“What does that matter?” Tamara asked. Her near-whisper reminding me I wasn’t supposed to be talking. I never did things the way I was supposed to. Ceremonies made me impatient. Nyfain too. They just seemed like a colossal waste of time.
“It matters for when we see him at the council,” I said. “We might not be able to get the kingdom’s stuff back, but we can surely make him look even more despicable. That goes a long way in polite society, or so the queen always says.”
“You will need to call her the queen mother, or by her name,” Jade whispered. “You’re going to be the queen now.”
“Right, right.” I didn’t tell them that this all felt far-fetched. They weren’t wrong, but I didn’t feel like a queen at all.
People gathered around the stairs and the first floor, smiling and cheering as I made my way down. As a procession, we turned toward the rear main ballroom, which had been modified into a new throne room. Grander than the last, it was furnished in high style and with large oil paintings of past kings and queens and scenery on the walls. It was here the villagers would come every month to pay respects or make petitions, asking us to sort out their grievances. It would also be a place where we’d hold court, which was basically like giving the nobles a turn to bitch.
As I approached, I kept my gaze down for a moment, the nervousness so extreme it felt like it would choke me. But then I looked up slowly, finding Nyfain at the rear of the room, facing front. Steps had been built leading up to a dais, and two golden-sprayed wooden chairs waited for us, fairly plain because we’d run out of armory to melt, with burgundy-cushioned high backs and seats. The sprayed woodwork was intricate and exquisite, made by a really fine master craftsman from one of the villages who liked banging demons and had thus escaped their culling of talented people.
Eventually we’d up our game, but they would do for now.
A long, flowing velvet cape spread across the floor behind Nyfain, arranged in such a way that I couldn’t see any other pieces of his outfit, just his somewhat tamed brown hair peeking out from a similar crown to mine. Heart thumping, palms sweaty, I started forward, only then seeing Hannon at the top of the stairs, looking down at me.
Nyfain and I had agreed that, in place of anyone more suitable, our former head advisor (a role that had been given to Arleth) and current treasurer would draw up the official documents. Hannon had asked for the privilege and responsibility to go to someone else, and at first I agreed with him, but Nyfain was adamant. I’d relented and so had Hannon, mostly because it wouldn’t be prudent for the former queen to do it (for some reason) and we were short on time. Nyfain wanted this done and done now. He was tired of waiting for his queen.
How could a girl let her brother refuse that? She couldn’t. Poor Hannon was locked in.
He wore a strange rectangular hat that was likely reserved for religious people (they’d long since succumbed to the demons), and a long cream robe with gold and burgundy lines down the front. A little smile played across his lips, and a strange sheen, like the full light spectrum, filtered into the air around him.
I took a deep breath and walked at a measured pace toward Nyfain, following the red velvet rug without glancing at the various people gathered in the room. I almost wanted to turn around; my feelings of unworthiness were beating into me.
Then Nyfain turned just a little, looking back at me. I met his golden gaze, now with a light speckle of my burgundy from the double claiming, and locked on to it. He reached me through the bond and brought me closer to him. We were intimately connected in a way most people couldn’t be. True mates in all things. We were in this together.
So I stepped up next to him, still looking at him, and even though we were supposed to give Hannon our undivided attention as he said the official sermon, I couldn’t bear to tear my eyes away from my golden dragon prince, asking me to take his hand and remain by his side forever.
“Are you ready?” he asked me in a subdued voice when Hannon had finished. Light drifted from Hannon, glowing down around us, making the air wavy with pastel light and power. Little sparks danced around Nyfain’s face and against his crown, playful and beautiful, a perfect accent to this amazing moment.
Nyfain reached out, and I took his hand. After a beat, during which the staff grabbed our long trains and lifted, he circled me, turning me as he did. For one solid beat, he looked into my eyes, hand in hand, and then we walked forward as king and queen of Wyvern.