Jewel in the Crown - Valentine's Special

The gasping of the maids is what wakes us. I roll over, blinking, and then reality hits me.

Yanking the covers, I quickly conceal both our naked bodies. Kaldan is still lying there, on his front, spread-eagled.

“Wake up,” I say, nudging him.

He groans before rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s past eight, your Highness,” one of the maids says.

Kaldan frowns as if he’s only just realized we’re not alone, and then he rolls over, looking at them before his gaze fixes on me.

“Are you ready, my queen?” he asks.

“I think that depends on what you’re asking,” I say.

He smirks. “There isn’t time for that,” he replies, as if all I want right now is for him to fuck me. Though I think that would definitely ease my nerves.

“Kaldan.”

He gets up, throwing the covers off, and the maids turn bright red as he walks across the room, completely naked, not a bit ashamed.

“Kaldan,” I say more forcefully.

“What?” he replies.

“You cannot simply walk through this castle with nothing on.”

He tilts his head. “Is that a challenge?”

My jaw drops. I don’t even know how to reply.

“This is my castle, and I can do what I like,” he states.

“With the entire Council here?”

He grins. “Especially with them here. I will see you in the Great Hall, my queen,” he says before continuing on out the door, shutting it behind him.

I sit there, dumbfounded. He actually did it. The crazy bastard is right now walking down two flights of stairs, all the way back to the royal suite. Completely and utterly naked.

“Your Highness,” one of the maids says, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I nod, getting up. I let them quickly bathe and then dress me before doing my hair.

While I’m sitting there, I wish I had time to see my son, to sneak into his room and check on him, but I know he is safe. Kaldan will have made sure of it.

I had a special dress made. It’s woven with tiny gold embroidery, and as I put it on, I feel every inch the queen Kaldan names me as.

“You look beautiful, your Highness,” one of the maids says, and I murmur my thanks.

Though I slept better than I could have hoped because of Kaldan’s presence, my stomach is like a jar of butterflies.

“They’re ready,” the guard says, poking his head around the door.

I nod, bracing myself for this moment that I’ve been circling now for so long.

As I make my way slowly down the staircase, my two maids follow.

Ahead, I can see all the servants, all the guards, everyone not officially invited to the ceremony watching as I walk past. I make a point of greeting them, of showing them that today is about them too, that it’s about all of us.

When I get to the Great Hall, I wait outside the huge wooden doors. I can hear the murmuring inside. I can sense the power of every king and every warlord and every queen beyond.

I clench my fists, driving my nails into my palms. I hate that I’m nervous. I hate that I still don’t feel like I’m worthy of this.

It’s still so hard sometimes to not revert back to that scared person I was before. To not let all my fear, my trauma, and all the horrific brainwashing of my brother taint these moments.

In so many ways, I am free. I am free from the horror, free to live my life as I choose. Since Kaldan killed Luxley, and our son was born, our relationship has changed.

And in many ways, both of us have. We are not so possessive. We are not as toxic as we were. We both trust each other now. We no longer keep secrets, hide our feelings, or deliberately hurt one another to score points.

No, in so many ways, we really are equals.

The trumpets blast. I jump as they ring out loudly around me.

And then those great wooden doors open, and I look beyond, seeing everyone standing, everyone waiting for me.

But my eyes don’t focus on them.

I look ahead. I look past them.

I look at the man right at the very end.

The warlord who made himself into a king, the man who fell in love with a heartbroken girl under an apple tree, the man who murdered her father and rescued her long before she realized she needed rescuing.

“Kaldan,” I murmur his name, no longer hating the way it sounds, no longer fearing all those emotions that used to twist inside.

I am no longer a traitor. I am no longer a whore.

In fact, as I slowly make my steps past the thousands of faces, I realize I never was. That even that was a lie.

When I reach the front, Kaldan is smiling at me, and I can feel the way he’s melding the air, the pride he feels, the love too.

“My queen,” he murmurs.

I drop him a deep curtsey. “My king.”

He takes my hand, leading me to sit on the massive throne facing everyone. I make sure to keep my head high, to meet each of those gazes, just as Kaldan has instructed me to.

He wants me to be his fierce queen; those were his words, and I’ve never wanted to make him more proud than in this moment.

King Helos steps up to me. He hands me a scepter, which I take in my right hand, and a great golden orb, which I’m so careful not to drop, is balanced in my left.

They’re symbols of our power. Symbols of our right to rule.

In so many ways, the regalia is nonsense because they belonged to my family, not Kaldan’s. My father was coronated with these. As was his before. And his before that.

And yet my father was usurped. He was overthrown.

But I understand the need, the symbolism of it.

Now that my bloodline is united with Kaldan’s, we need to reinstate these traditions.

It’s a way we can give reassurance and comfort to our people. To signify that we will, as their rulers, take care of them and ensure that we are all prosperous together.

A man from the Council steps forward. He’s chanting words from the Old Tongue. Words that hardly any of us understand. But, as those strange syllables echo around us, my hair stands, and I feel goosebumps on my skin.

Every king, every queen, every ruler from the beginning of time has sat where I have, upon a throne, holding a scepter and an orb before they were given total and complete power of their people.

I let out a low breath, trying to steady the swirling emotion inside me.

I can’t help thinking back to Emet’s coronation. The fake one he held while we were fleeing for our lives. It felt so cheap, so silly compared to this.

He didn’t have the scepter; he didn’t have the orb. About him hung quickly sewn tapestries depicting all the old houses that supported us and those that no longer existed.

He sat on a makeshift throne, half the size and splendor of the one I am currently on, and the crown they placed upon his head was so shiny. Too shiny. Everyone could see it was newly made.

I fight the smirk at that. He’d wanted to wear the crown that Kaldan stole from him, the one that Kaldan locked away.

Helos moves in front of me. I blink, looking up at him, as my thoughts come back to where I am. He gives me a small smile that no one else can see, and then, he anoints my head with oil.

I can feel the sticky substance on my forehead. It’s hard not to wipe it off. He places a golden crown upon my head. It’s heavier than the one Kaldan gifted me yesterday, but I like the fact that it is.

It gives me something to focus on. Something to distract me and keep me grounded in this moment.

Kaldan walks to the front. “Bow to my queen,” he orders as his eyes flash.

I gulp at the words, but they do it. Everyone does it. They all stand and then get on their knees before me.

“Long live the queen,” King Helos says loudly.

“Long live the queen,” the crowd repeats. The echo reverberates around me as my eyes find Kaldan’s.

He’s smiling, and I can feel it, the way he’s melding the air, the way he’s ensuring everyone in this room can feel his pride in this moment.

“Long live my queen,” he says loud enough for me to hear over the pounding of my own heart.

He holds his hand out. I take it, allowing him to help me from the throne, and we walk past the thousands of people in this room.

He leads me through the castle to a great balcony built beyond the windows of the Banqueting Hall.

As we step outside, a cheer goes up so loudly that it’s deafening.

They’re chanting our names. Both of ours. Together.

I turn, looking at my husband, and smile.

He raises my hand, still clasped in his, and the crowd falls silent.

“Today marks a new rule. Today, you have a king and a queen, united.”

The crowd screams again. Petals seem to float in the air around us.

“King Kaldan. Queen Arbella.”

They say the words over and over.

I turn to Kaldan, the man I once feared so much. “I love you,” I say.

“I love you,” he replies.

And before he can stop me, I kiss him. I kiss him for everyone to see, for everyone to witness. The crowd cheers more, confetti pours down over us, and we break apart, smiling at one another.

“My perfect queen,” he says.

“My perfect king,” I reply.

His arms wrap around me, encasing me with all the warmth and safety of his love.

—The End—