Page 99 of The Huntsman's Heart
Lord Gruyer coughs. “But you also cannot die.”
“I—” I sigh. “You are decided then?”
They all nod.
“Then I will stay. For now. But let the council reconvene in three months to reconsider.”
Lord Gruyer inclines his head. “Thank you, Your Majesty. May we begin arranging your coronation?”
A coronation? I still have to face the people and break the news to my gargoyles. But I will have to face it eventually. I wave my hand in agreement. “Yes, my lord. When things are more settled. For now there are other arrangements to be made as well. Repairs to the wall, recruitment and training of new guards. Those will keep me busy for a while as you might imagine, but if you wish for a coronation, then we will have one. I only ask that you keep expenses low. I think Erenvold has had quite enough of needless spending recently.”
Alaric
Guin paces the small chamber behind the great hall restlessly, tugging at the heavy brocade fabric of her coronation gown.
“Is there a pin loose, princess? Or should I say your majesty?”
She turns to glare at me. “They are making a mistake!”
“No, they are making a wise decision.” I open my arms and she comes to me, pressing her cheek against my chest and letting out a long sigh.
“Just because I have not raised the dead in the last three months does not mean it will not happen again.”
I hold her for a time without speaking.
Eventually she sighs. “Tell me again I am not like her.”
I laugh, because the way she phrased it means I have to. “You are not.”
She cuts me off with a growl, pulling back to glare up at me. “You had to say that! You had best take your heart back if this is how it will be.”
“Never.”
Her gaze softens, and she reaches up and tugs my head down so she can kiss me. I sink into it for a while, hoping it distracts her from her worry.
In my own mind I have no doubts. The differences between her and Melantha are stark.
For a start, Thornvale flourishes. Guin has nurtured local businesses, befriended the guildmasters and established a guildmeet so they can bring their grievances before the queen regularly. She released the lords from their responsibilities of attending her at court which reduces the burden of entertaining them constantly. Giving them the vote on whether or not to keep her in power means they have no cause to plot against her. And a queen who is almost immune to assassination attempts has no need to be suspicious of courtiers.
Her lips are demanding over mine, her tongue questing into my mouth and her fingers tight in my hair. I love the way she makes little nips at my lower lip with her teeth.
Finally she pulls back and releases me. “The sooner we have done with this the sooner you can take me out of this stiff dress. How I hate formal dress.”
“I think you have grown too used to men’s clothing.”
“Well it is a lot more practical. I think I will start a new fashion. Perhaps I will make it the law.”
There is a gentle cough at the doorway as the herald steps inside and bends into a low bow. “Your Majesty, the lords and ladies are waiting.”
Guin sighs, but she takes my arm and lets me lead her into the hall. The grand room is decorated with brightly colored banners bearing the royal crest of thorns around a white rose, but when I take a closer look, I notice something different. The crest is changed. It’s not a rose at all, but a white heart, the symbol of my family.
I glance down at her and catch her watching me with a smile. “Do you like them?”
I’m astonished. She has caught me by surprise. I had no idea she was planning this little show of affection, but my answering smile won’t be repressed. “I love it.”
“Good. Then I hope the coronet will fit you. I did not want to spoil the surprise by telling you. If I’m to be crowned, then so shall you be. Though I wonder what you will think of your new title.”
She continues smiling to herself as I lead her to the dais where the priestess is waiting. On either side of the room stand the courtiers dressed in their finest, the guildmasters and mistresses, and I recognize the prince of Ber and the duchess of Sudlanda. Dressed in bright orange—the sacred color of the gods, the priestess’s face is hidden by a long veil to signify thatshe speaks for the gods. Her human identity is masked by her role in the ceremony. As we approach, she lifts her hands, and the music falls silent.
