Chapter Forty-Nine #2
At the back, gossiping wildly are Octavia, Mama Adama, and Seth.
Mama Adama has taken a strong and completely irrational liking to my brother since she joined us in the capital for Larus’s funeral, but given his experience at sea, I don’t think he’s in danger of taking her up on her offer to join her fleet.
At my request, a seat has been left empty for Larus and all of those who aren’t with us.
I smile as I think of what he’d say about all of this, how he’d tease me for being the subject of yet another of Ronan’s speeches, but also how he’d tell me how proud he was.
Ronan wipes a tear from my cheek, understanding without question.
I look up at Kira and Bitey flying overhead as the three of us—Ronan, Claudia, and myself—step to the front, joining the waiting priestess of Vayla, her white robes a mirror of my own, and the priest of Vahlo, his robes matching Ronan’s black.
Coronations typically take place in the Temple of Vayla, but this isn’t an ordinary coronation. Not just because it’s Ronan’s second one, but also because of how he intends to crown me.
An orchestra of Selaran and Orsan musicians plays a triumphant fanfare.
“Welcome Selarans, friends, and honored guests, to the coronation of the God-King and God-Queen of Selara!” Ronan’s amplified voice is met by murmurs and gasps in the crowd.
Selara has had many God-Queens, but it has never had two rulers share the title at once.
Usually, the ruler names their consort, and that person is given the title of King or Queen.
But Ronan would not hear of me being treated as anything other than his equal. “Should anything happen to me, I want you to rule in my stead,” he’d told me on one of our first nights back in his palace chambers.
“Don’t talk like that. I don’t want to think of being without you,” I’d replied. I’d come too close to losing him to even consider it.
“I’m serious, Sylvie. I don’t want you to be a dowager when I’m gone.
I want you to be a ruling queen, my equal in every way.
You’re as entitled to the title of God-Queen as I am God-King.
It was there in the prophecy. If I’m the embodiment of Vayla, you’re the embodiment of Vahlo. Why shouldn’t you rule?”
The church acquiesced to his demands relatively quickly, wanting to get back on his good side and likely underestimating me as most people did.
That was fine. I was used to being underestimated, and we both knew they did so to their peril.
And that led us here, to the first joint coronation in Selara’s history.
“Tonight, I am honored to wear the crown and fulfill the covenant once more, but I doubt it’s me you’re all here to see.”
There are some laughs but mostly cheers, with quite a few people shouting out that they love him.
“I have introduced you to her before, as your Champion of the Bow. The Hero of Selara. But today, I introduce you to her as my wife, your future God-Queen, Sylvie of House Verran!”
The applause is thunderous, the floors of the arena shaking with it.
To them, I am a savior, the woman who defied her family and led their rightful ruler back to his throne.
The woman who shared with him the enormous burden of restoring the land, whose magic helped heal Selara and set right the wrongs of the past.
But even if I still doubt whether I’m worthy of it, I will accept the crown and the responsibility that comes with it. Because I love these people—the people in the royal box, and the people in the stands that I’ve never met.
And because I love him. Ronan, my golden God-King. My husband and the light of my life.
Wherever he goes, there I am.
The priest and priestess direct us to kneel before them. The priestess speaks first. “Your majesties, today we welcome you as children of the gods, to serve Selara in their name. Are you willing to take the oath?”
Ronan takes my hand, and we say together, “We are willing.”
Then the priest takes his turn, each of them alternating their parts of the oath. “Will you solemnly promise to govern the Kingdom of Selara and its Province Nithyria according to their laws and customs?”
“We will.”
“Will you uphold the laws of the land and bestow upon it the mercy of its King and Queen in all of your judgments?”
“We will.”
“Will you defend the church and uphold the sacred covenant that binds the kingdom and its people?”
“We will.”
The priest and priestess are offered a cup of oil, which they use to anoint our heads. “Be you anointed as was Queen Elissa by the first priests of our church, a daughter of Vayla. May the daughter of Vahlo and son of Vayla be blessed and anointed.”
Ronan and I look at each other, having just a few weeks ago met Queen Elissa and traveled to the very spot where her first temple stood.
We keep that to ourselves, along with most of what happened to us out there. It’s too strange for even us to understand, and we were there for all of it.
The priest and priestess take away the oil and return to us with crowns in their hands, both of them simple and delicate: his gold, mine silver.
“Vayla, we ask of you to sanctify this crown and, in doing so, restore to Ronan his royal majesty, crowning him in your name and favor and binding his life to this land forevermore.”
The priestess places the crown upon Ronan’s head, and the crowd roars in exultation. He smiles down privately before turning and meeting my eye, not wanting to miss a moment of the next part.
The priest steps forward and holds the crown of silver over my head. “Vahlo, we ask of you to sanctify this crown and, in doing so, grant to Sylvie her royal majesty, crowning her in your name and favor and binding her life to this land forevermore.”
And then the crown presses down into my hair. I breathe a sigh of relief. The weight of it isn’t as bad as I thought, not with Ronan here beside me.
I look back at him, and he’s smiling with so much pride and tenderness, a tear springs to my eye.
“Rise, God-King Ronan III and God-Queen Sylvie I, and may the gods save our King and Queen!”
Ronan and I stand and face the crowd, their triumphant cheers filling me with joy as they rain flowers down upon us, the wind swirling the petals around us and sweeping us into each other’s arms, where we fall into an embrace.
The cheer for our kiss is even bigger than the coronation, and as I break from it laughing, I look to see even Seth applauding.
We stand hand in hand for a long time, looking out at our kingdom, our people.
The home we’ve made together.
Above us, Kira dives, screeching and joining another bird in flight, but it isn’t Bitey.
It’s the phoenix, its red and gold plumage shining in the dying light.
With Ronan’s hand in mine, I look up as it whistles in gratitude and streaks red across the sky, soaring into the setting sun.