Chapter Thirty #2
When she glanced at Magnus, he smiled proudly before helping her stand.
He moved behind her as she faced the crowd.
A dignitary was given the honour of handing him the princess’s robe, and she was pleased to see it wasn’t the Duke of Solberg—who was sat in the row behind Aunt Mary and had to keep shifting his head to see past her feathers.
The soft feathery touch of fur and velvet brushed against her neck and was quickly followed by the incredible weight of the elaborate robe over her shoulders. It reminded her of her responsibility and Magnus’s. She was glad she could help him carry the burden of it now.
The archbishop walked around the royal couple singing blessings, then stood behind her as he placed the smaller version of the spiked silver crown upon her head.
The choir began to sing, filling the cathedral with heavenly music, and after the dignitary had ensured her robe was securely fastened, she took Magnus’s offered hand, and they walked slowly to the stone thrones.
Matching velvet cushions awaited them, embroidered with their full titles and names in silver thread. She lifted the back of the robe subtly as she sat down, being sure not to ruin the fall of the fabric, and breathed a sigh of relief when she took her seat without incident.
Magnus still held her hand, their elbows resting on the rough stone of their thrones. These were carved with knotwork and ancient runes but otherwise bare compared to the pageantry of the rest of the chamber.
He gave her hand a light squeeze as the song reached a crescendo. The final notes reverberated through her body as if she were a tuning fork. She peeked at Magnus from the corner of her eye, half-afraid the crown might topple if she made any sudden movements.
Magnus was staring back at her, and he looked…proud.
Tears filled her eyes, and she had to blink them away rapidly.
Magnus began his speech in Norwegian, and Selina allowed her mind to wander. Letting the words wash through her, as she tried her best to calm her growing nerves as the time of her own speech quickly approached.
However, to her surprise Magnus suddenly paused and turned his head towards her.
‘I will speak these next words in English so that my bride and her family will know my heart. Princess Selina first captured my attention when I saw her drop a cup of punch. I was too blinded by arrogance to realise the significance at the time. I thought her foolish and clumsy, the last conceivable choice for the princess of Thrudheim.’ Selina stiffened glancing at her father whose face had reddened with anger, although whether directed at her or Magnus, she couldn’t be sure.
The grip on her hand tightened.
‘But I was wrong. I underestimated her, and I warn Thrudheim and its people from doing the same. Selina Mortimer is a wise, kind, and beautiful woman. Each day her sharp mind and energetic spirit inspires me to be a better ruler, husband, and man. She reminds me that the rest of the world has also underestimated Thrudheim. They have thought us incapable of ruling independently. I am confident that, with Princess Selina by my side, Thrudheim will enter a new silver age of prosperity. She will bring love and kindness to my rule. She will ease our burdens and bring joy to all of our lives. I know this because I have loved her from the first moment I saw her and will continue to do so until the end of my days.’
Selina stared in shock at her husband’s confession and was even more startled when he leaned across and kissed her mouth gently. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘Now…make them love you too.’
Selina couldn’t speak for a moment after that devastating declaration. ‘I love you too,’ she whispered and then leaned across to press a harder kiss to his lips, gasping when her crown almost fell off. Thankfully Magnus caught it and with a chuckle repositioned it on her head.
She turned to the expectant crowd and swallowed.
Half of the front rows had probably placed bets she would do something so foolish as to lose the crown immediately.
This was confirmed by the sneering expression on Lady Nora’s face.
But Selina rallied her courage and even smiled when she noticed Margarite in the wooden balcony above.
She took a deep breath and began her speech.
‘I am honoured to be the princess consort of Thrudheim.’ A wave of shocked gasps swept from the front rows right up to the balconies.
Not because of what she’d said, but because of how she’d said it—in a perfectly accented Thrudheim dialect.
She didn’t even have the speech written out to pretend she was reading it.
Margarite had insisted the parchment would only spoil the effect of her speech: ‘You speak our language so perfectly after being here only a month. You have nothing to prove to any of them!’ Now Margarite gave her a delighted wave from the balcony.
Until this moment, Selina hadn’t believed her. But now she did trust not only in her ability but in herself.
Magnus chuckled beside her, squeezing her hand with encouragement. She supposed she had just proven him right. People shouldn’t underestimate her.
There was no point trying to prove herself to the people who wished only to see her fall, but she would open her heart to anyone who wished her well. Beaming warmly at the crowd, she looked past Lady Nora’s and the Duke of Solberg’s scowling faces to the people that truly mattered, her people.
She raised her voice, projecting it down the aisle and allowing it to fill the room as she’d practised with Magnus.
‘I am not a strong reader or writer. I learn by ear and action. I have walked the cliffs and forests, paid my respects to the burial mounds of your kings and queens. I have seen the mines and the beautiful crafts made from them with incredible skill and imagination. His Serene Highness Prince Magnus has read to me about the history of Thrudheim. I learned of the first king and how he commissioned these thrones for his beloved wife, Queen Frigg. I know of Queen Skadi defeating the Danish king in the whirlpools of your harbour. I heard how his men turned against him when they saw her sail into battle—the rightful ruler of the silver isle, unafraid to defend her home. We know these stories because of the Thrudheim sagas, passed down through the generations, from parent to child. Sometimes they are embellished and changed. But they are not dead words. They live and breathe within us. As I will live and breathe for you, Thrudheim, because I fell in love with not only a prince, but a country. Love live Prince Magnus, and long live Thrudheim!’
The answering cheer was deafening. Her father, Aunt Mary and Mrs Pearce hugged each other as the roar of approval filled the cathedral, joy overflowing from their smiles. They’d not understood a word, but they knew from the crowd’s reaction that Selina had done an outstanding job with her speech.
The servants and ordinary people gathered in the balconies, as well as those outside the cathedral, began to chant her name.
Magnus lifted her hand. ‘Long live Princess Selina!’
Selina glowed with happiness. Proud of herself, her husband, and her country.