3. 3
Magnus
Ibecome King of Laandia eight months later.
My father suffered a heart attack and died peacefully in his sleep. I can be glad that he didn’t suffer, but the last six months have been a mess of meetings with Laandian officials, world rulers, and lessons in everything a king would need to know.
I still don’t feel prepared.
Dad did everything he could to teach me what he needed, along with his chief advisor, Johanne Crow. His death was sudden, but not unexpected. Dad came to Germany to find out my decision because of recent heart scares. He made the changes that he needed to, but he wanted things settled just in case.
I tried to make the most of the time I had with him.
My brother still hasn’t forgiven me for picking the throne over my band.
He’s here tonight at the Coronation Ball.
Earlier today, I was crowned His Majesty King Magnus Christian William Mackenzie Erickson, by the Grace of God and the Will of the People, Lord of the Sea and Sky, Warden of the Northern Coast, Heir to Leif the Founder, Protector of the Realm, and King of Laandia.
The titles had been a surprise.
“That’s a lot of words,” I murmured to the Archbishop of Laandia, after he handed me the crown. King Leif had crowned himself, and the tradition continued with my father, and now me.
“You already had one title removed, sir.”
“I was hoping for more,” I admitted, just before I set the crown on my head.
The titles had been a surprise, but not as much as the crown.
The circlet is brushed gold, edged with delicate oak leaves to honour the forests that cover the country, with alternating sapphires and diamonds—the colours of the sea and the winter sky.
I expected the crown to sparkle—and not feel so heavy as I placed it on my head.
The Coronation Ball tonight is supposed to be a celebration, but it’s difficult to get into the party atmosphere. While I have been grieving my father for the last few months, knowing that the end was near, it was still a shock that he is no longer here.
My coronation had been a somber ceremony.
I don’t know how it can be anything else, since I wear the crown because my father is dead. The cheers of Long Live King Magnus are heard because King Euan is no longer living.
I lost my father, but Laandia has gained a new king.
It’s difficult to connect the two.
While the ceremony itself was full of subdued pomp and circumstance—or as much as the people of Laandia can stand—the Coronation Ball will be a party.
The ceremony signified the passing of my father, and the ball will celebrate the future.
My future.
In the ballroom of the castle, chandeliers hung from thick oak beams cast a warm glow down on high round tables covered in white cloths. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the garden and, past that, the ocean at the bottom of the cliff. Flowers are everywhere.
Crystal flutes line the bar, ready for the champagne to be poured.
I don’t think a bottle of champagne would be enough for me tonight. I need something much stronger to rid the sense of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Or maybe in the wrong body.
I feel very wrong, and have since they told me my father was dead.
“All good?” Duncan asks as he joins me where I stand at the end of the receiving line. It’s not really much of a receiving line, just me.
My brother refused to welcome anyone.
Dante may not offer any support to me in my new role, but Duncan has never left my side.
Not only since my father passed, but for the past six months.
When I told the band I needed to quit, the decision to end things was unanimous. Kr?ftig would be the five of us, or not at all.
The boys followed me to Laandia. Luciano stayed only for a few weeks before leaving for France to study at the Cordon Bleu. He wants to be a chef. At the castle.
He wants to work for me.
Big, brawly Etienne has taken over as head of my security.
Quiet Benny, the one who always made sure the band got to the right place at the right time, became my equerry.
And Duncan has become my chief advisor since Johanne Crow resigned hours after my father’s death.
It’s clear Johanne would have preferred my brother as king. He said as much in his resignation letter. Not a surprise, but never nice to hear.
I don’t know if the country feels the same way.
I would have replaced Johanne with Duncan eventually, but he made it easier for me by leaving. It’s not so easy for Duncan, but he’s been learning the ropes along with me for the past few months.
He’s left to do a few modelling assignments, but has settled into the castle in Battle Harbour like he was born here.
“Yeah,” I say heavily before giving myself a shake. “All good.” I manage a smile.
Duncan gives me a long look. We’ve been friends too long for him to know that’s not the case, that I’m not okay. “You’ve got this,” he says with a reassuring smile.
The man is too good-looking for his own good, even when he’s pitying me.
Not that anyone should be pitying me. I’m a king. I can do anything I want, go anywhere I want.
We all know that’s not the case, though.
“I know,” I tell Duncan. I have no choice but to get this. And get it right now, because the doors are about to open, and this place is going to get really busy, really fast.
Five hundred guests had been invited, and nearly every one of them accepted. The world knows a coronation is the invitation of a lifetime.
Kings and queens, presidents and prime ministers. Olympic champions, Oscar winners, industry leaders, and some of the world’s most influential people.
I added plenty of musicians to the guest list. Touring the world has introduced me to some incredible people, and many have become genuine friends over the years.
But this night isn’t reserved for the famous.
Scattered among the dignitaries and celebrities are ordinary Laandians who have quietly shaped my life: my parents’ oldest friends, neighbours who’ve watched me grow up, former teachers who’d endured my teenage years, the coach who taught me discipline, and the people who offered support and encouragement when I needed it most.
My father once told me a king may wear the crown alone, but no one reaches the throne without the kindness of others, and I took it to heart.
Diandra Laz appears between us, with two wine glasses. She has been one of the people who have always been there for me, mainly because of her closeness to her brother. Dee has always taken the “love my brother, love his best friend” motto to heart.
But not like that. Diandra and I have only ever been friends.
Except for one night, and we don’t talk about that. Not ever. “Thanks,” I tell her, taking one of the glasses. “But I’d really love a pint.”
“You’re not standing here with a pint,” she chides. “And it’s mead, not wine.”
“You’re my second favourite Laz, you know that,” I tell her, leaning out of sight of the door to down the glass, warmth spreading through the hollowness inside. It’s hard to be celebrating when my life has turned completely upside down.
Not to mention my father died. And my brother still isn’t speaking to me.
“I’ll have to bring a bigger glass next time.” She peers around me. “Looks like you’re almost ready to start. Interesting choice of ceremonial uniform,” Diandra says with a grin. As she gives my royal blue pants, red jacket with the yellow sash slashing across it, a bemused glance.
“My father let my mother design it, and I really think she must have been colour-blind,” I tug at the hem of my jacket. The red clashes with my hair, and this yellow is not a good colour for anyone.
But this is what the royal family of Laandia wears during royal celebrations.
“You’re definitely noticeable.” Diandra grins again.
I’ve known her for years. She’s practically my sister—smart, quick-witted, and blessed with a wicked sense of humour.
Diandra is an artist, and one of the few people who’s never been impressed by the title, or anything else I’ve managed to accomplish.
I’m used to people watching me, but it’s different when I’m on stage. Although some might say this is like a giant stage, with a huge audience. Being a king is like giving a different kind of performance.
I’m not comfortable with it. Yet.
I take a deep breath. Etienne hovers by the door, his shoulders straining the material of his suit, his earpiece tucked in. Benny has positioned me against the wall, so when people arrive, they’ll have to pass by me on the way to the bar.
Benny signals to Duncan, as smoothly as if we’re on stage. “Time to go,” Duncan tells me.
“Yep,” I say as Etienne swings open the double doors.
I may not have wanted to be king, but I’m good at this. I will be good at this.
“Do you know what would make this easier?” Diandra asks as the first guests appear at the door. They take in the fuss and finery of the ballroom before they see me standing there, alone, save Duncan and Diandra slightly behind me.
“If it wasn’t a coronation and I could hop on the stage and start jamming?” I counter.
“If you had a wife to share this with,” she says. “Dunc and I can only do so much. If you had a wife, you’d have someone to rescue you from boring people. She’d help you remember names. You could play good cop, bad cop.”
Over the years, I’ve given more thought to being a king than being married.
“I think a queen would do a little more than that,” Duncan points out.
“I’m not looking for a queen,” I inform them as a grinning Bryan Adams makes a beeline for me. “And now is not the time for this.”
“Maybe you should be,” Diandra says. “And I think it’s the best time for it.”