Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
FIRST, LAST, EVERYTHING
I’ve watched old ceremonies of human kings and queens, flickering images of gold and jewels, of crowns and long processions.
This is similar, yet altogether different.
We’re underground, in a vaulted catacomb lit by candle lamps.
These are for mine and Michael’s benefit only.
No humans are usually at Raven coronations.
I wonder what it would be like to be in the airy confines of a great abbey, light streaming through multi-coloured windows, instead of this gold-tinted darkness.
We weave our way through the jewelled throng, a carpet the colour of blood leading to a dais with a single throne.
Guards in the liveries of all the different houses stand to attention on either side of the carpet, a wall of protection between me and the crowd.
It’s like the Gathering again, times about ten thousand in terms of intensity.
What my parents are doing is unprecedented.
If there was ever another human child born to the house of Raven, those records have been lost. They were no doubt killed at birth, just as I was supposed to be.
Even if they did survive, I cannot imagine a world where they would be elevated above all vampires in the realm.
No one would have dreamed of such a thing.
But my parents, my mother, dreamed differently.
And a human is about to take the silver and black crown for the very first time.
It’s surreal to be here, for it to be actually happening, after all the years spent dreading this moment. I wish I could hold Michael’s hand, his warmth an anchor in the chill darkness.
This ceremony, with its jewels and darkness and old traditions, is the price I’m willing to pay, so that humans everywhere can be free.
I remember the artwork I saw, the beauty of ancient palaces and stone circles sheltered by wild mountain peaks.
A network of cities, hidden by forest, protected by darkness.
A place where the human spirit, in all its beauty, can flourish once more.
I think of a young man, his bare feet dark with dirt.
Another, dying in a blood-soaked meadow.
A small girl who just wanted a book. I’m doing this for all of them.
Taking this step so the cycle of death ends here.
If it takes my entire life, I’ll change things, restoring the balance once more.
I am the last Raven. Last of the old regime. And I’m also the first Raven. The first to straddle both worlds, to truly understand what it means. And the one who’ll bring them together.
I make my slow way through the jewelled crowd, heads bowing as I pass. It could be a thousand years in the past. Yet, as I approach the throne, all I see is the future, and hope for what it might bring.
When Varin reaches the dais he turns, standing one step down and slightly to the left of my throne. His dark eyes scan the crowd, his sword still unsheathed. A show of power, and a threat.
Michael takes his place to the right, muscular arms holding my sceptre steady. It’s carved and gilded, the top a single huge diamond topped with a tiny ebony raven, wings spread and beak open, screaming to the world.
Then it’s my turn.
I ascend the dais, facing the huge silver throne etched with patterns of curving feathers, inlaid with ebony enamel.
The high back is shaped like wings, curving down towards the arms, topped with a raven’s head, rubies gleaming in its enamelled eye sockets.
My parents, standing to the left of the throne, both look as though they’re holding back strong emotion.
I get it, totally. I glance at Michael. His gaze shifts to mine, just for a moment.
But long enough so I know what he’s thinking.
I’m with you.
He is with me, thank darkness. As long as we’re together, everything will be all right.
I turn to the assembled throng.
Everyone is here, which is as it should be. I spot Stella and Artos Ravenna, Deryck Vindhof and a few other faces I remember from Versailles. Jennie De Corbeau is smiling, arm-in-arm with her handsome husband, their family around them.
Oliver and Jacques are also here. I didn’t want to invite them, but it’s all part of the show, even though it infuriates me to pander to them this way. Once I’m crowned, I’ll shut them down. I’ve no doubt Michael will stand with me in doing so.
My gaze flicks to Joaquin. He’s close to the dais, dressed in his usual black, his handsome face impassive. Strange. His entourage are with him, also dressed in black, but Selene is nowhere to be seen. She doesn’t have to be here, but it’s odd that she isn’t.
‘Assembled Ravens.’ My mother’s voice rings through the vaulted space, echoing from ancient stones. The crowd becomes still, preternaturally so, as though collectively holding their breath. Perhaps because none of them, apart from Michael and me, actually need to breathe.
I can do this. He’s with me.
‘Just over two centuries ago, I stood before many of you assembled here tonight, and took my own vows to Raven,’ my mother continues.
‘To uphold the throne, to govern our vast realm, and fulfil my duty of providing an heir.’ She gives me a fond glance.
‘And so it has come to pass. Emelia, child of my blood, do you take this vow? Do you take this throne? Do you pledge your very life to our name?’
‘I do.’
Yes, I fucking take it. I fought for this, just as my mother did.
Fought against it, too. I think of the costume room, the shadows of my ancestors, the power I sometimes feel, burning inside me.
I draw on the shadows, just as I do the light.
Stand tall as my mother comes to me, lifting the crown from her shimmering dark hair, holding it high above my head.
‘And so, in view of all gathered here, I pass on my crown. To my blood-borne child, heart of my heart, bone of my bone.’ Her eyes are lined with red and she blinks, the world in her onyx gaze.
I’ll remember this for ever. This moment when she hands me her power, when she lets me know how much I’m loved.
I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. I smile at her, my heart full.
She lowers the crown onto my head. It’s surprisingly heavy for such a delicate piece, like a band of ice around my head.
My mother drops into a low curtsey, her skirts crumpling like petals.
She rises, taking my hand and leading me to the throne.
I sit. Michael comes to me and, on one knee, presents the sceptre with both hands.
His fingers brush mine, a brief touch, as he bows his head.
A reminder of what I’m here for. Of what we’re going to try and do. Together.
‘All hail the Raven,’ Varin shouts, raising his sword.
‘All hail the Raven!’ The crowd, as one, drops to one knee, heads bowed. As do Varin and Michael. And my parents.
I remember my mother telling me, in a jewelled room, that power lies in performance, as much as anything. And I’m the star of this show.
It’s time for me to shine.