Mum and Dad were next to exit. Two heralds outside the carriage draped velvet robes edged in white fur over each of their shoulders before fastening the clips at their necks. I watched with a lump in my throat as my parents made their way up the steps one last time as King and Queen of Wexstone.
“Hey,” Adelaide murmured as she moved to the opposite side of the carriage to face me. “You’ve got this. Go out there and become the best king this country has ever had.” She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, then allowed the footman to help her out of the carriage. My eyes followed her as she gracefully climbed the steps to the House of Lords, smiling and nodding at the cameras as she went. I knew she’d deny it until she was blue in the face, but I felt deep in my soul that she had been born for this.
And suddenly, it was just me. This was it; it was time to become the king of Wexstone—something I had never imagined for myself, yet here it was.
There was so much I hoped I could change for this country.My ancestors had loved and served Wexstone for so long, and for the most part, did their best to take care of its people. And I wanted to do that as well; it would just look a bit different than those before me.
The more I thought about it—and I had thought of little else since Xavier had abdicated—the more solace I found in being okay if members of my family or the nobility didn’t agree with my vision. Because in the end, the commonalty made up the majority of the people I served, and their voices and opinions and needs mattered.
There were two short knocks on the carriage door to let me know that they were ready for me whenever I was ready to go.
Butterflies took flight in my stomach. I wasn’t typically one to get nervous, but this was, so far,thebiggest moment of my life. Even my proposal to Adelaide a few days earlier hadn’t been quite this nerve wracking. But, after all, that had been fake and this was very, very real.
Here went nothing.
I rapped three times on the carriage door, and it opened. I stepped down onto the cobblestone walk and waited for the herald to wrap me a long fur-lined cloak that coordinated with the ones my parents wore. The heavy fabric wrapped me in warmth, and I was glad that I had worked on shoulders with Knox in the gym this past week, because it was heavier than it looked. Once he fastened the clip to hold the cloak in place, the herald bowed his head and stepped to the side.
After advancing to the base of the front steps, I waited for the four page boys to fix the train behind me before I slowly climbed the stairs. Once atop them, I stood in place as the trumpeter stationed in a second-floor window cued for everyone seated insideto rise.
I took one more deep breath before nodding to the doormen; I was ready. Well, as ready as I could be.
They opened the ornately carved doors to reveal the building’s expansive grand entryway, and I was met with over two hundred sets of eyes. All on me. But there was only one set I wanted to see at the end of the long red carpet that ran between the seemingly endless rows of seats. The eyes I longed to see were green and they always seemed to ground me. Without her, this moment couldn’t have become a reality.
As I made my way down the central aisle, I nodded as person after person bowed in reverence to me. Foreign leaders, celebrities, and ambassadors filled the space. But I couldn’t find the sea-green eyes that I craved until I got about halfway down.
There she is.
I met her gaze and held it. Adelaide had been more than just a university tutor or a suitor in this dumb competition for a wife. She had been a friend and someone who saw more than a rich royal, and that’s what my soul cried out for in that moment. I needed to hold her stare and remember that I was more than a sovereign: I was a person. Beyond all the pomp and circumstance, I was a man.
I stopped before the large dais set up outside the entrance to the Council’s main chambers and nodded to the six spiritual leaders who would be officiating the ceremony. Archbishop Rose, who stood in the middle of the six, raised her hands and motioned them down.
“You may be seated,” Rabbi Heller’s soft voice said.
“Thank you all for joining us on this momentous day for our country,” Reverend Biss welcomed.
“We are grateful to be here to officiate such a significant moment for our country. Thank you to theroyal family for welcoming us with open arms and making this transition peaceful and harmonious,” High Priestess Eze continued in their raspy voice.
“Father Tudor will open our service today with the benediction, and then the choir will sing while Crown Prince Oliver joins us on the dais. If you would all rise, if able, for the prayer,” Imam Bakir announced.
Everyone stood and Father Tudor began his prayer. I bowed my head along with the rest of the attendants.
Wexstone did not have an official religion, and my family didn’t believe that we were ordained by God to rule. No, we had been put into this position generations ago because the people believed in us and our way of leading. That was special and something we didn’t take for granted.
We encouraged religious tolerance and aimed to lead by example by including a variety of religious leaders in our royal ceremonies and incorporating additional religious practices when appropriate.
My great-grandfather, King Alfred II, had moved the crowning from the St. James Cathedral to the House of Lords so that one religion wouldn’t take precedence over the others. My father’s coronation was the first to incorporate a rabbi and imam, while mine was the first to include a naturalist religious leader. I hoped other world leaders were watching and taking notes. Everyone should be represented, and no one should feel better or higher than another.
As the national choir began to sing their hymn from the second-floor mezzanine, I took the two steps up onto the crowded dais and turned to face the audience.
The page boys again fixed the train of my ridiculously long cloak. I couldn’t wait to take the stupid thing off.
Maybe I should make it so that no one has to wear this again, or make a new, lighter one.
Shit, I need to focus and pay attention before I miss something important.
My eyes scanned the audience to find my beautiful anchor, Adelaide. Once she made eye contact with me, I couldn’t help but give her a swift wink. Heat flooded her cheeks and she narrowed her eyebrows at me, as if saying,Pay attention, you buffoon.
The choir finished and the officiants surrounded me in a semicircle. They would each take turns giving me a blessing, along with objects of various royal significance. Or, as Gram so eloquently put it, old shit.
