I breathed in, scanning my eyes across the crowd, trying to take in all the faces. Tears ran steadily down my mother’s face, and Gram handed her a small hanky. My father’s chest puffed, the pride he had voiced earlier evident in the way he held himself. When my eyes fell on Knox’s, he gave me a smile and look that I translated in our secret unspoken language:You’ve got this, brother.
I made sure I locked every moment into my memory. This was something I was going to want to look back on for years to come.
I found Adelaide again; she was holding Birdie’s hand. Tears shone in her eyes, and I couldn’t help but hope that it was because she was proud, too.
Before I could dwell on that thought, High Priestess Eze stepped in front of me and handed me a golden sphere with ruby and sapphire gems lining its circumference.
“We, the country of Wexstone, give you this sphere to signify our land and the things she produces. Oliver Remington Courtwright, we give you blessings from the land; may you nourish her and in return may she grow abundantly. May you never take more than you need. When in doubt, let her wind guide you and the earth feed you. Whenyou are not sure where to start, turn east and know that’s where life starts. When you need rest, turn west because that’s where the night is. When you need strength, turn north, and when you need guidance, turn south, for Mother will always meet you there. Blessings from us, King Oliver.”
High Priestess Eze bowed their head and took the sphere back. Energy rolled through my body, and I was filled with unexpected peace as Imam Bakir stepped up next and handed me a jewel-encrusted sword.
“As you take this sword, let it symbolize taking up a stance to defend the weak of our country. To fight for what is right, true, and just.” He stepped forward and put his hand on my shoulder. “On the momentous occasion of this coronation, we pray that King Oliver be granted profound wisdom, an indomitable spirit, and the strength to serve all people with grace, equity, and justice.
“May the Sovereign Lord guide King Oliver to offer extraordinary public service earnestly and selflessly throughout his reign.” He dipped his head in a bow and took the sword to place it back on a small table to my right.
Reverend Biss and Father Tudor stepped in front of me, both bowing their heads.
“May I have your left hand, Your Majesty?” Father Tudor asked.
I lifted my hand and placed it into his. Reverend Biss held a ring with a large emerald surrounded by diamonds. He slid the ring onto my finger, and they both held my hand in theirs.
“King Oliver Remington Courtwright. Today you vow to love and care for this country as a husband would a bride. To provide for her, love her, and keep her safe. We offer blessings of prosperity, health, and emotional wellness.”
The ring was heavy on my finger, and I couldn’t help but glance at Adelaide. I could easily imagine what it would be like to wear a ring from her. It would be easy to love her, and I wondered if she could let me. Could we put everything behind us and start fresh? We both had our faults and had fallen short before, but could we rekindle what I knew was there all those year ago and turn this fake relationship into something real?
Rabbi Heller approached the table and picked up the ornate crown worn by those who came before me. Stopping in front of me, she cleared her throat. I met her eyes and smiled.
“King Oliver Remington Courtwright, as I place this crown onto your head, we call upon Hashem, the Eternal One, the Holy Source of all wisdom and strength.
“Almighty God, by your grace, kings reign and princes rule. Their glory and majesty rest in Your hands. You, the One who chose David, the shepherd of Bethlehem, to lead with courage and compassion, You have placed King Oliver on the throne of his ancestors. He rules over the kingdom of Wexstone, a land which symbolizes freedom, loving-kindness, and a connection to the earth of Your creation.
“Just as You set a crown of human royalty upon his head, so may You crown him with glory and anoint him with the oil of gladness. May he lead not with pride, but with humility; not with fear, but with faith. May justice be the foundation of his reign, and righteousness its crown. May his heart remain open to counsel, his ears attentive to the cry of the vulnerable, and his hands ever ready to build and to heal. May You, the Holy One, bless him, guard him, and shine light upon him. May You, the Holy One, lift up the Divine Presence toward our new King Oliver—and grant him peace and glory in his reign. On his days and in ours, may our Heavenly Father spread the tabernacle of peace over all the dwellers ofWexstone and on the earth; and let us all together say Amen.”
“Amen,” we all intoned.
Chills ran down my spine; I felt as if I was having an out-of-body experience. It was unreal to have my father’s crown upon my head, the ring on my finger, and the cloak on my shoulders. It all felt very heavy, in every sense of the word.
Archbishop Rose bowed in front of me and then stepped forward, handing me the royal scepter. The gold and jewels reflected the sunlight streaming in through the stained-glass windows in a beautiful, sparkling rainbow.
“Oliver Remington Courtwright, as you take this scepter and wear the royal ring and crown, you are agreeing that you will reign fairly and justly. As you stand here on this dais in front of God, Mother Earth, your family, and country, do you agree to the position of Sovereign of this free nation?” Archbishop Rose asked.
“I, Oliver Remington Courtwright, accept the authority and the sovereignty as King of Wexstone.”
“Many have come before you and many will come after you, but none will be you,” she confirmed.
She placed some type of oil onto my forehead and both of my shoulders, then stepped back into the half-moon of spiritual leaders. They all stomped their feet four times.
“Long may he reign!” all six officiants called out simultaneously.
“Long may he reign!” came the reply.
The trumpeters blew their instruments, and everyone rose again, hands clapping. I heard someone give a “woo” and knew it had to be Birdie.
I took in the moment one last time, putting it to memory, and again found those green eyes that anchored me.
I sighed deeply. “I begged the stylist to let me reuse my green dress from the garden party, but apparently it wasn’t, and I quote, ‘befitting of a future queen to reuse a dress.’” I rolled my eyes as I checked my makeup in the powder-room mirror back at the palace.
I wasn’t the future queen. I was still a girl with a budget spreadsheet, and it was hard for me to accept that money—even if it wasn’t my own—had been spent on an outfit I would wear for one day. But Queen Isobel insisted on this beautiful sapphire blue dress for the ceremony, since I would be changing into an emerald gown later to coordinate with Oliver’s sash for the coronation dinner that evening. And who was I to argue with her? Shewasthe queen. Or at least, she had been up until about an hour ago.
