Page 15 of Summer of Sacrifice

make your battlements of moonstone.

I shall protect your heart of garnet,

your soul of amethyst,

and all your ways will be blessed

by We Three.

Maiden, Mother, and Crone.”

Agatha’s hands were trembling when Emile’s voice finished echoing across the room. She watched in watery silence as he set the Sacred Text on a lectern, and someone handed him a white fur cape. He stepped forward and fixed it around her shoulders with a golden clasp. It fit perfectly beneath the shoulder adornment Tindle had given her dress, to the point it couldn’t have been a coincidence.

“Do you,” Emile’s voice rang out again, “Agatha Peridot, vow to protect this kingdom and all her inhabitants with the same fervour Our Goddess Three has vowed to protect you?”

I will not cry, she gritted out inwardly, perilously close to doing so. “I do.”

Emile gestured to Grimm, who came to stand next to her. “It is with the power vested in me by the grace of Our Goddess Three, Hespa; Mother, Maiden, and Crone, that I pronounce you Sovereign Queen Agatha Louise Joubert Peridot.”

Grimm took the Crown of Seagovia, a heavy diadem of reds and golds, in his hands as Emile took the velvet pillow from him. With a smirk of pride that shot through the bond so heavily she had to fight to stay afoot, Grimm set the heavy crown upon her head—upon her life. In unison, he and Emile turned Agatha to face her gathered people. Anne darted out from what seemed like thin air to straighten her skirts behind her.

Grimm took a knee, followed by Emile. Then, one by one, every person in attendance hit their knees. Chill bumps ran up her arms, and tears built behind her eyes. Her first order of business before leaving for Achlys would be to ensure no one ever knelt before her again.

Except maybe Grimm.

She just caught the equivalent of his snort through the bond before he stood and shouted. “Long live the queen!”

The crowd rose, echoing his call in a deafening cacophony. All except for one voice.

One voice that made obscene catcalls. Agatha’s eyes followed where the sound came from, locking eyes with her obnoxious Sister Spring. Then, her Sister Winter and Sister Summer.

She would burn this world down for these people if she had to.

Most of all, her Sisters Solstice.

The guests had been greeted, the coronation ball set in motion, and her gown blessedly changed. Agatha, Grimm, and Emile had snuck away from the festivities, three trays of food in tow. She watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Grimm sat in their private chambers, stoic and rigid, pretending he wasn’t impressed with the plan Emile was laying out. Drifting through the bond was a burgeoning tolerance.

Quit looking at me like that.

Like what? she teased, Emile’s voice drowned out in her head as Grimm spoke to her there.

Like the moment he leaves you’re going to sing told you so, told you so until I cover my ears.

Oof. Too bad covering your ears doesn’t work anymore.

Little witch, I’m going to?—

“Your Highness?”

Grimm startled at Emile’s voice, and Agatha laughed outright. “We’re listening, von Fuchs. Go on.”

It truly was a solid plan. Though Emile had given far too many details, most likely for being so worried Grimm would disapprove of something, the basis was simple. Effective. Augustus would ensure the soldiers were ready and prepared for anything that might come at Seagovia in the natural sense. Tindle would aid Winnie and Laurent from afar in organising the factions Grimm and Gaius had set in place years ago, ensuring they were stationed in prime positions to thwart any of Chresedia’s efforts across Seagovia, as best they were able. Dulci would continue to smooth over the rough edges between the mortal and magical, promoting peace through relief efforts led by witches. Anne, sweet Anne, was in charge of foreign affairs. Agatha’s heart swelled to think that Emile had placed such a task in Anne’s hands. He spoke with the utmost confidence that she would ensure all the leaders of Midlerea knew what was potentially coming without instilling fear or divulging too much unnecessary information, causing problems later. Last but certainly not least, Emile would rally the witches, warlocks, and mages himself, bringing them together in secret and pleading with them to enlist in the fight against Chresedia on the eclipse.

“Thoughts, Your Majesty?”

They were Emile’s words, but Agatha glowered at Grimm before turning to Emile. Grimm mouthed an offended, “Why are you mad at me?”

“Emile, hear me because this is a command as your queen…” Gross. She hated herself for saying something so absurd, but he needed to listen. “Do not call me Your Majesty just because Grimm is in the room now, and you don’t want to make him angry.”

---