Page 129 of Thrones We Steal

I desperately want to shift my shoulders under the weight of the purple robe and hope my discomfort during the hour-long ceremony isn’t noticeable. I can feel my mum’s eyes to my left, willing me to remember every decorum lesson I ever learned. She needn’t worry. I’m too terrified to move a muscle.

The archbishop clears his throat, a signal that I’m to fix my attention in his direction. I do so without moving my head. One has to practice for the 22-carat crown to come. He hands me a small book, which contains the oath I’m about to take.

“Is Your Majesty willing to take the oath?” he reads.

“I am willing,” I say. Oh god, willing, but am I ready?

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of the nation of Wesbourne, and of any other territories belonging or pertaining to her, according to her respective laws and customs?”

“I solemnly promise to do so.”

“Will you use your power to cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?”

“I will.”

I think of the change that’s already been enacted during my time as Queen-in-waiting. The security at the ports has been increased, and because of that, three drug lords have been apprehended and await trial.

At the archbishop’s nod, I walk carefully to the altar with the help of my entourage of ladies-in-waiting holding the train of my robe. I kneel on the steps and place my right hand on the large Holy Bible, then recite: “The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep. So help me God.” I lean forward and press my lips to the book.

I’m once again assisted to the coronation chair with the burden of millions of eyes upon me, both in person and watching from thousands of screens the world over. They’ve been following my journey from the beginning, from the shocking news of the diary to my wedding to this—the climax of everything.

The archbishop anoints and blesses me, before offering a prayer of consecration. That completed, I receive the orb and scepter, and both are much heavier than I anticipated. The ceremony is almost complete. The only thing left is the crown.

He lifts it from its cushioned resting place. Light dances from every angle. My breath grows thick in my throat as he raises it over my head. For some reason, this feels more momentous than the oath I just took. As I absorb its weight, both physical and symbolic, my heart threatens to burst from my rib cage.

I could never have asked for this, nor dreamed of it. But here it is, handed to me by fate. A far greater destiny than I’d ever have chosen for myself. I will do everything in my power for this country I love so fiercely. I will not let her down.

Adelaide was right. Few people get the opportunity to experience a great love. I’ve been lucky enough to have two. Henry crushed my heart, and I’ll likely never love another man the way I loved him. But I don’t regret a single moment I spent with him, and I’d do it all over again if I could. Those moments outweigh the loss of him.

And then there is Wesbourne. Dear, beautiful Wesbourne. My father gave me an incredible gift when he taught me to love her. She’s volatile, and she needs direction, but god, is she strong and brave. And she’s mine. Mine to care for and cherish, mine to protect and guide. Mine to love until death.

The crowd starts to chant. “God save the queen, God save the queen.” Yes, God save me if I let down this country and these people who believe in me.

My mother, now the Queen Mother, is the first to pay me homage. My eyes burn with unshed tears as she steps forward and bends before me in honor, my position one that would have been hers had my father lived another ten years. She kisses my cheek. “He’s so proud of you for being what he couldn’t.”

Bea approaches next to bow before me. She wears her new title, Princess Royal, quite beautifully. If she was considered a catch before, her status has risen infinitely more in the past three months, which, if evidenced by the cheeky grin on her face, she doesn’t mind one bit. I wink at her, grateful our friendship is back on good ground again.

I clasp the outstretched hand of the archbishop and rise, which brings everyone in attendance to their feet as well. As I begin my recessional down the aisle of the cathedral, heads bow on either side of me. Maisie’s blonde head shoots upward for a peek. I toss her a smile before she lowers it again.

I doubt Beck is in attendance, but I’m sure he’s watching somewhere. I wish him well and hope he won’t hate me forever. Maybe someday we can be friends again, although we’ll never be more than that, regardless of what Henry said. If I ever marry again, it can only be to someone who cares about Wesbourne as much as I do. Maybe I’ll even get lucky and find another great love, although I won’t be holding my breath.

The former king and queen bow their heads reverently as I pass, something that has to take great strength and humility. They could have chosen not to appear today, but the fact that they did means the world to me. I will be awarding William a dukedom in honor of his service as king for twenty-two years, which means Henry will one day inherit it as well, not that it will make any difference to him.

I haven’t seen him since that day in his hotel room, when he left me in tears. Our divorce was finalized the following week. True to his word, he’s stayed away from Wesbourne entirely if the tabloids are to be trusted. I still haven’t decided if I’m grateful or wish he weren’t so good at keeping his promises. Perhaps both.

I’ve come to realize there’s no such thing as letting go. There’s only accepting what’s already gone.

The cathedral doors are in sight now. On the other side stands a crowd of people—my people—ready to welcome their new queen. Only two months ago, I walked this same path with Henry beside me. This time I walk alone.

Two footmen stand ready to swing the doors open, and security personnel cluster around in a way I only hope I’ll eventually get used to. I take a deep breath.

It’s time to face my country.

As the doors swing open, a flash of movement on my right catches my eye. I turn my head, conscious that the crown will topple off with the slightest imbalance. My gaze collides with one so familiar it hurts. Our eyes lock, and everything I’ve wanted to say for the past month wells up within me, a tidal wave of emotion.

He came.

A carousel of memories spins before my eyes. He’s in each one, the sun, the breeze, and the storm. He reaches through me with his eyes, down to the basement of my soul, and wakes emotions I’ve been keeping locked up. A vise squeezes my chest, and I can’t breathe.

---