Page 121 of The Kingdom's Crown

"You'll have to stop calling me that," I said, laughing nervously.

Aric smirked. "I don't think I will. I never meant it as your title."

He'd meant it to tease me, calling me spoiled. Or maybe he'd meant that Ishouldbe spoiled and cared for, treated delicately and teased terribly. I would be queen soon, but that wouldn't stop Aric from correcting me when he felt I was wrong or commanding me when I needed someone to put a path in front of me before I lost my way.

He squeezed my fingers and headed for the door. One by one, they kissed me, wished me luck, and left the room. Owen and Cosmo hovered as the others left, waiting until we were alone.

"I wish you could make that walk with me," I whispered.

"You don't need us," Owen said.

I caught my breath and shook my head. "I do. More than anything. But you're right, not for this."

Owen wrapped his arms around me, disregarding my fine gown and my carefully arranged hair and the feathers of my cape as he drew me to his chest and pressed a firm kiss to my lips.

"I love you, Mistress," he said.

I sighed, reaching up between us to cup his jaw and kiss him again. "I love you, my Chosen."

He squeezed me and headed for the door, and Cosmo quickly took his place, mouth against my ear and one hand cupping my throat.

"I was born for you, little muse," he whispered, and shivers ran through me at the ache in the words and his breath on my skin. "And you were born for this."

He kissed my cheek, and then I was alone in the room.

Stillness returned, but this time it was calm, the seconds ticking loudly by on a small clock on a window ledge.

Tick, tick, tick…

A heartbeat for each of my Chosen.

Tick, tick, tick…

One for each of the women of my line whom I'd conquered in my own way to gain the crown. My grandmother and her prejudice against me. My mother and her ignorance. Camellia and her greed.

And when the trumpets and the strings blared to life beyond the door, my heart hammered fastest and loudest in my ears. For Kimmery.

I'd rehearsed the ceremony so many times, I knew it by heart. I knew my route out of the antechamber up to the aisles between gallery seats, where the visiting nobles all stood watching somberly, likely remembering Camellia's attack on me just weeks ago. There were still flowers climbing the walls and violets bordering the stones of the floor.

My steps moved in time with the music, and time seemed slowed and warped, my mind a little too distant from my body. Feathers whispered behind me as I walked up to the dais, the voice of the two-natured urging me gently forward. My mother was there, her Chosen waiting behind her throne, a golden crown on her head, old and heavy and beautiful. The same crown that my ancestor had taken from the head of a king barely anyone remembered.

They'll remember me, I decided. Not for battles or for hardship, but for the golden age of Kimmery I'd been told I'd help create since I was a little girl. I would fashion it with my own hands if I had to. I would march through fields and plant seeds myself if that was what it took.

My mother rose from her seat, a soft smile on her lips, shoulders loose with relief. My Chosen were waiting in the wings to the side of the dais, watching, their eyes like pillars shoring me up. My mother's hand extended to me, and I dipped my head to kiss the back of it.

"Bryony of Kimmery, Daughter of the Queen's Line, why do you stand before me today?"

"To carry on the mantle of Queen of Kimmery," I said, surprised by the strength of my voice, the way it carried up to old wooden arches, bounced against dark stone.

"What is in your heart?" my mother asked.

"My love for Kimmery." The answers were my own, although I was sure I hadn't been the first woman to say something like them.

"What is in your hands?"

"The lives of my people."

"What is in your blood?"

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