Chapter 50
Alaric
Guin paces the small chamber behind the great hall restlessly, tugging at the heavy brocade fabric of her coronation gown.
“Is there a pin loose, princess? Or should I say your majesty?”
She turns to glare at me. “They are making a mistake!”
“No, they are making a wise decision.” I open my arms and she comes to me, pressing her cheek against my chest and letting out a long sigh.
“Just because I have not raised the dead in the last three months does not mean it will not happen again.”
I hold her for a time without speaking.
Eventually she sighs. “Tell me again I am not like her.”
I laugh, because the way she phrased it means I have to. “You are not.”
She cuts me off with a growl, pulling back to glare up at me. “You had to say that! You had best take your heart back if this is how it will be.”
“Never.”
Her gaze softens, and she reaches up and tugs my head down so she can kiss me. I sink into it for a while, hoping it distracts her from her worry.
In my own mind I have no doubts. The differences between her and Melantha are stark.
For a start, Thornvale flourishes. Guin has nurtured local businesses, befriended the guildmasters and established a guildmeet so they can bring their grievances before the queen regularly.
She released the lords from their responsibilities of attending her at court which reduces the burden of entertaining them constantly.
Giving them the vote on whether or not to keep her in power means they have no cause to plot against her.
And a queen who is almost immune to assassination attempts has no need to be suspicious of courtiers.
Her lips are demanding over mine, her tongue questing into my mouth and her fingers tight in my hair. I love the way she makes little nips at my lower lip with her teeth.
Finally she pulls back and releases me. “The sooner we have done with this the sooner you can take me out of this stiff dress. How I hate formal dress.”
“I think you have grown too used to men’s clothing.”
“Well it is a lot more practical. I think I will start a new fashion. Perhaps I will make it the law.”
There is a gentle cough at the doorway as the herald steps inside and bends into a low bow. “Your Majesty, the lords and ladies are waiting.”
Guin sighs, but she takes my arm and lets me lead her into the hall.
The grand room is decorated with brightly colored banners bearing the royal crest of thorns around a white rose, but when I take a closer look, I notice something different.
The crest is changed. It’s not a rose at all, but a white heart, the symbol of my family.
I glance down at her and catch her watching me with a smile. “Do you like them?”
I’m astonished. She has caught me by surprise. I had no idea she was planning this little show of affection, but my answering smile won’t be repressed. “I love it.”
“Good. Then I hope the coronet will fit you. I did not want to spoil the surprise by telling you. If I’m to be crowned, then so shall you be. Though I wonder what you will think of your new title.”
She continues smiling to herself as I lead her to the dais where the priestess is waiting.
On either side of the room stand the courtiers dressed in their finest, the guildmasters and mistresses, and I recognize the prince of Ber and the duchess of Sudlanda.
Dressed in bright orange—the sacred color of the gods, the priestess’s face is hidden by a long veil to signify that she speaks for the gods.
Her human identity is masked by her role in the ceremony.
As we approach, she lifts her hands, and the music falls silent.
“Princess Guinevere, a heavy responsibility is about to fall to you, but the gods look with favor on those who hold high office with honor. Let me take this occasion to remind you of the three foundations of our faith: hospitality to all in need, respect for the natural forces of the world, and harmony of words and deeds. Uphold these three tenants and the gods will give you their blessings.”
Guin releases my arm and steps forward to kneel before the priestess.
I step back, but through the veil I catch a glimpse of her eyes, and the priestess looks over at me.
“Sir Alaric, Princess Guinevere has asked that you take the title of prince consort and join her in receiving the blessing as you join her in ruling at her side.”
There’s a hushed murmur from the crowd, but Guin doesn’t move.
She remains where she is, head bowed. Tentatively, I step forward again and kneel beside her, bowing my head.
No wonder the onlookers are talking. For a queen to honor a lowly marshal this way is unheard of.
But I know Guin, she will not be persuaded to yield now that she’s decided.
I hope it does not sow discord among her vassals.
The priestess gathers the symbols of the three gods and holds each over both of our heads, asking each god to bless us.
The bone of the hunter god, the pick of the stone god, and the cup of the beggar god.
Then she anoints us with oil and places a jeweled crown on Guin’s head.
To me she gives a slender silver coronet.
As she places it over my head, it slips perfectly into place.
Though my chest swells with pride, I pray silently that Guin hasn’t made a mistake.
It is one thing for the people to accept her as the rightful heir to the throne, despite her oddities, but no one except Guin knows I have any valid claim to royalty.
They only know me as Melantha’s most loyal servant.
The one mothers whisper horror stories about to small children to frighten them into being good.
Yet when the priestess steps back and invites us to turn, the sea of faces are smiling ones and the cheers sound genuine.
I hold out my hand for her, and she places hers on mine.
We walk through the crowd, receiving their bows and curtseys until the wide doors are opened and we exit into the sunlight of the square.
Another cheer goes up from the castle servants who ring the courtyard.
Citizens of note are gathered here too, bankers and blacksmiths and the petty magistrate, all in their best robes.
Our horses are led to us, saddled and dressed in colorful caparisons which hang down almost to their fetlocks.
The queen’s horse is dressed in white and Tharrok in black, with the newly reformed royal crest. For a woman having second thoughts about accepting the throne, Guin has done a lot of planning.
I hand her up onto her horse and mount Tharrok, and we ride out into the town to the cheers and calls of the common people who throw flowers and hoist young children onto their shoulders for a better look.
We are approaching the bridge when a rider pushes through the crowd. People make way for the horse whose hooves clatter on the paved street. “Your Majesties! A message from the castle!”
I rein Tharrok around. He tosses his head but turns as the messenger makes his approach. Guin turns her horse too. “What is it?”
The rider glances around at the crowd. “Your Majesty, the queen—I mean the old queen, your stepmother.”
Guin frowns. “What about her?”
“She is dead, Your Majesty. The guards say it must have happened this hour.”
“How?” I ask.
“Jumped from the east tower, sir—I mean, Your Majesty.”
I cannot say I’m sorry. Though I supposed I’m sorry it wasn’t more gruesome. That woman deserved every part of what fate has served up to her. More.
Guin nods. “Thank you. Do not cut the celebrations short. We will have to put off the announcement until tomorrow.”
Just then there’s a stirring in the crowd. People whisper to each other.
A woman with a shrill voice calls out. “The witch is dead!”
A cheer goes up, traveling through the crowd like wind passing over a field of flowers.
Guin looks over at them ruefully. “Or perhaps no announcement is necessary.”
“What do you want me to tell the guards to do with the body?”
Guin looks over at me. “Cut out her heart and chop the body into pieces. She will not escape being useful so easily. She can be of service to the people by fertilizing the soil. The heart is to be preserved and placed in a box.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The man turns his horse and rides back toward the castle.
I lean close to speak to Guin over the sound of the crowd. “What do you want that heart for?”
“A reminder? A warning? I suppose because I want something to remind me of her so I remember I am never going to become what she was. And because a tiny part of me wants to make very, very sure she never has any power over us again.”