Page 22 of Unmasked

I would not lose him. I couldn’t even think about it. I wouldn’t. But that became impossible as my eyes rose to the crown. It was the same one she had worn when she faced the public. And now it was on me.

Gold framed my head. The structure was delicate, but there was nothing soft about the slender lines rising in smooth curves. A diamond rested in the center, larger than the others. It demanded attention. Everything else seemed to exist around it. Gold curved outward from that single point, and subtle engravings lined the band. I moved in closer seeing the lion hidden in the etching.

History.

And now… it was mine.

But not as something to wear. It was something for me to grow into. To become.

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

Turning, I paused, grabbing the knob.

My shoulders drew up. My spine straightened. I lifted my chin, twisting and opening the barrier. For a moment, I couldn’t move. Not because I was afraid, but because Vaughn stood in the shadows at the back of the room, already watching me.

Walk.

The voice within demanded, and I obeyed, keeping my head high as I headed to the center of the room where the Judic were already in place, standing around the large, candlelit circle. The Magister was at the restrained slave’s feet, and I knew from the empty space, I was to stand above her head. Where I expected the dark-haired slave girl to be awake, she appeared asleep.

Taking my spot, I stepped onto the upside-down crown of the crest, above her head.

For a long moment, silence filled the space. Finally, the Magister spoke.

“It is not tradition for an Intended to stand within the Holy Night ritual. This place belongs to the queen.” He paused. “But The Judic sees promise in you. They believe… perhaps your sacrifice may be beneficial. Therefore, they have voted for you to spill the blood. To speak the words. …To influence our fortune to truth.

“Tonight, Penelope Taylor, you are queen. You will speak the words. You will spill the blood. You will understand your place. And you will feel her pain. Blood… for blood. Sacrifice… for rebirth. We start with the history. With words created from her, for you. You will remember these, but you will only read them out loud tonight.”

The Magister took a delicate, folded paper from his pocket, handing it to me. I swallowed hard, staring down at words that blurred together through tears.

“Out loud, Penelope.”

I nodded, taking in her handwriting before beginning to read her words out loud.

Before there was silence from death, there was a crown. It meant more than a castle. More than a throne. Our kings ruled by blood. By right and by name.

I stood beside my king. Never behind or beneath, but equal in his reign.

It was not equal to his sacrifice.

I glanced up to Vaughn, watching the emotion and candlelight flicker across his face. I looked back down, continuing.

He was not given power. He was born into it. But blood turned against blood. Not by the enemy, but by those who swore loyalty.

The Crown was stolen. The throne was taken. The king, my king… was silenced.

They called it justice.

They called it treason.

They called it truth.

They lied.

My throat tightened through the words at her pain.

A queen is not meant to survive her king…But I did. And a queen does not bow nor does she beg.

She never forgets.