LVIII | THE SKY GAINS A NEW STAR
Celvene had pondered the question since Noriya had retreated. They'd left destruction in their wake. The castle had shattered from the inside. Buildings around the city had crumbled. Citizens had lost their lives. Even now, the faintest smell of blood lingered in the salt-soaked air.
But they'd started to rebuild. Not just their city, but their unity as a community. Connections were rare within Aizasea, but Celvene intended to change that, step by step. After today, her opportunities to make Aizasea blossom were limitless.
In gaining a newfound home, she needed to merge it with her old home.
Perhaps others would want to leave their past life behind, or they'd want to forget it happened.
But Celvene didn't want to forget—she wanted to embrace her homes not as separate entities, but as one.
And in her mind, there was no better way to pay homage to her culture and her family than to be crowned Queen of Aizasea in the traditional attire of her people.
Vosalon was built from stardust and divinity, and though war ran through its bones, Celvene had only known peace living there.
As a result, Celvene's dress was black, entwined with threads of gold, as bright as the stars in the sky.
The graceful plunging neckline was outlined with golden stamped outlines of roses, which continued down the billowing skirt.
She adjusted her gloves, as onyx as her dress, and made sure they were pulled up to her elbows.
Her brunette hair fell softly in loose waves. The light from the restored chandelier glistened on each strand, enveloping her face in a halo. Her hair slipped over her skin like satin when she ran her fingers through it.
"You look beautiful," said Melantha, fixing the necklace chained around Celvene's neck.
A small smile graced her lips; Celvene reached forward and pecked her cheek.
Their relationship was still new to Celvene—she wasn't even sure what she could call it, though "dating" felt nice—but she hadn't realized when she was younger, her buried feelings would ever be able to be acted upon.
The casualness of their relationship so far had been nice.
With how tumultuous Celvene's life had been.
.. well, for the past few years, but especially recently, something calm and steady was a very welcome change.
Celvene smirked to herself. Once she was crowned, they could excite their lives far more.
"So do you. Who would've thought Melantha of Krurvi could clean up so nicely?" Celvene grinned when Melantha rolled her eyes, but the smile slipped from her face when Melantha's gaze fell to the floor.
"I've been thinking," Melantha said. She fiddled with the long skirt of her jade green dress.
"I don't think I want to consider myself from Noriya or Vosalon anymore.
I know Noriya is where I lived the longest, but it never felt like home, and it doesn't feel right sharing Vosalon as my true home, given its ties with my father, even if you're from there, too.
I think... I think I can see myself living here. In Aizasea."
"Just a few months ago, you were trying to kill us, and now you're considering us home." Celvene slung her arm over Melantha's shoulder as best she could when the soldier frowned, her posture dipping. "I jest. I'm glad you're here, Mel. I missed you."
"I just feel ashamed for not realizing the obvious truth when it was right under my nose.
And I feel bad that I was so hateful towards you when you didn't deserve it," Melantha said, though she leaned into Celvene's embrace.
"And to think I thought I was both intelligent and doing what was right for Fellstride. "
"On the bright side, we have all the time in the world to send each other letters now," Celvene said. She released Melantha. "Thanks for coming back."
"Thank you for accepting me after everything."
There was a knock on the door to Celvene's room, and a moment later, it cracked open. Oriel's head popped in.
"Are you ready?" they asked.
Celvene glanced at Melantha, who offered a soft twinkle in her eyes. Celvene turned her attention to Oriel. "Ready as I'll ever be."
She exited the room with Melantha in tow, smoothing out her dress. Oriel's sleek suit cut off at their knee—where their artificial leg had returned to life. With one hand, they gripped their cane, and with the other arm, they rested it behind their back. Their head was held high.
"All you have to do is walk down the aisle. The officiant will tell you what to do once you stop. She's a friend of the kingdom. I'm sure you'll get along swimmingly," they said.
"Oriel," Celvene said, glancing up at the advisor. "You weren't here when Virion was crowned, right?"
"I arrived a few decades after Virion founded Aizasea, so no, given my own godly parent didn't grace me to this world until after he'd founded the kingdom. I've read countless records of crownings, though. I'm qualified enough, if that's what you're worried about."
"No." Celvene pivoted her gaze ahead. "I'm just... scared. This is all new. Obviously. And even though I've been working towards this for so long, it doesn't feel real."
"If anyone is worthy enough to be queen, it's you, Celvene," Melantha said. The weight of her words were heavy, though, because Melantha had forgotten to mention the crushing feeling of inheriting a war-struck kingdom with all the disadvantages in the world stacked against it.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, sighing. "Let's hope so."
Oriel inched their way into her vision. "Perhaps this isn't the best time, but there are matters I'll need to get to after your coronation, and I'm sure you'll be too busy to think about the war when you're celebrating.
That, and you deserve a break for once. So I'll ask now—near the end, Aleksandr closed every resource coming into Aizasea. Do you want to remedy that soon?"
"Tell Halisca to open the port for imports and exports and begin to contact the other two kingdoms for trade opportunities.
Resume communication with the farms around the kingdom to start producing a steady stream of food into the city.
" She'd met Halisca the day before. He was a rare case of a worker that Aleksandr had kept around; she didn't know if she could trust him, but for now, she'd believe he had the city's best interests at heart.
"Tomorrow, I will begin looking for replacements for castle staff if they've already moved out of the city, and I'll see what can be done about providing resources to citizens who have lost something from the war.
But for now..." She breathed in, running a hand through her hair as they approached the grand doors to the auditorium. "It's time for me to become queen."
Melantha pushed open one of the doors, and Celvene walked through, heart racing.
The throne room had been largely untouched by Noriya's attacks, so Celvene hadn't designated anyone to fix the damages yet.
And in a way, she felt as though the imperfections of the room were a sign of her rule to come: while she wasn't flawless in her decisions, she was working her hardest to make things work.
In all honesty, she'd have felt dirty if she'd asked for the throne room to be mended before anything else. The city needed to be repaired before the castle did—that was where the true heart of the kingdom was, not in some artificial homage to royalty.
Her heels clicked against the tile until she stepped onto a rug running to the throne.
Beside her, multiple small craters dotted the room, both in the walls and the floors, likely from earth or fire spells gone awry during the battle.
Celvene kept her gaze trained ahead of her.
The hall was swarming with citizens, packed to the brim, but they'd all fallen quiet.
It was so silent that even with the rug, Celvene could still hear every muffled step she took.
Her dress dragged behind her in waves. She kept her hands clasped, chin high, and back straight. Heads followed her every movement, but instead of shrinking back at the attention or averting her gaze, she smiled. She smiled as widely as she could.
She neared the front of the room. For the first time, Aleksandr was not standing in front of the throne, or sitting in it with a glass of wine. Instead, there was a short woman with dark brown skin, coiled white hair, and black eyes.
"Who are you?" asked Celvene quietly once she'd reached the throne.
"I knew Virion well," the woman said, age lines decorating her face.
"When I heard of his death, my heart grew empty, and I mourned the loss of Fellstride's great king.
I feared his replacement. However, I think he has a fine successor, based on what I have heard of you.
" She smiled. "My name is Carya. It is a tradition written in Virion's decree for royalty in Fellstride to be crowned by someone close to their predecessor.
As such, I will be crowning you as queen. "
In her delicate hands was a velvet pillow with the crown she'd never gotten a glimpse of sitting atop.
Celvene met Carya's eyes, and something in her stiffened.
She didn't know if it was fear of betrayal—how she'd just gotten rid of one traitor, to potentially walk into another trap with someone lying about who she was—or the deep-seeded fright of becoming queen after so much fighting.
"I see the apprehension in your eyes, liege. I am not the enemy," said Carya. "Look into my eyes."
Celvene obliged, and as she searched the dark depths, her body relaxed. Something in there told Celvene that Carya was not the enemy.
But that didn't mean she could trust everyone in the throne room. There was a chance someone was working for Noriya.
The base of the crown was wrought with shimmering gold, indented with filigree patterns that depicted various times in Aizasea's history.
Vines wrapped with cobalt jewels crawled to the highlight of the crown: a majestic gemstone that glittered with several shades of blue.
It emitted a soft glow, and the longer Celvene stared at it, the more something burned in her heart. Something good, for a change.
After a moment of wringing her hands together, Celvene was ready.
She bowed her head, and with two gentle hands, Carya placed the crown atop Celvene's hair.
The weight of responsibility, the echoes of Virion's wisdom, and the whispers of the kingdom's hopes and dreams surged through Celvene's body, kindling a new fire within her.
The audience erupted into a barrage of celebration.
In the sea of people, she could see her friends—Melantha, Khamisi, though not Quinn; she'd have to be one of the first people Celvene visited after this.
However, there were other familiar faces from the Painted Sky Circus, and they all beamed at her, clapping and cheering.
Her heart swelled with warmth, and all the doubts she'd harbored dissipated. A wave of calm befell her.
Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she wiped them away with a smile. The citizens stomped their feet, yelling her name. By the stage was Oriel, along with several other recognizable figures from the Royal Council. Even Oriel was applauding, a smile across their lips.
"I present to you the new Queen of Aizasea," Carya said, voice booming throughout the throne room. "Celvene Virac, the hero and savior of this grand kingdom!"
The celebration strengthened, and every citizen rallied with grins that stretched from ear to ear. They were celebrating Celvene, when mere months before, they would have chased her off the stage.
But word of her worth and Aleksandr's transgressions had spread through Aizasea like a hungry wildfire—now, everyone knew the truth. And they looked to the right ruler to guide them.
Even with the excitement that gushed through her, she didn't let the emotion take hold of her.
Her fingertips tingled with comfort, and she raised them in the air as a sign to the city—that she'd stand with them.
While she didn't shy away from letting herself feel proud, she knew not to let her emotions cloud her judgment too much. She needed to focus.
She knew her work was far from over. She had a war to win.