No. No, that couldn’t be it. It can’t be the end.
Vesper whispered, “All right, we’re here…” He tilted his head toward the door, whiskers twitching. “Now what?”
“We can’t just barge in,” Thistle murmured, voice trembling.
“We’re already dead,” Vesper muttered. “Might as well make it memorable.”
Branrir’s brow furrowed, eyes darting from the doors to the nearby servants' hallway, determining our entry options.
I gripped the lute tighter. I’d been so consumed with getting out of the dungeons that I hadn’t let myself think beyond this threshold. I hadn’t let myself imagine what I would see when those doors opened. What I would do if I were too late.
Saints, please. Let me get to her before the words are spoken.
47
QUINN
Iscarcely noticed the officiant until his voice rose. “As the Grand Vizier to His Royal Highness, I, Paschar Anen, am overwhelmed with joy on this…”
His words blended together as my heart pounded.
“…blessed day…divine union…symbol of peace…”
This day was neither divine nor peaceful. It most certainly did not feel blessed. The droning continued until the officiant reached the portion of the ceremony for exchanging vows.
“Do you, His Majesty King Edric Valebryn Renaudin, Eternal Ruler of Avandria, Bearer of the Time Crown, Guardian of the Elderhollow Forest, Saint-Anointed Sovereign of the Ninefold Line…”
It took every remaining bit of restraint not to roll my eyes.
“…First of His Name, Warden of the Golden Throne, Lord of the Lion…”
We would reach midnight before the grand vizier finished listing the king’s plethora of titles.
“…take Lady Quinnève Isadora Elibethrine Liogenoriggia to beyour lawfully wedded wife, and through this marriage and subsequent coronation, the reigning queen of Avandria?”
“I do,” Edric said, voice rich with counterfeit tenderness. His smile widened as his words drew approving ‘aw’ sounds from the spectators.
Edric took the smaller ring from a tiny pillow upon the altar with theatrical grace and lifted my left hand. The ring scraped my knuckle as he forced it on. The crowd sighed, drunk on the illusion of nonexistent romance. I stared at the ring, a sparkling shackle, a symbol of my imprisonment.
The officiant turned to me. “Lady Quinnève Isadora Elibethrine Liogenoriggia, do you take His Majesty…”
Is he truly going to recite every title once more?
“King Edric Valebryn Renaudin…”
Ah, it appears he is.
“Eternal Ruler of Avandria…”
Only because his mother used her Time gift.
“Bearer of the Time Crown…”
There is no such thing.
“Guardian of the Elderhollow Forest…”
The only thing he is a guardian over is his own self-interest.
