37. Reyla
37
REYLA
E risandra swept the door open and strode out into the hall, where her entourage waited. She stormed through them, and they parted like they dragged a blade through a strip of fabric before the material resealed behind her. They flowed down the hall and around the corner.
A few of her guards hefted her throne and stomped from my suite with it.
“My queen?” Moira asked, her hands twitching at her sides, her gaze focused on the men carrying the throne. “Can I do anything for you?”
“I need time with High Lady Weldsbane,” Lord Briscalar called out, striding around the throne-carriers and over to stand beside me. “If you have time, my lady? This won’t take long.” At my nod, he gestured for me to go ahead of him into the sitting area. “We have many details yet to smooth out to ensure your coronation, the dinner, and the masked ball aren’t a complete disaster.”
“The queen mother was just here. She didn’t seem eager to offer her assistance.” And frankly, if this was how she’d behave, I’d rather not spend even one more moment in her company. I still couldn’t process all she’d said—and hadn’t said.
“Yes, well . . .” He coughed. “I’m sure you and I can handle the arrangements.”
We could.
“Ladies,” I said. “Please go to the kitchen and bring back a tray with tea, cups for the lord and I, plus a few sweet items to go with it.”
“A delightful idea, my lady,” Lord Briscalar said as he urged me over to the table where I took my meals. He nodded to Moira. “Don’t dawdle. Hurry now. And make sure they include two pots of tea,” he called out as she scurried for the door with Calista behind her.
“I thought I’d take our fine fellow out for a walk in the gardens again,” Faelith said, lifting the leash.
She and Surren exchanged subtle smiles. Was there something going on between them?
“That sounds fun.” I tried not to laugh as Farris played catch, darting around the sitting area and even leaping over a sofa to avoid her. She finally pinned him against my thigh where I sat at the table.
With a huff, she blew hair off her pink face and secured his collar. “Aren’t you a lively one?” Grinning with triumph, she led him from the room, him trotting behind her with a nyxin grin on his face and his tail swishing through the air .
Surren eased out into the hall to stand with the others. Once the door had closed, the lord turned to me. He snapped his fingers and a book and a quill pen appeared on the table. “The queen mother asked me to keep her informed of our progress.”
“Whose final decisions will be taken, hers or mine?”
He coughed. “Yours, my lady. Always yours.”
I was grateful for his loyalty to me.
He flicked the pen with the tip of his finger. “Take notes.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “You want me to take notes?” Though I wouldn’t mind keeping a book and pen like that around for the next time Ember’s Shadow decided to let me read it. That would be easier than memorizing whatever it chose to share.
“Oh, no, my lady,” he said gravely. “Watch.”
The notebook snapped open to a clean page, and the pen lifted, poising itself above it, waiting.
“Coronation,” he said gravely, and the pen wrote the word at the top. His smile took me in. “A wonderful spell, don’t you think?”
“Quite handy. Teach me.”
“Oh . . .” His head tilted. “Aren’t you taking magical lessons with Lord Lorant?”
“Sometimes, but I can’t imagine him being eager to spend time on a simple spell like this.”
“I assure you.” He stiffened in the chair. “This is not a simple spell.”
I winced out a smile. “Try to teach me. Please?”
“Alright.” He shared how he crafted it, and to my surprise, when I tried, it worked. A journal like his appeared on my lap along with a pen. I’d write a few things down once he’d left.
“Tell the pen to write,” he said. “And it will do so.”
I frowned at the pen. “Take notes, would you?”
“As with any queenly request, you tell it, you don’t ask.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being polite to a pen,” I said.
His eyebrows lifted.
But the pen sprang up, the journal opened, and it appeared poised to write on the smooth, clean surface.
“Objects appreciate it when you ask kindly,” I said with a grin.
“Perhaps they do.” With a soft smile, Lord Briscalar shook his head. “We need to discuss your dresses for the events.” His face sobered. “Everyone, and I mean everyone, within the court is speculating about what colors you’ll wear, the styles of the garments, and what jewels might accompany the stunning creations.”
“About that.”
He leaned toward me. “Yes?”
“I don’t have any idea what I should wear, and I don’t know where to get even a simple gown, let alone one stunning enough to impress and set a new trend in fashion.”
He patted my arm. “That’s why you have me, my lady. I’m fully aware of all the latest fashions, and I’ll do all I can to help you shine like the jewel you truly are.”
“Thank you.”
His face pinkened. “First, the gown you’ll wear for your coronation and dinner.” He folded his hands neatly on his lap while the pen scratched across the journal page. “Everyone will expect you to wear the colors of Evergorne: striking red with a few silver accents. It's what all the queens have worn in the past. But I believe you should make a more memorable statement by dressing in silver with only a hint of red adornment instead.”
His proposal surprised me. Silver felt more sophisticated, however. Maybe this would be the perfect way to introduce me to all of Evergorne. “I like that. It’s bold.”
He dipped his head forward. “If I wasn’t bold, I would not be in this current position.”
“I’m grateful that you are.” I tried to imagine the smooth fabric of my gown cascading down my body like liquid silver.
“As for the style,” he said. “I’m envisioning a delightfully fitted bodice and a full skirt that doesn’t restrict movement yet clings enough to give you a statuesque feel. You’ll look majestic.” His enthusiasm caught me and swept me along with him. “This gown will tell the world who you truly are.”
I laid my hand on his arm, squeezing. “Thank you for putting so much thought into this.”
He tugged on his tunic and wiggled his spine, preening. “It's my duty, my lady, and one I do proudly.”
“You could've suggested I wear red like everyone else. I like that you're thinking beyond the usual, that you've got suggestions that'll not only give me the boost of confidence I'll need, but truly make me shine.”
He patted my hand resting on his. “During the dinner, you'll take your place beside the king.”
“What if I spill food on the front of my pretty silver gown?” The thought of soup splattering down the bodice made me grimace. Maybe I should wear black .
“Don’t spill,” he said, his tone both teasing and serious at the same time. “The queen mother and the other high ladies will definitely notice if a queen does something like that.”
“They’ll be equally eager to point it out if I do.”
“Sadly, yes.”
Someone knocked, and Surren opened the door. Moira and Calista entered, ushering in a floating double layer tray laden with a covered platter and two teapots. Pretty, matching cups, and plates took up the lower level.
“My queen,” Moira said, using her magic to make a table appear on the floor beside us. She lowered the tray onto the smooth wooden surface.
“Would you like me to pour?” Calista asked.
“We can handle this.” Lord Briscalar gave her a polite nod.
“Thank you, both.” I lifted a smile, and they left the room.
Lord Briscalar laid a pretty plate and cup in front of me, and, at my nod, poured tea. He swept off the silver dome covering the platter and gestured to the array of pastries, serving me the one I selected. We sipped our tea for a moment and ate before tackling the rest of the items on his agenda.
“What can I expect with the coronation?” I asked.
“You'll be the last to enter the throne room, and you'll be accompanied by your ladies. You'll sedately walk down the aisle and stop at the end. An escort, the highest lord in Evergorne, will then walk with you to where King Merrick will be waiting on his throne.”
The image made my heart race. This was it. Once I wore the crown, I’d belong to this court. Merrick and I were married, but it didn't quite feel real. I slept in my own bed alone while he slumbered down the hall. Maybe that would be the night to join him in his bedroom. My skin tingled at the thought. “What happens next?”
“The king will stand and announce that he accepts you as his queen. The room will erupt with bows, cheers, and excitement. This moment will be steeped in magic and tradition. The highest elder will place the crown on your head herself.”
My breath caught. “Magic? What kind of magic?”
“Sparkles. The room is enchanted for such an occasion. When the crown is placed upon your head, the air will shimmer with light, a tribute from the realm to its new queen. It’s quite a sight to behold, and I'm pleased to say this will be the second queen coronation I'll witness.”
“Erisandra's was the first.”
He nodded, his cheery mood dimming.
“She had some interesting, though cryptic things to say when she visited earlier.”
His head tilted. “Like what?”
“First, that she doesn’t like me, but I don’t care about that.”
He brushed off the comment with a flick of his hand, agreeing while leaning forward, waiting to hear more.
“That she was a willing bride—”
“They all are.”
Interesting. “You mean every single Evergorne bride has been willing?”
“The men of this family may have found it a challenge to rule at times, but none have found the need to force a woman to marry them. ”
That was good. “She said King Theon’s advisor talked her into the marriage. I believe she . . .”
“Rumors such as that have circulated through the court from the moment she stepped inside the castle.”
“Were they lovers?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Just a suspicion. She implied she’s still queen here because her family will inherit if there’s no true heir to the throne.”
“Which will only happen if King Merrick dies without an heir, something we both agree must not happen.”
Did Lord Briscalar know I slept in my own bed?
“She . . .” I had to tell someone. “She implied King Theon might not be Merrick’s father.”
“Merrick is the very image of his King Theon. Yes, there are rumors that she and . . . How shall I say this?” He leaned close and his voice lowered, though we remained alone. “That she and the high advisor may have . . .” He pinched his eyes closed, opening them again and leaning back in his chair. “King Theon’s advisor was an honorable man. The queen mother . . . ”
“Lacks honor?”
“I would never say something like that.”
But I bet he’d think it.
Lord Briscalar’s mouth twisted with distaste. “What else did she say?”
“That’s about it.”
“I suggest you dismiss her from your mind. She’s jealous, but she’ll soon find her place within this court.”
I was beginning to doubt that.
He tapped his journal. “We still have much to discuss. ”
I nibbled on another pastry, mostly paying attention to what he was saying but also analyzing every word she’d said. I didn’t come to any conclusions, however.
“Back to your coronation,” he said. “After everyone swears fealty—”
I placed the rest of my pastry on the plate. “What does that entail?”
“Lots of groveling.” His laugh rang out. “Bowing. As much as they should grovel, they won't. They'll bow to you and swear to defend you and the court with their lives, but watch them all.”
“For an attack?” Maybe I should bring my sword to the coronation.
“Never in front of everyone. If nothing else, we fae handle these matters in a more delicate manner.”
Yes, like with poison.
“After that, the king will escort you to dinner,” he said.
We discussed the food that would be served, and I approved all his suggestions.
“Seated beside the king, you will be the most stunning jewel in the court. King Merrick won't be able to take his eyes off you.” He ate the last of his pastry, washing the bite down with tea, before pouring us both more at my nod. “Then you'll change again, into a gown for the ball.”
“Design and color suggestions?”
His eyes gleamed with excitement. “For the ball, I suggest a deep green gown shot through with gold. It will complement your striking hair beautifully, and it holds significance within our court. ”
Merrick's eye color and only now did I realize, Lore's as well, though his were a darker green.
“Are Lore and Merrick related?” I asked.
“An odd question. I believe they are, though it’s never been confirmed.”
Was that why his mother seemed so angry with Merrick’s father? Had he . . . Evergorne gleamed on the surface, but many secrets churned below the shiny facade. “Are they half-brothers?”
I was beginning to suspect she’d slept with the king’s advisor. What if the king was with someone else?
“Wherever did you get an idea like that?”
“Just speculation.”
“Don’t start new rumors.”
“Never me.” Especially about my husband.
Merrick and Lore did look vaguely alike, though Lore was sharper while Merrick . . . I couldn't say he was softer, not when he had a chiseled jawline, broad, muscular shoulders, and a body I was beginning to believe I'd die if I didn't explore. They were different enough, but that was common in families.
“Do I need to wear a mask to the ball?” I asked.
“Yes, my lady. All attendees will wear them to celebrate the occasion, including the king.” His eyes glinted with mischief as he leaned closer. “May I reveal a secret?”
“Please do.”
“The king’s mask will remain a mystery until the event begins, but the design of his mask will reflect the Evergorne symbol.”
“What does that look like? ”
He crafted an image with magic in the air between us.
I'd seen it before.
Two silver ravens facing each other—part of Merrick’s family crest. But that wasn’t the only place where I’d seen wings like this.
They’d been etched into the cover of the book I’d stolen from the library, the one I couldn't open.