Page 129 of Reign of Light
She hesitates before slowly extending her hand and gently taking mine. “I’m honored to know you, Your Majesty. I didn’t before, but now, seeing who you are, I have no fears at all that the kingdom is in your hands.”
Gratitude and pride well in my chest, and the words stick in my throat as I try to respond.
“Thank you, Estelle. That means a great deal to me.”
She releases my hand before dropping into another deep curtsey. “If you need anything at all, just send word.”
“If I need anything, I’ll come see you myself.” She returns my smile warmly before stepping away and joining a group at the edge of the road. They all look at her, some flabbergasted, some nervous, but when I raise my hand in a wave at the little girl clutching her father’s neck, their expressions change, and the beaming smiles that return makes me feel warm despite my cold, wet clothes.
I can do this. I can be the kind of queen whose people know she cares for them, and hopefully earns the same back. I just need to be myself, not who anyone else wants me to be, or who I thought they wanted me to be. Just Lennox. My time on Dawnlin showed me I can let people in, and let them see who I am, and that who I am is enough to be loved.
My people will see it too.
“My queen,” Weston grumbles, and extends his hand to me again. This time, I don’t stop. I take it, stepping into the carriage and sitting down on the soaked fabric as the now heavy mist falls around us.
Weston slams the door of the carriage behind me and takes his place at the door. His eyes never leave the crowd as he scans for threats in this last section of the ceremony.
The horses walk, and the carriage jolts slowly forward. My transition in front of the kingdom is complete, and now we will proceed through the streets until we’re back home.
The farther from the cemetery we are, the more the mood of the crowd changes. While we are in the midst of the month long mourning period after the death of a king or queen, it doesn’t stop my people from expressing their thoughts about having a new queen.
My jaw slackens as I stare into the crowd, stunned. People of all ages wave as I pass, and the pointing I thought was surely out of disappointment, doesn’t feel that way now. It feels like acceptance, and the weight of worry lifts from my shoulders as I smile softlyback, acknowledging the waving children with a flutter of my fingers or a nod of my head.
We round a corner, heading down the final long stretch of road that leads back to the castle gate, and the closer we get, the more the crowds grow. With every cheer and wave, I want to cry for a different reason, as I see the people spilling over the edges of the streets, even down the alleyways attempting to see me.
My skin prickles as I recognize where we are, and know what is approaching. I see the entrance to the alley that changed the trajectory of my life, and I can’t help but want a glimpse at the fountain that now holds a special place in my heart and will always bring up fond memories.
As we pass the alley, and my eyes fall on it, a sharp gasp rips from my throat. I turn in my seat, craning my neck to try to get a better view, all while trying not to draw the attention of the faces packed around it.
My gasp must have caught Weston’s attention, because when I glance down, he’s looking up at me, his brows drawn as he takes in the surprise I am sure is written all over me. I tear my gaze away from him and look back to the alley, and from the corner of my eye, see him do the same before his head snaps back toward me.
My jaw slackens as I take it in, the symbol of the place I love, that brought me hope, and a family. Brought me Weston. The symbol that I thought lost its magic because of its aged and decrepit appearance. There’s no mistaking that this isn’t the same fountain that brought me to Dawnlin.
Becausethisfountain is flowing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Idon’t wait for the carriage to come to a complete stop before I throw open the door and run down the steps. I don’t even let Weston help me out, like I’m sure he was prepared to do. Instead, I traipse through the entrance hall with one solitary focus: getting somewhere we can freely talk, where we won’t be hindered by the magic binding our speech.
What could this mean?
Why is the fountain so different, and so suddenly?
Is the change because of the magic? Or am I holding onto hope when the change can be explained by something as simple as the city preparing for the king’s funeral?
I can feel Weston right behind me, his loud steps pounding to keep pace with mine as I wordlessly speed through the castle. I don’t head to my room. It’s too far away, and I need to talk to him now, so I turn off and head to a room I haven’t beenin for years.
The familiar smell of leather-bound pages calms my rapid breathing ever so slightly as I push open the door to the library. Weston catches it just before it closes, and I whirl on him as he slides the lock into place.
“Did you see it? Did you see the fountain?”
He nods and presses a finger to his lips. Stepping past me, he makes his way around the library, checking down every aisle of shelves and behind every armchair to ensure we’re alone before walking back to me.
“I saw.”
“It’s nothing like it was before. The water, the stone, it?—”
“It is,” he says, pointing toward the city, where it lies outside of the walls, surrounded by my people walking past it on their way home with no idea of the magic they are so close to. “That is what I remember. It’s what the fountain looked like when I called the Guardian. It wasn’t the decaying thing that brought us home.” His voice is different. Urgent. Hopeful. And I can’t deny I feel the same thing.
