Page 71 of The Prince and the Puck
To the great surprise of most of those in the kingdom, a coronation date was announced. As it was only two days away, the kingdom became a ruckus of preparation and speculation.
I’d stayed with Mom, letting Declan spend time with his family in the lead up to taking his position. He would become king, and I thought I would probably ask Stephanie for an assignment as far away from Murdan as I could get. I could think of no better way to forget that I hadn’t gotten what I wanted than to escape.
But my mother’s words, and Joey’s rang in my ears. I needed to at least tell him how I felt. Then I’d know we really didn’t have a chance. If I didn’t try, I’d always wonder.
When I texted Declan to ask if he could meet me, he agreed, and he was at my door fifteen minutes later.
“Walk a bit?” I suggested, and he smiled, taking my hand in his.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, leaning in and nuzzling my ear, sending a wave of warmth through me.
“I wanted to give you some space. I know there’s a lot going on.”
He squeezed my hand, and we headed for the beach. Declan and I walked hand in hand along the shore, the waves creating a rolling soundtrack to accompany my racing heart. We talked about everything and nothing, but the one thing I really needed to say remained unsaid.
"Declan," I finally said, mustering the courage to tell him once and for all how I felt. He turned to face me, that wide smilein place—the one I loved so much. Declan had seemed happy here, though I knew he missed playing hockey.
"I was hoping we could talk a little bit," I said, hesitating as I faced him, the ocean painting a brilliant blue backdrop behind us.
Declan squeezed my hand and laughed. "Lizzy, we’ve been talking since we got here. I think you know everything there is to know about me by now."
"Right," I said. "But I guess I was hoping we could talk about what happens next."
"The coronation, you mean," Declan said, nodding.
"Right. And other things."
I was about to just lay it out there when Lambert trotted up, red-faced and breathing hard, as if he’d sprinted to find us. “Deck, you need to come home. It’s about Dad."
Declan looked at me, worry etched in every line of his face.
"This can wait," I told him.
Declan and Lambert dashed off across the sand, leaving me to contemplate the words I had been about to say.
I texted Declan later that night, asking if everything was okay.
He responded with:
Yes, everything is great. I’ll update you as soon as I can — Mom wants to spend some time as a family, but all is well.
It didn’t tell me what I wanted to know at all, but it sounded like the king was okay. For the moment, at least.
The day of the coronation arrived.
I found I didn’t want to go. But I had to.
I had been appointed to stand with the queen and king, keeping an eye on the crowd. For me, that was a little closer than I wanted to be to watching the man I loved take on a responsibility that would mean we could likely never be what I wanted us to be. I hadn’t found a chance to speak to him, and he hadn’t sought me out. Preparations for the coronation had been all-consuming, even in the Guards’ office.
That morning, I worked with the other agents to double-check the security of the enormous hall where the coronation would be held. Given that it was inside the palace proper, security had been tight to begin with, but it was doubly so for this momentous event.
The people of Murdan had been told little beyond the fact that King Erik planned to abdicate the throne and that one of his sons would be taking his place. In recent years, the assumption had been that Lambert would be crowned, but with Declan’s reappearance, there was quite a bit of whispered discussion about who Murdan’s next ruler would be.
My heart was heavy as I checked aisles and seats, ensuring that everything was as it should be.
At the appointed hour, the coronation hall was completely full of citizens, with more clustered in the streets outside the palace gates. Murdan guards and soldiers lined the sides of the great hall, standing at attention in their ceremonial uniforms. Their polished swords gleamed under the golden light cast by the immense chandeliers. At the front of the enormous hall stood a raised platform, upon which sat two thrones—rightfully fit for a king and queen.
I met the royals as they entered from a side door into the small chamber at the back of the hall. When the trumpets began to play the Murdan anthem, I walked behind the king and queen, keeping my eyes on the crowd to ensure their safety. Hand in hand, King Erik and Queen Penelope strode confidently—but slowly—toward the front of the hall. The anthem swelled, the banners overhead swaying gently from the high rafters. The rich, deep blue of Murdan’s flag, embroidered with gold, filled every corner of my vision.
