That’s what frightened her—to become some ideal that everyone rested their hopes and dreams on and ruining them by not living up to the impossible. But if she didn’t try, she’d leave the whole of Ashion to Daijal subjugation and the rest of the continent to invasion. She’d had a taste of such rulership growing up beneath a parliament beholden to the Daijal court and didn’t much care for it.
Nathaniel escorted her out of the bedroom and to the first floor of the estate. Meleri waited for them in the foyer, her summer gown worthy of being seen for a promenade along the Serpentine River in Amari. She smiled at their arrival, gesturing at the front door a servant opened. “Shall we?”
Caris nodded, and they left the estate for a black motor carriage that carried two tiny flags over the front headlamps. The colors weren’t the shades of the Auclair bloodline but of the Rourke bloodline, and Caris swallowed tightly. The trappings of royalty were slowly but subtly beginning to wrap themselves around her.
Nathaniel offered his hand to Meleri and helped her into the motor carriage, then did the same for Caris. Once they were in, he closed the door and went around the vehicle to take the front passenger seat. The motor carriages before and after theirs carried soldiers who wore a particular cut of uniform that Caris didn’t recognize.
“Are they with the army?” she asked as their driver started the engine.
“Their regiment is the Royal Guard of the Ashion army. They haven’t been active for twenty years. Eimarille has never had any need for them when she visited Amari. She tended to bring Daijalan soldiers for security and her own royal guards,” Meleri replied.
Caris clasped her hands together over her lap and stared out the window, watching the buildings glide by as they drove toward city hall. Far more people were out on the street than she anticipated, and the knot in her stomach got worse. Eventually, the crowd of spectators grew thicker, and their motorcade became the center of attention. People waved and pointed at them, delighted smiles on many of the faces they passed.
Meleri leaned across the seat, catching Caris’ attention. “Wave to them. Let them know you’re receptive to their well-wishes. They’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
“They don’t even know me.”
“But they will. You’ll show them who you are.”
So Caris waved, and she smiled, trying to feel like less of a puppet. The motorcade wound its way through the city streets until it finally entered the plaza in front of Veran’s city hall. The hands on the clock tower above the government building ticked their way to the top of the hour, the time when Caris was scheduled to give her speech.
A spectator stand had been erected in the plaza in front of a wooden stage. Five days was more than enough time for Meleri to find bunting in Rourke colors and have that bloodline’s heraldic flag hung between the pillars of the city hall’s entrance behind the stage. When she stood up there, Caris knew what she’d look like against that backdrop. Meleri was leaving nothing to chance. Cameras would capture Caris as she was meant to be seen.
A queen.
A pity she felt like a fraud.
The motorcade pulled up behind the stage, in a cordoned-off area guarded by soldiers and quite a few wardens, one of whom Caris recognized and was pleased to see.
“You made it back,” Caris said as her motor carriage door was opened and a soldier offered her his hand to help her out.
Ksenia smiled crookedly, feet planted wide and arms crossed over her chest. “I wasn’t ever going to stay in Foxborough. All our recalled wardens have been told to meet in Veran. It’s my responsibility to get them sorted, and besides, the governor wants us to study the death-defying machine you were recreating.”
“We’re happy to have you,” Meleri said as she came around the vehicle to stand by Caris’ side.
“You’d be one of the few. We’re not the most popular in Foxborough at the moment.”
“That city will come around.”
Ksenia grunted, offering no response to that statement. Nathaniel came to stand on Caris’ other side, a familiar presence she wished she could lean on. Instead, she looked to Meleri, who took charge in the way of one used to issuing commands and expecting to be obeyed. It was a trait Caris could only hope to emulate.
“We have magicians and marksmen set up around the plaza. Every reporter and spectator went through security and was checked for weapons and vivisection scars,” one of the Royal Guards said when Meleri turned toward him.
“Good. When the clock tower rings on the hour, I’ll introduce Caris,” Meleri said.
Until then, Caris and Nathaniel stayed behind the stage, out of sight of the cameras, and surrounded by soldiers and wardens. Caris made small talk with Ksenia, catching up with the master alchemist on what had transpired in Foxborough, getting a firsthand account of Blaine’s rescue.
“Honovi said the doctors and healers in Glencoe are doing everything they can to heal him,” Caris said in a low voice.
“I’m glad to hear that. His wound was severe but survivable,” Ksenia said.
“He lost part of his arm.”
“He’s alive. Loss of a limb isn’t a death sentence.” Ksenia tilted her head in Caris’ direction. “Perhaps you can help build him a new one.”
“Perhaps.”
Her dour thoughts were thrust aside as the clock tower chimed the hour. When the last note died away, Meleri’s voice came through a voice amplifier, ringing through the air as she greeted the crowd. Caris only half listened to the introduction, fighting a losing battle with her nerves until Nathaniel caught her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
