A few noblemen’s gazes lingered too long on Savina, and Ella rolled her eyes. Savina cut the chamber a glance sharper than any blade, and the entire court seemed to look elsewhere as if remembering who she was.
The hall braced, Orchid’s banners straining as though pulled by an unseen wind. Ella’s chest tightened. Reinforcements had arrived. Not only Jakobav, but every piece of him.
And now the court would see the truth: Dravaryn stood with her.
The chamber had barely steadied when Maeren stepped toward Jakobav, her voice pitched low. “The rest of the Guard was left on breach detail.”
Before Jakobav could respond, King Eryndor cleared his throat, the sound loud enough to still half the court. His brows rose a fraction. “Perhaps Dravaryn business can wait until after my daughter is crowned.”
A ripple of uneasy laughter stirred, breaking tension like glass.
Maeren inclined her head, poised as ever, but instead of retreating, she crossed to Ella. From her cloak, she drew a single black rose, its black-violet petals glimmering faintly. The chamber hushed as Maeren fastened the bloom against Ella’s gown. It sat against her chest, a stark bloom on white silk, Dravaryn’s mark in a hall of Orchid.
Maeren bent low, her voice meant for Ella alone. “You were meant to wear a crown,” she murmured. “I’m honored to witness it.”
Ella’s throat tightened, but before she found words, Maeren had already stepped back.
“Don’t trip on that gown,” Thane called cheerfully, his grin wicked as he moved across the throne room. “I would hate to catch you and make every Orchid girl fall for me instead.”
Several ladies tried to hide their smiles, while a few noblemen looked scandalized. Ella stifled a laugh of her own, heat rising traitorously to her cheeks.
Jakobav clenched his fist, his glare fixed on Thane, who only looked more delighted.
The ceremonial horns sounded, and the murmurs fell away like a curtain.
Ella stepped forward in her coronation whites, the silk catching the light and softening it, the gold-stitched sash curving over her ribs. Her hair had been delicately pinned, Marisol’s hands steady and Nira’s eyes bright.
The court watched her, their collective stare almost suffocating. Nerves stirred low in her stomach, bright and uneasy.
Jakobav took his place behind her, his tailored black coat transforming restraint into quiet ferocity.
Her father rose from the throne, his voice carrying without effort. “Let Orchid bear witness.”
The coronation ceremony began with old words, and Ella repeated them, each vow falling steady from her tongue. To guard the flame. To hold the river of this people. To stand between Orchid and all that would unmake it. To keep the Veil as law.
When she spoke the final vow, the sigil over her heart flared, bright as noon, glowing crimson and gold, no longer black.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, part fear and part awe. The court probably thought it was the ceremony—emotion,sanctity, the weight of the vow—stirring the royal Orchid mark on her chest.
But Ella knew better.
She knew what that glow meant. Something was coming.
Oh gods.
Her father lifted the crown.
The throne room held its silence.
He set it upon her head.
Ellandria stood in her coronation whites, crowned and unraveling, her sigil threatening to burn straight through her skin as she did all she could to hide the pain on her face. Throughout the chamber, nobles bent to their knees, a ripple of obedience moving like tidewater through silk. For the space of a single heartbeat, Orchid was whole.
Then the Veil tore.
44
THE VEIL BETWEEN THE REALMS
