Page 140 of Pirate Witch
Amelia still wears a dress of mourning black in honour of her dead twin, but it’s covered by a cape of pure white fur. Blue jewels drip from her ears and wrists and more have been sewn into the fabrics of her clothes until she glimmers like a being from a different world.
The fanfare of the trumpets dies away, replaced with the softest flute chorus, as Amelia moves into the room properly. Her dress is so long she appears to float across the floor, and each row of guests bows low as she passes them.
When she finally reaches the throne, she catches my eye, then Elsie’s, and finally Reva’s. Her head dips forward in an incremental gesture of respect that none of us echo before she turns in place to stand in front of her throne.
Two pages scurry forward, carrying cushions which bear her ceremonial sword and crown, and Elsie and Reva take their places on either side of her.
“Do you, Amelia, solemnly swear to use your powers to defend humanity? To mete out justice with fairness and courage, and remain loyal to your people until you join your Ancestors in the Stars?” Reva asks, taking the sword in both hands.
Amelia nods. “I do.”
Reva smiles and hands her the sword. “Then the Moon Goddess blesses your reign.”
It’s Elsie’s turn next. The Solar lifts the crown from the cushion with a mature, thoughtful expression and holds it high.
“And do you, Amelia, solemnly swear to use your powers to bring order to your people? To govern with grace and wisdom, and heal the wounds caused by your predecessor?”
Amelia bows her head so that Elsie can slip the plain golden band over her head. “I do.”
“Then the Sun Goddess blesses your reign.” The Solar steps back, mirroring Reva on the opposite side of the throne.
Amelia takes a deep breath, stares down the room, and then lowers herself into the plush, gilded throne.
Trumpets blare again, louder this time, and Adella steps forward. She stamps her trident against the stone floor twice, the heavy thump carrying over the crowd.
Her voice is strong and clear as she announces: “All hail Her Royal Majesty, Queen Amelia of Galmere, Sovereign of the Isles, Goddess-Appointed ruler of all mortals. Well may she reign.”
I suppress a grimace as everyone else breaks out into thunderous applause. Amelia’s advisors insisted upon changing the traditional wording from ‘long’ to ‘well’ in an effort to put behind them the centuries of rule that the Eagle enjoyed, but it still sounds strange to the ear.
Nobody else cares, though. The air is full of hats, petals, and even a few shoes as people grab whatever they can and throw it into the air, cheering. Opal, still at my feet, lets out a little sneeze of disgust, and I smile, scooping her into my arms.
It’s hours later, well into the party, when the Queen corners me. The celebrations have spilled out onto the grounds and most of my men have already slipped away to finalise our supplies for the next leg of our journey.
So I’m alone, apart from Opal, when Amelia slips away from the crowd and finds her way to my side. I’ve taken a spot out atop the wall overlooking the bay. It’s quiet up here, and the guards posted around give me space, leaving me to stare at the Moon glowing in the sky.
“May I join you?” she asks.
I roll my eyes and turn to her. “I’m surprised you asked, Your Majesty.”
Amelia’s soft, sad smile and awkward little head tilt disarm me enough that I almost don’t notice Adella standing a respectful distance away.
“I see you’re keeping your bodyguard,” I comment.
“We’ve become good friends,” Amelia says. “We’re going to travel together once I’ve passed the crown to either Kyle or Ruby. She’s promised to show me Marisang.”
“That’s your plan, then?”
“Rebuild until they are old enough and then let the young take charge.” She nods decisively. “Yes. With the wraiths abandoning the land beyond the walls, we have a chance for expansion and peace. I’ll give my niece or nephew the best start I can, but I don’t want to rule. I don’t deserve to.”
Her answer surprises me, but it’s not an unwelcome development.
“My name will forever be tainted by the fact that I drank the Mortal Cure for decades,” Amelia mutters. “I was ignorant, but that does not make me innocent. The world deserves a fresh start. One that you have given us.”
I try to wave her off, but she shakes her head. “Don’t disparage yourself. Your task was to kill the Eagle. Not to end our war with the wraiths. Not to lead a battle, or to save the sirens from the brink of extinction, or to unseat a tyrant at the head of the council of mages.”
I shrug. “You make it out like I’m some saviour. Those things justhappened. I didn’t intend to do them.”
Amelia takes my hand. “Intended or not, the world owes you—”
