Masked (Royally Hot 2)

Giles nodded his approval and told the man to wait until the appropriate moment. When he was asked what moment that was, Giles merely smiled enigmatically and said it would be obvious.

The mood in the room shifted as the servants stepped back. Preparations done; time for the big fucking finale. Outside, on the terrace, the sound of drums began, low and ominous, and the chatter of the crowd quietened to a dull murmur. Giles turned my way and fixed me with a glint in his eye.

“Ready?”

I nodded. “Ready.”

The doors to the terrace swung open and I finally saw the crowd but I just wanted this fucking thing overwith so I could get back to Iris. There were thousands gathered. People spilled from every alleyway and balcony surrounding the coronation square. The drums continued on, increasing in speed and intensity as we stepped out into the open air.

Lord Aaron stepped forward in front of me and raised his arms for quiet. I’m not sure how such a thin, ordinarily quiet-spoken man commanded such presence, but there was instant silence. He didn’t even need to raise his voice to be heard, the natural acoustics amplifying every word.

“My lords and ladies, my men and women, my people. We are here today for what is a momentous event. I have some sad news. The king is dead.”

He paused, and in the silence a bass drum began beating slowly, a dirge for the man I’d never loved, but a man, nonetheless, who had been the ruler of Aramoor for most people’s entire lives. Did they love him? No. But they respected his right to rule. Now Giles had to convince them of mine.

“Sad news indeed,” he went on, and the drumbeat ended. “But there is hope. The king’s son, who has been battling dangers most of you cannot even imagine, is here. He is ready to take up his father’s crown. It is by his effort that we have had peace for so long, and by his continued effort, and by God’s grace, we will have peace for many years to come.”

He turned, and I stepped out from the shelter of the waiting room, in front of the crowd. It dawned on me as I heard gasps all around, that this was the last moment. After this, I would no longer be who I had always been. I would be king. And there was no backing out.

The gasps may have been horror, or simply surprise, I have no idea. All I do know is that when Giles bowed before me, showing deference to the king, a low murmur began to ripple through the crowd.

“Long live the king,” Giles intoned, and as I looked at the shadow creeping over his back, I realized what the murmur was about.

Turning, I saw the sun darkening, blotted out in the daytime sky. As did everyone in the crowd, I shaded my eyes and watched as the shadow passed over. I heard words of astonishment, murmurs of omens and signs, and then realized Giles was standing right beside me.

“Long live the king,” he muttered with a grin, and unceremoniously put the crown on my head.

“You did this?”

He raised one eyebrow, then turned to the crowd. “God has spoken,” he said, his voice booming, somehow louder than it should have been. It echoed from every corner of the courtyard. “King Randal’s divine right to rule is confirmed.”

I almost laughed, but I would have been the only one. The chant seemed to begin spontaneously from every section of the crowd. Randal, Randal, Randal. There was cheering and laughter, as if today was a day of great celebration, as if we’d just overcome some great evil.

Even I began to believe in myself.

But then, as the sun came back out, to my left I saw a cluster of people enter the chamber where we had been just minutes ago. There was a swoosh of dark fabric, a glittering shimmer of black pearls, and I saw her. Fucking Patara. That bitch was here after all.

And she wasn’t alone.

Iris.

Iris was with her.

She blinked hard in the suddenly-reappearing sunshine, her clothes filthy and wet, her hair a disheveled mess. Next to Patara stood two guards. One, I didn’t recognize, but the other was her chief bodyguard, who had one arm around Iris, using her as a human shield.

And the tip of his dagger was digging into her waist.

Chapter 20

Iris

I was about to die.

I was sure of it. One false move and the dagger at my waist would plunge upward under my ribcage, straight into my heart.

It will be quick. At least it will be quick.

I saw Randal, standing out in the sunlight, an expression of pure rage on his face as he stared at my captors. I also saw the crown on his head, and heard the chanting of the crowd. It all seemed unreal.