“The ceremony begins in thirty minutes,” he says. “Miss Liora will arrive shortly to escort you to the holding chamber.”
“Thank you.”
He bows again and leaves, carrying the crown that will soon mark me as ruler of the solar system. I’m alone again in the preparation chamber, but I feel different. Calmer. More centred.
Lucien’s touch still lingers on my skin. His words echo in my mind:You’ve already proven you’re worthy.
I look at myself in the mirror again. The golden gown, the elaborate hair, the painted face … playing into the optics of becoming Queen so that, once installed, I can make real changes to this system. I can make things better. I have to.
A soft knock announces Mother’s arrival before she enters.
She’s dressed in formal robes of silver and midnight blue – the traditional colours of Daughters of the Moon. Her hair is woven with silver thread, and the crescent moon sigil gleams at her throat. She looks regal and ancient and utterly beautiful.
But I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands clasp together too tightly.
“Little moon,” she says softly, taking in my appearance. “You look like starlight.”
“You’ve said that before,” I murmur, remembering childhood nights when she’d tuck me in, calling me her little moon made of starlight.
“It’s still true.” She crosses to me, adjusting my train. “Are you ready?”
“No,” I admit. “But I don’t think anyone’s ever ready for this.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. There’s something fragile in her expression, something that makes my stomach tighten with unease.
“Mother—”
“We should go,” she interrupts gently. “Everyone is waiting.”
She offers me her arm. I take it, feeling how her fingers tremble slightly against my sleeve.
We walk through the corridors in silence, my golden train flowing behind us. The stone walls are decorated with ceremonial banners bearing House symbols, and guards stand at attention as we pass.
The sounds grow louder as we approach – thousands of voices murmuring, the rustle of formal robes, footsteps echoing off ancient stone. We reach the doors to the holding chamber and Mother pauses, her hand still on my arm.
“Cyra,” she says quietly. “There’s something I need?—”
But a Cardinal appears, bowing formally.
“Your Majesty. Miss Liora. The holding chamber is prepared.”
Mother’s jaw clenches, but she nods. We follow the Cardinal into a holding chamber, the doors closing behind us with a heavy thud.
The holding chamber feels sacred somehow, decorated in white and silver tapestries that shimmer in the candlelight. Fresh flowers fill the air with delicate fragrance – lilies and jasmine. Through the thick wooden doors, I can hear the gathering crowd beyond, thousands of voices blending into a symphony of anticipation.
“Representatives from Neptune have arrived,” a voice says as footsteps pass outside.
“The Mercury delegation is requesting reserved seating for their communication equipment...”
“Has anyone seen the Jupiter honour guard?”
The sounds create a cacophony of importance and ceremony. The entire solar system, gathered in one place to witness history.
Mother stands near the tapestried wall, her silver and midnight blue robes catching the candlelight. Her hands clasp together, knuckles white, and there’s something in her expression I’ve never seen before.
Pride.
Overwhelming, almost desperatepride.
