Page 127 of Reign of Light
It had done its job.
Not a single trace of Dane’s blood soils the blade or the hilt, but I know it was there. I saw it with my own eyes as he fell to the floor after plunging it through Dane’s back, the same way Weston threatened back in Dawnlin. Dane had been so focused on me, on exacting his revenge, that he didn’t consider the king having the same protections I would. Ultimately, that mistake wrote his demise.
“Goodbye, Father.”
The two words are all I can mutter. How can you put into words the years of inner turmoil, the feelings of inadequacy, and abandonment? It’s all I feel as I look upon his face for the final time, despite his explanation, despite his apology. Those feelings don’t just go away because he’s no longer in this world.
Stepping back from the carriage, I clear my throat before looking back toward Edmond and Mason. “Seal it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guards murmur, and spring into action around us. My body jolts slightly as the wooden lid slams into place as they lock it firmly, and I feel Weston take half a step closer to me, his presence comforting with the storm that is brewing in my mind.
Now, the only time he will ever look down on me is when I pass his portrait in the castle.
The scent of musky, damp earth fills the entrance hall when the guards open the wide, black wooden doors. Dark grey clouds hover low as a misty rain slants through the air, soaking the stone walkway just outside. An involuntary shiver courses through me, not only from the cold that now seeps into the room, but from the anticipation of what is about to happen. When I step foot out of those doors, thekingdom will know who I am. They will finally see me, Lennox. Once it’s done, there’s no going back.
Edmond, Weston and I repeatedly reviewed what was to come next, knowing full well I might forget everything the moment I stepped outside under the scrutiny of the kingdom. Weston will be right behind me, but I don’t want my first impression to be that of a naïve, stumbling little girl dropped into a position she wasn’t prepared for.
I know the procession, the ceremony, the expectations, and now I just need to go through the motions.
The guards wheel my father’s carriage out of the entryway, and within a few moments, it is hooked to the horses that will pull it in the procession through the city.
“Are you ready?” Weston mutters, and I nod, keeping my stare locked on the carriage. Hands linked behind me, I set my shoulders and take a deep breath, waiting for the procession to begin.
“Forward!” Weston calls, and the guards file out of the doorway and line the courtyard on either side of the carriage.
I startle when I feel his fingers lace with mine, squeezing tightly before falling away. The gesture makes my heart ache, not only because I know he’s reminding me he’s going through this with me, but also at how much of a risk he just took, showing any sort of affection to me out in public.
The carriage driver calls out, spurring the horses into movement, and the wheels begin to slowly roll forward. Rain patters on the wooden surface, the coffin laid in the open air for every gathered citizen to watch pass by.
Inhaling one final shuddering breath, I take my first steps to follow.
The hinges on the rarely used castle gates squeal as the large entrance gates open before us, and the guards file out onto the road. Their formation is pristine, as if they had been practicing for such an event. There was no way for them to be this prepared, and I canonly assume such perfection is a testament to Weston’s leadership and direction of his men. The driver shakes the reins, and the horses begin to walk, following behind the first set of guards.
This is my cue.
This procession is the last ceremony my father’s body will partake in; the last time his people will see him as king. Once he is buried, as the heir, I will take his place in the carriage, symbolizing a seamless transition of the royal line before the people. It’s simple enough, but nerves still course through my body as I step past the entryway, out into the open.
The cobblestones beneath my feet feel familiar, despite only traversing them for the first time almost two years ago, and rarely since then. As I step through the gates into the city that I can’t wait to get to know, my steps almost falter, and I have to fight to keep my head trained forward.
People.
Enormous crowds line the street, every person clad in dark clothes, squeezing together, taking up all available space, and braving the weather to pay respects to their king, and no doubt, to lay eyes on the new queen.
I swallow the lump in my throat as whispers carry on the wind, and from the corner of my eye, I see glances exchanged and fingers pointed in my direction.
I focus back on the carriage, trying not to let my insecurities overtake me. There’s no way to know if it is the sight of me for the first time, or the ring of healing bruises around my neck that has them talking. I may never know, and I don’t need to. I’m their queen, and I want them to get to know me, just as they did my father.
That’s the queen I want to be, no longer hidden away behind the walls.
The rest of the walk to the royal cemetery passes by in a blur of raindrops, whispers, and crowds of people. Besides the soundof Weston’s sure gait behind me, the only thing that keeps me from wanting to shrink away is knowing that every step I take is one closer to being through with this.
The rain doesn’t slow, and by the time the carriage enters the royal cemetery, my dress is completely soaked through. Curled tendrils escaped my bun and fall around my face, and my drenched hair is plastered to my head. When I lay eyes on the polished stone building for the first time, it hits me how many of my relatives are buried here, people I will never know, and soon, it will hold two more.
I hardly see the guards lifting the coffin from the carriage and walking it inside the waiting open doorway. I don’t even remember I’m supposed to move until Weston nudges me from behind, urging me to follow.
How long before I do this again with my mother after the healers stopped providing her with care? Would it be in days? Weeks? Months? How long will her body continue to hold on?
How did I end up alone?
