“Are you sure about this?”

Kinjo’s frown reflected in the mirror. Seeing herself with silver hair was surreal, but she accepted it. Or maybe she just didn’t have anything to consistently remind her of what it meant.

Seiko nodded and tried to offer a little smile.

“They need to hear the full story. I don’t think the rebels intend to continue fighting, but I want to give them the option.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced. She turned around to give him a light kiss on the cheek.

“I’ve had a week. I know what to do.”

He searched her expression for any signs of a lie or hesitance, then conceded and managed a smile back.

“All right. I trust you.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to me that you’re still here.”

Kinjo’s smile shifted to a bit more pride and admiration.

“I’m not going to leave you,” he promised. “Especially not after this long.”

…

Seiko didn’t hold herself any differently than she would have otherwise; if she did, they might not recognize her. The entire world seemed to fall silent this past week—the voices, the palace, everything. She felt better than she had in years.

She never expected the role of queen, but for the sake of ending the war she would take it. She knew Lady Aimiki wouldn’t have given her the silver hair if she wasn’t worthy of it.

If nothing else, having a queen that knew almost nothing about ruling is better than fighting a war and people dying. She wanted to protect those that managed to survive, and this was the best way of doing that.

Kinjo walked with her to the city, the new year officially started and snow dusted the ground. Neither one had any weapons, but Kinjo carried a few important letters and documents in case they asked for proof.

Everyone they passed paused, then curiously trailed behind—those that didn’t went into their houses to alert their family. The mysterious chosen heir had finally made an appearance.

Seiko stopped in the largest open area, then addressed the small crowd.

“One year and eight months have passed since King Gin-Betemo Tsunkei died,” she began. She caught their attention. “Once the sakura falls, two years would have passed without a ruler. That changed when soldiers attacked the palace eight days ago.”

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The voices would likely mock her speech, but so far the citizens seemed satisfied. They kept a respectful distance and remained silent, at least.

“Lady Aimiki saw the bloodshed and wanted to end it. She chose me to lead this kingdom, but first and foremost I want to clear all uncertainty. Many things were said these past few months, and today I will reveal everything.”

She took a little breath, then explained every single scandal and important incident that she found records of in the palace.

King Tsunkei had a few associated with him, starting with his deals with Kuru. His intentions were primarily to negotiate a long term ceasefire, but he kept it secret. Miss Shiharu came back with him on one of his trips to the far west; she had some Kuro blood in her, hidden so her children wouldn’t be scorned.

Seiko had a harder time with the rest. Maenomi said she could reveal her relationship with Tekazu Hafumi; she tried not to hesitate to show evenness. She still emphasized Lady Hyomoto’s role instead—how Maenomi’s own mother spitefully told the city that Tekazu was insane, forcing her to leave. The crowd was more disgusted at Lady Hyomoto’s attitude than they were Maenomi’s love.

She used Lady Hyomoto’s gossip tendencies to lead into her own story. The worst part of this was that she had to admit Mikka died—without Seiko ever knowing, only reinforcing the fear that she would be alone and making her even more grateful to be alive with some kind of family. Seiko shared what Lord Gin wrote down in his confession, then her own view of the events and her life thereafter.

The only thing Seiko didn’t tell them was her part in Miss Shiharu’s murder—she couldn’t explain it without making herself sound unstable—and that Maenomi still lived.

Seiko looked around to gauge the crowd’s mood before continuing. Not one of them seemed distracted, although there was a mix in expressions—some joy, some fear, some anger, some uncertainty. If she could dispel that—give them reassurance—then she would want nothing more.

“Many of you know me as Tsujihara Seiko—a helpful, if sometimes dense or awkward, young woman. I have a unique connection to not just this city and the royal family, but to everyone gathered here. I’ve lived through and personally seen things that no other ruler has—social struggles, poverty, illness—and I truly believe I can use that experience to better the kingdom.”

Slowly and humbly, she knelt down on the ground. The snow chilled her hands and legs.

“I bow now, not just to the gods, but to all of you. If you would have me, I’ll be honored to guide this nation to recovery.”

She waited. Shuffling meant that Kinjo bowed as well, silently making the same vow.

After a minute or two, someone clapped. A few more joined, then more, until it grew into thunderous applause. Only a moment later, they gave verbal consent.

“Long live Queen Gin-Tsujihara Seiko!”

She let out a relieved sigh and stood, giving all of the gathered people a smile. It seemed they wanted the bloodshed to end as much as she did; whether or not they truly trusted her, they preferred it over the alternative. She gave Lady Aimiki some thanks for that.

“Thank you,” Seiko said honestly. “I promise to keep my actions and intentions open, and I invite everyone to tell me if they have concerns. To start with, I know I’m inexperienced; as soon as I return to the palace, I’ll be reaching out to the Hiroki family to help the transition, as they’re the closest Gin has to a second royal family.”

She nodded towards Kinjo as he stood up and brushed off the snow. He gave a sheepish grin once he realized.

“I’m aware that having only one person in the royal family might be concerning,” she continued. “First, I’d like to dedicate the rest of this week to mourning for everyone who has died in these past two years—but afterwards, I’ll start preparations for a wedding. Kinjo Asahi will rule alongside me.”

No one in the crowd had any protests. Seiko gave a final bow.

“Thank you for your time, everyone. I’ll come back out when I next have a few moments to spare.”