man any more. He muttered constantly to things that weren’t there and couldn’t stop jerking his arms. Evan had tried but he couldn’t see his powers stretching to disturbances of mind.
“Everything is in place, Your Highness,” said Rina, scurrying back into the room. “The clean-up crew are doing the finishing touches; the day will go ahead as planned.”
A wave of relief lapped Evan’s toes. Tomorrow was Nath’s coronation; it would be portal-viewed all over the world despite the clear public outrage that a werewolf would be crowned. The headlines bombarded the public with speculation and propaganda. When they'd broken, Nath sat in silence staring out of the window, eyes haunted. They blamed him for the attacks: why can’t he control his own kind? And Petition to Prevent Werewolf King Reaches One Hundred Thousand Signatures!
“All of the journalists have been properly vetted and the mix is diverse, no sleazy tabloids,” said Will.
“Good. Now get some rest, everyone, we all have a duty to make sure Nath is crowned as smoothly as possible,” said Evan.
The room filtered out, the fireplace simmered low and violent snowstorms battered the palace, the wind wailing like a banshee through the forest. The February winter might be one of the few things preventing a full-scale invasion right now, but Evan didn’t want to think about that.
“How’s Nath?”
He jumped not realising anyone was still there. “He’s coping. If you’re here to take the piss or gloat can you please leave?” He balled his fists.
Will glared.
“Hate me all you like, I can’t stand you either, but don’t you fucking dare ruin this for Nath,” said Evan, fists shaking. He’d had enough of him breathing down his neck during meetings and being tense and prickly at every opportunity. Hostile and stressful he may be, but Evan was surprised by his loyalty. In his eyes it didn’t make up for the past, but with the stress of Nath’s ascension he was oddly grateful that Will had put in so much effort.
“I despise you. You’re the lowest piece of garbage Nath could have chosen to marry and I know that as much as you hate to admit it, you need me. Both of ya do, especially now when half the country has abandoned him. They’re laughing at all of us, especially you. No wonder Elijah let him marry a commoner, nobody else would have him, they said, and—”
“SHUT UP!”
Will fell silent.
The tension required an axe to cut, tasting thickly of resentment and crackling with magic. It was approaching midnight and Evan was exhausted: mentally, emotionally, physically, and he was desperate to see Nath.
Elijah’s funeral was two weeks past; Evan’s heart had gone haywire watching the gilded coffin arrive at the church as monks, nuns, nobles and the nation sent prayers to the gods for the late king. People had shown up, not for Nath, but for Elijah and the tragedy of his beloved reign cut short.
Nath was amazing, he’d held it together until the end beneath the frightened glances and tear-stained cheeks, his face a perfect mask of regality as he gave his speech in honour of his father. The moment Elijah was to be moved to the Tombs of Eternal Rest, Nath went to pieces and threw himself at the coffin, sobbing his heart out in front of the guests and the portals where the entire nation watched. Royal protocol had been shattered that day and it was a rare occasion nobody gave a hoot; in those minutes of hysterical crying he wasn’t King Nathaniel I, he was a grieving son. Many of the media outlets had been sorry for him painting him as a terrified teenage boy, others attacked his emotional outburst and said it’s exactly what the warlocks want: a weak king. But the worst Evan had seen claimed Nathaniel cried from happiness that his godly father had been destroyed and now the reign of monsters could begin.
“I’m going to bed,” said Evan. He left Will alone in the parlour staring at the fireplace.
The halls were deserted. Such drastic change in a matter of moments. Without the constant boisterousness of Court the palace was oddly silent. Nath’s guards, however, were unchanging and smiled on approach. He stepped through the doors and the welcoming smell of home enveloped him in the warmest of hugs.
“I was beginning to think you were going to pull an all-nighter,” said Nath, curled up in front of the indigo fire.
Evan found himself smiling. “Am I the only one who’s been working tonight?” he nodded to the book laying open in Nath’s lap.
He laughed, spritely and beautiful. “Yes, I thought I might resign myself to a life of leisure and let my husband do all the work.”
Evan washed up and joined him on the sofa. “I guess you can’t sleep.”
“It’s always when you need something the most that it feels far beyond reach,” said Nath, leaning into his chest and p
icking at his shirt buttons.
“I can knock you out if you like,” said Evan.
Nath shot him a surprised smirk.
“With my magic,” he added, full of laughter.
“Perhaps later,” Nath smiled. “First, tell me about your day.”
“I’ve done my best with my lack of experience and manpower. I hate to say it, but the only person with an idea in that room is Will, and I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him,” said Evan, twirling a lock of moonlight around his finger; basking in the smell of sandalwood.
“As well you shouldn’t,” said Nath. “Look,” he sat up, “half the nation want me off the throne, no amount of flowers or performers will overshadow, well, me. I’m the elephant in the room; the thing that goes bump in the night.”
Evan swallowed. “They’ve not given you a chance! When they see how good a king you are, they’ll—”
“Still hate me and continue to ask why Dad didn’t drown me when he had the chance,” he said with such steadiness it scared him. The media had been ruthless; the servants offered to burn the papers and shred the magazines but Nath insisted on seeing them. He needed to know how his country felt and what was happening given the warlocks had slaughtered half of the London council and had overtaken other organisations. “These damn storms! I can’t send our troops in this. It would be a suicide mission.”
“At least they’re protecting the palace. The nation is at a standstill, Nath, nobody can move,” said Evan. “Once tomorrow is over you can relax a bit and stop working morning to night every day. You are enough, Nath.”
“At the moment it feels like you’re the only one to who believes in me,” he said.
“There’s more people with faith in you than you realise,” said Evan.
∞∞∞
They stepped out of the glass doors to full fanfare. An enormous gazebo had been erected stretching from the east wing to the opalescent entrance gates, heated and glittering with magic; shielding them from the pummeling snow. The air was fresh with wintertime. Nath stood beside him donning full regal attire of purple and white and over his shirt and trousers he wore brilliant purple dragonhide armour and a white fur cloak. He was striking in the snow glow, resembling magic drifting on the breeze.
It felt like Christmas.
It felt like a tragedy.
But it most of all, it felt like a new dawn.
Fireworks erupted before Evan’s eyes; it took a second to realise they were dozens of camera flashes firing from every angle.
“Your Majesty!”
“Your Highness!”
Nath clasped his hand and they walked to the gates accompanied by a train of servants, Beverley and a few nobles from various faraway estates: Edward Legion of Derbyshire, Jemelle Betty of Exeter and Arthur Winshot of South Devon. Few enough names for Evan to keep track of easily. It was amazing how quickly you got to know people when surrounded by them every day.
The flanking guards smiled pleasantly at the cameras.
The carriage ride was somber and frosty; smelled of bitterness and pine. Memories of Elijah’s funeral surfaced and Evan squeezed Nath’s hand tighter.
The church emerged through the trees, a stark tangerine contrast with the white world around it. The doors were open and warmth spilled from inside melting the icicles clinging to their frame. It was keeping the weather at bay… barely.
“All set?” Gerard appeared outside dripping in gold, his hair a slick of ebony.
“There’s nothing really to prepare for, hardly anyone is attending,” said Nath, stepping from the carriage and extending a hand to Evan.
Thank the celestial phenomena for gazebos.
“It’ll be portal-viewed across the world,” said Evan, anxiety brewing a tempest in his belly.
Nath nodded; he was pale. The full moon was days away and people were watching for the slightest sign of something amiss. They were ravenous to see the King, as much a monster as the creatures he swore to destroy. Evan had been healing him, relieving what symptoms he could, but Nath wasn't willing to disguise his appearance.
Carriages pulled up around them and the small procession of loyal servants and nobles from the palace headed inside, glancing curiously at Nath.
Evan wished his family could be here, but travel was impossible right now and even spellograms were taking longer to get through.
“I remember your dad’s coronation, you and Will weren’t even two,” said Gerard.
Nath stiffened but a smile graced his lips. “I bet neither of you imagined my coronation would be like this.”
Gerard’s laugh surprised them all. “I don’t think anyone could have foreseen it, but I know Elijah died fighting his cause and trying to make things right again. He’s watching you today and I know he’s very proud of you, Nathaniel.”
“Everything’s ready, Your Majesty,” said Will. He was draped thickly in deep purple fur and looking surprisingly cheerful.
Nath nodded. “Once I’m crowned, I become the ultimate piece on the board,” he said firmly, and strode gallantly to the doors. Evan took his rightful place beside him, accepting the proffered arm while others took up position behind them.
The fanfare declared and the church came alive with beautiful music, the sort that could charm an angel. They stepped into the light and were greeted by dozens of faces struck with bemusement. Nathaniel stepped forward, dimpled, gorgeous and looking regal as a god. Everyone rose with respect, jaws dropping in awe.
Evan’s heart soared. The rush was incredible; they progressed to the duo of glittering thrones waiting for them, the same thrones which on their wedding day held Elijah and Miriam. He scanned the guests all the way to the dais. She was perched at the very front dressed in full regal attire, a new dress of purple gems, puffing a deep violet haze and twinkling beneath the sunlight. What remained of her charred hair was bound beneath a veiled hat; a pair of bright red lips popped from beneath the white lace. She was smiling.
Nath paused on his way to bow low and kiss her hand. She reached out and blessed him, then Evan in turn.
“Change has come at a terrifying moment. Be an opportunist and seize it. You’re the ember that will start the inferno, Nathaniel. You and Evan have the strength to do this,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I love you. Now, take your crown.”
All eyes were upon them as they approached the thrones. Evan’s belly churned with anxiety’s kraken threatening to send his meager breakfast out to sea. The music died the moment they sat; Nath let go of his hand and the vicar stepped forward.
“A moment of silence, if you please, for it is time to pay witness to the crowning of King Nathaniel I, who on this day marks the dawn of a new reign. It has been many, many years since a lunarmancer ascended to sovereignty and I call upon the gods Solaris and Lunara to make their presence known on this glorious day to offer His Majesty their blessings as he claims his god-given throne,” his voice rose with every word. He reached for the sky with frail fingers and the room fell silent. Without warning, they were plunged into total darkness.
Evan was reminded of the Mass right before he’d fainted. It seemed so simple back then. A gasp was snatched from his throat when sunlight drenched Nath in buttery rays of gold; moments later it gave way to dense moonbeams that danced from every surface of the room. Nath absorbed the energy, his body jerked and the universe exploded from within the church in a kaleidoscope of colour and space. Planets rose on an ebony horizon, orbited by metallic moons, some skirted with gaseous rings. Stars dominated the space and their light was blinding. An extremely emasculating yelp escaped Evan as a comet shot over their heads rumbling the atmosphere and blasting them with crippling heat. They were floating in deep space but still breathing.
As with all beautiful things, it didn’t last, and the galaxy filtered away; Nath was panting; clutching the arms of his throne with ghostly knuckles.
“What a magnificent blessing!” cried the vicar.
The church erupted with applause,
the audience slightly stunned by the display.
Over the sea of faces Evan spotted dozens of nobles, soldiers, guards and even servants having returned to see. They shouldn’t be here, it was breaking protocol to allow commoners access, but Nath was adamant anyone from the palace displaying true loyalty be allowed entrance.
“Now the pledges of the nobility and servicemen,” said the vicar.
Much to Evan’s surprise, guests rose and knelt before the Nathaniel. Wonderful, loyal soldiers in full uniform, emblazoned with a purple-and-white rising phoenix, formed a line kneeling before him and swearing their allegiance. His heart rose and he almost choked on his pride. These were their people, returned to serve and risking life and limb for Nath.
Nath’s eyes were twinkling and he was trying to suppress a smile, but still he remained perfectly regal.
Gerard marched forward in all of his haughty gracefulness and knelt before the him. “I swear my allegiance to His Majesty King Nathaniel I and will do all by my honour to guard and offer him my servitude as Chairman of the Privy Council. If I should commit any act of treason may you strike off my head,” he said and rose beneath Nathaniel’s steady gaze.
Evan swallowed. It was almost time; his heart was beating a tattoo. He felt the signal portal’s deep vibrations and knew the world’s eyes were upon them. His palms were soaked with sweat; no matter how many times he gave interviews or confronted a room of people, he still couldn’t shake the nerves.
Will sank to his knees before the dais. “I pledge my allegiance to His Majesty King Nathaniel I, and on my honour, offer my loyal servitude; if I should commit an act of treason may you strike off my head,” he said slowly, glancing at Nath. The immense weight those words carried would have crippled another man. To the guests and the nation it was a traditional, respectful pledge, but as Will rose he met Nath’s eye and something close to pleading darted behind his cured gaze. Will had already committed multiple acts of treason and now Nath was king he could lawfully execute him after that pledge, but Will rose uncontested and the vicar stepped forward again.
