“Is it too late?” I whisper.
“Nope, we will get you there in time. There is some pompous wordage beforehand. The questions about your resurrection can wait. We all recognize why they are falling apart, and we fear what will become of us if he’s crowned in anger, not love. The prevailing feeling when the crown first settles upon a king’s head dictates the tone of the rule. We just got rid of one ruler who suffocated our people; we don’t want another.”
We quicken our steps until we are outside the familiar doors of the great hall where I once both seduced the last king and slaughtered him.
“Are you ready?” the kind older man asks.
I straighten my spine and hold my head high. “Yes.”
He thumps his fist on the door, and it swings open. I step inside, and the hushed crowd turns to face me. They blink, some gasp, others tilt their heads like they’re trying to place me. But my gaze narrows on the throne on the raised dais, and the knight whom I love with all my heart sitting on it, ready to welcome in an era of coldness and anger at the Idols who set him on this path.
Hart jerks to his feet, and Malachi and Nash rush to his side. For a heartbeat, we stare. I want to wrap them in my arms and tell them I’ll never leave again, not in this life or the next, but we have a vast audience.
“What is the meaning of this?” a guy in a white robe and a huge pointy hat bellows. He holds the crown between his hands while glaring at me. “Lady of the Lake?”
Who? I look around. Oh, right. I shake my head. “Not anymore.”
Hart, Malachi, and Nash jerk back as if I’d slapped them. I brace myself to be surrounded by their love that will chase out the cold and strangeness lingering in my bones.
My sister steps in front of them and covers her mouth with both her hands, tears brimming in her eyes.
“It’s not her,” Hart snarls. “Take this imposter to the dungeon. I will deal with her myself after the coronation.”
What?
The old man who led me here raises his hands as guards rush toward us. “I believe this istheDaphne Stone.”
The?Wow, my death heightened my importance. Typical. No one appreciates you until you’re gone.
Gwyneth’s hands drop, and she squints as if she’s trying to work me out. “You’re my sister,” I snap. “You, at least, should recognize me.”
Everyone’s heads swivel between us as they wait. “Well?” Malachi snaps.
I blink. He never snaps.
“I’m uncertain,” Gwyneth whispers.
“You are too emotionally involved,” Hart snarls. “Take the imposter to the dungeons and put Miss Stone in the cell opposite so she does nothing stupid.”
A guard reaches for Gwyneth, and I barrel forward. “Don’t you dare touch my sister,” I growl. My feet slide on the polished marble floor, and my arms cartwheel, knocking a woman’s head—which promptly falls into my hands as I bounce on the floor. I blink at the mop of red hair between my hands.
“Did I behead someone?” I whisper. “Please tell me her head was loose, and it wasn’t my fault.” My eyes flick to my sister and the three knights. “And where is my dragon?”
“How would she know that?” Malachi mutters. I mean, the head is in my hands. It’s not difficult to work out.
Nash’s gaze narrows. He holds a hand up to the guy in the white robe who is creeping closer with the crown like he’s going to toss it onto Hart’s head while he’s not looking. “Merlin, wait.”
“Oh, hey. You’re Merlin? I met your original descendant. He’s stuck at the bottom of the ocean.”
“And how in the Blazes would she know that?” Gwyneth adds.
“Because, much to the disappointment of everyone here, but to the happy ears of Wonderland, I am indeed me.”
Hart’s lips thin as everyone waits for his command. I drop the head and climb to my feet while dusting off my hands. “There’s no blood, so I’m pretty sure she was pretending to be alive. Unlike me. I saved you from the dead chick doing whatever it is dead chicks do at coronations.”
“I’m becoming more and more convinced,” Nash says.
“You are the dead chick,” Malachi says.
