CHAPTER 28
Robert adjusted the heavy, gold-embroidered robe over Grace's shoulders, his fingers steady despite the tension in the room. He had served her long enough to sense when something was wrong. And tonight, something was very wrong.
"You've always wanted this, Prince Quicke." His voice was firm yet cautious. "I remember all the nights you'd call me, speaking of this exact moment. You'd go on and on about the coronation, about how much this meant to you. But tonight…" He hesitated, studying her reflection in the ornate mirror. "You don't look excited. You look unsettled. Almost as though you don't want this anymore."
Grace stared at her own reflection, her golden attire gleaming under the candlelight. Her expression was unreadable. She turned slightly, meeting Robert's gaze through the mirror.
"I want tonight as Prince Quicke," she murmured. "But have you ever wondered what Grace Johnson would want?" Her voice was quieter now, almost too soft to hear. "She would want peace."
A flicker of confusion passed over Robert's face. He took a step closer. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully. "Do you know where Grace Johnson is? The same Grace Johnson we've been searching for all this time?"
Grace exhaled, tilting her head slightly. "Didn't say that." A smirk ghosted her lips. "Think deeper, Robert. Not everything should be explained." Then, as if dismissing the subject entirely, she commanded, "Fetch my shoes."
Robert hesitated, glancing at her, then nodded. But as he retrieved the shoes, his mind spun. He had never been one to question Prince Quicke's cryptic remarks, but this was different. Something about the way she spoke unsettled him.
Before he could press further, Queen Judith entered the chamber.
"Leave us," she ordered, her voice calm but firm.
Robert bowed and stepped away, but as he exited, he cast one last glance at Grace.
The door closed behind him.
Queen Judith approached Grace, her regal presence as commanding as ever. Yet, tonight, her eyes softened.
"The long-awaited night is here," she said, placing her hands gently on Grace's shoulders. "Tonight, the kingdom welcomes its king. But to me…" Her voice dipped with emotion. "You have always been my king, Quicke. I know you will make the right decisions. I have no doubt you will rule with strength and wisdom."
Grace inhaled deeply, holding her mother's hands over her shoulders.
"Oh, Mother," she whispered, smiling faintly. "Your words are my shield. I love you."
Queen Judith's own smile was radiant, but it was quickly followed by a knowing sigh.
"I have seen you and Robert sneaking out of the kingdom," she said, her tone edged with warning. "I have noticed how secretive your conversations have become. What are you up to, Quicke? You know I know you too well."
Grace stiffened, masking her reaction. She couldn't let her mother suspect anything, especially not about Matthew Sterrn.
"It's kingdom matters, Mother," she said smoothly. "Some things are best handled without interference."
Judith studied her carefully. Then, after a long pause, she relented.
"I trust you, Quicke. But I will find out if you're straying from the right path." Her tone was gentle.
Grace held her gaze, offering a small, reassuring smile.
Queen Judith exhaled and took a step back. "By the way," she said, her eyes sweeping over Grace's attire. "You look stunning, my king. It's time to head out."
She lifted her chin slightly. "Remember, you have ruled long before tonight. The crown merely formalizes what was always meant to be. Walk with your head high."
Grace's lips parted slightly before she nodded.
"Understood, Mother." She extended her arm toward the door. "Shall we?"
The grand hall was a spectacle of power and tradition. Golden candlelight bathed the towering columns, casting flickering shadows over the richly adorned guests. Every noble in attendance was clad in regal black, their presence a silent testament to the strength of Alagascar.
At the front of the hall, King Charlenugo sat upon his throne, his expression unreadable. Moments later, Queen Judith took her place beside him.
Then, all eyes turned toward the entrance.
Grace stepped forward, holding Juliet's hand.
Juliet wore a flowing white gown, the unique color of a new queen in Alagascar. The way the fabric moved, the way her hair swayed, it was impossible not to notice her and as they walked, Grace could feel the weight of every gaze upon her.
The council executives sat at a round table before them, a ceremonial bowl filled with crimson liquid resting at the center.
Grace stepped forward as King Charlenugo descended from his throne.
Removing his crown, he stood before Grace, his voice deep and unwavering.
"From generation to generation, our ancestors have passed down the crown while still alive. This signifies life, a crown bestowed without death." His gaze was piercing. "You have proven yourself worthy, and for that, Alagascar is blessed to have you as his ruler."
A solemn pause. Then, his next words struck deep.
"As you take this crown, you shall not betroth another wife. You shall not wear red. And you shall not step beyond the borders of Alagascar ever again, unless it is time to pass the crown to your son."
Grace felt her breath hitch.
I do not step out of the kingdom ever again… unless it is time to pass the crown?
Her thoughts swirled in silent protest.
"Prince Quicke!" King Charlenugo's voice rang through the hall, snapping her back to the moment.
She inhaled sharply, steadying herself.
"I agree," she said, her voice firm.
Queen Judith stepped forward, turning to Juliet.
"You shall not bear a second child. One heir is enough. Do you agree?"
Without hesitation, Juliet answered, "I agree."
Their faces hovered over the ceremonial bowl. The crimson liquid rippled as their reflections stared back at them, mirrored yet distorted. Then, with a final breath, they were plunged into the depths, the kingdom held its breath.
And the moment the crown was placed upon Grace's head, a shift occurred.
A surge of energy pulsed through the hall, thick and undeniable. The air grew charged, the very foundation of the kingdom seeming to tremble.
Grace rose. Not stepped, not ascended, she floated.
Gasps erupted from the nobles. Never before had such a thing happened. The ancestors had passed down the throne for generations, but never had a king or queen defied the very laws of nature upon their coronation.
Grace hovered above them all, her robes flowing, her presence otherworldly.
For a moment, she simply remained suspended, as if caught between two realms.
The silence was deafening.