Chapter Eight: The Coronation Of ‘Queen’ Jamie.
The moment was finally here, and I was bored. Princess Jamie Regina Fellatrinx was bored. Everyone had always told me this would be my life's most exciting and wonderful day. The world would stop and revolve around me. I was being named the Monarch. I would carry on my mother’s legacy as the next Queen in the grand experiment. But nobody ever asked me what I wanted. Though, to be fair, I didn’t exactly know.
Light shined in from the outside; my maids had pulled back the curtains around twenty minutes ago but gave me privacy for my morning prayer. I hadn’t done them since my mother died. As the heir, my belief wasn't about faith but was a matter of Royal Fact.
The royal family was privy to the Fundamental Knowledge, of course. What we knew wasn’t just a belief in Penance but the proper understanding of the gateway to eternal life. In Penance, you couldn't die, but in the end, you earned your way to heaven or hell. Only 10% of people in Tragios made it to Penance, and what happened to those who didn’t make it to Penance was unknown. At least, that was the story the Church and the Crown told everyone.
The Royal line always decreed that the truth was too terrifying. So we hid it from the Church. The Royal Scriptures were only read by members with Royal Blood. The Royal Family passed down the Book of Blood from generation to generation. In a few hours, it would be my turn to unlock the tome’s clasp and recite the ancient readings. I would know the whole truth; everything kept from me, from my mother, by my father, finally revealed. He always said the truth would change me, destroy me.
Was I ready for such a thing? I could run away right now: I could hitch up my dress or steal a maid's outfit and sneak out with the morning rush. I could open up the window. I had a full hour, well, fifty minutes, until my maids would be here to prep me for the naming ceremony. But this morning was different from the ideal time to run. No, the ideal time would be this evening before the ceremony was complete.
But I made my first mistake. Letting a stray thought about escaping wasn’t right. My father employed a mind thief, and yet I still found myself fantasizing about running away. I would still have to do my naming ceremony; however, there would be a ninety-minute window after Gifts: The Dignified Dramaticas presentation of The Liar and the Dove. It had been one of my mother’s favorite plays, and we saw it every year of her reign; however, it hadn’t been played since her death five years ago. I chose the play in her memory.
Time for prayer became a time to dream and hope. I imagined my flight away from my problems, and the realization brought out a sigh.
~The Presentation~
The crier posed upon the altar stood with over-rigid poise. “Presenting Her Royal Princess Jamie Marina Regina, Heir to the Fellatrinx throne, Lady of Venzwincourt, First of her Name, Forever shall she reign.” The trumpet sounded loud and fast as if it wanted to leave the ceremony as quickly as possible. I didn’t blame the trumpeter. I, too, wanted out of here.
I was led down the procession hall. Greeting duke and dame, one after the other, my keepers pressed me to take extra time with potential suitors. It wouldn’t be prudent to present a sour face after all. The Duke of Pewertyn, Ferran; the Duchess of Merekka, Plaera; and the Duke of Aerlyn, Yorman, were all present with their heirs.
I smiled and curtsied at the men and moved on. Heirs weren’t always known for their sex appeal. Poor decisions, political upheavals, and terrible luck cursed the heirs of my generation. I had not escaped the plight. I always tried to hide my heterochromia, especially after Duke Yorman Aerlyn said no one would ever marry a demon-eyed freak. I glanced back at the three human-troll hybrids and glared some daggers at Yorman for good measure. He didn’t even look my way.
I was running out of reasons not to run away. As we left the hall, I glanced around at the Abbey. The relief of the Gods hung centrally in the hall: Rellum, the God of purity; Aurentum, the God of wealth; and Malikap, the God of justice. It felt like everything I was became judged under the weight of their stares.
~The Ceremony~
The thing about ceremonies is that you never know what kind of boredom you will face until you are stuck there, unable to move. The boredom came to a quick and sudden end when the sad trumpet from earlier made its final desperate pleas for freedom. The band announced the Presentation of Gifts.
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Suddenly, I was overcome with waves of grief and despair. I flashed back to my earliest memory at four years old. I was sitting in my mother’s lap, playing with a bracelet on her arm. The bracelet that now rested on my arm.
“Jamie. Have I told you about my Aegis bracelet? I got this gift from my father on my naming day. This bracelet will protect your soul from evil. It will guarantee that your soul will find rest and ascend as long as you wear it. A father’s role is to protect his children from evil, death, and Penance. And it is the customary tradition of the Fellatrinx royal family to bequeath upon its heirs an heirloom of protection. Your father and I are working on creating just such a gift for you.”
My mother's words sang around in my head, and I wished time could freeze so I could just bask in her music, her warmth, and her love. The only reason I hadn’t run away from my cruel and overbearing father. The only reason I hadn’t escaped this cruel mockery of a life where my decisions weren’t mine. The only reason I hadn’t picked the lock and fled this gilded cage of lies built on the suffering of the people I was supposed to serve was the promise of my mother’s final gift. All I knew was that it would be jewelry—my mother’s last gift.
A cold liquid shocked me from my reverie as the priest anointed my head with oils. He waved the thurible in the air, and the room smelled dense with heavy perfume. And then he spoke. “In the name of Rellum, I bless you, Princess Jamie, blah blah, first of her name. Against all evils we anoint you to stand; stalwart in defense of the faith, do you renounce Malikap, all his works, and all his children?”
It was my turn to speak. “I do renounce him.”
“And when your failures count up through the decades, and you are found wanting, do you accept the wages of the merchant of death?”
“I accept the wages of sin.” The priest froze, expectant, as if this moment was everything. I had always thought this moment would mean something: that I would suddenly rise to my station, that I would feel the world's weight on my shoulders, that everything would make sense, that I wouldn't want to run away anymore. Instead, I felt hollow, like this whole ordeal was wrong.
And it was wrong. Blasphemous, even. I said I didn’t care about religion, and this was why. The hypocrisy of it all made me want to scream. The church had likely spent tens of thousands of gold on this single event. Money that was meant for the poor and hungry. Money wasted on someone who didn’t even want the pomp and circumstance. Money wasted on someone who never wanted the power to begin with.
The moment passed, and the priest spoke. “Princess Regent, Jamie. Shall ascend. It is time for the presentation of gifts. King Turmeran, please step forward to present the Royal Heirloom.”
I shuddered at the mention of my father. I wasn’t happy that I would have to see him one last time before I ran away. It was unsettling seeing my father. He had always been a soft, gentle man. But his heart had calloused over the wound my mother left at her death had never healed. Ever since my mother died, he had changed. He never hugged me anymore. It was like his heart was a quivering mass of unfounded fears.
Yesterday morning, I prepared myself for a walk through the outer courtyard—something I had done dozens of times. However, my father accosted me at the gate of the inner courtyard. His rage was so visible heat radiated from his face like heat from a stove.
“Daughter, you should not wander about the grounds this close to your naming day.” He never yelled or screamed. He kept his heat from his voice instead. The rage was in his piercing gaze, and his fanatical grin bit the air. “If you die before you produce an heir, our family, everything your mother and I built, will be for naught.”
Trellis and Griesan, my father’s guards, his first and second in command, grabbed me by the shoulder and dragged me back inside. I knew better than to cause a scene.
I felt stuck in these memories, these moments. I was unsure how to act or get my mind to move on. Back in the present, my father spoke. For the first time since my mother’s death, he looked happy, serene even. His gruff stubble framed his face in a way that belied his years. He still looked manic, like a homeless man in his late thirties rather than the king of a nation, but his smile reached his eyes, and his once omnipresent kindness exuded once again from his frame. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug my father. To bask in what had been missing for so many years. But there was a chasm between us I couldn’t cross.
“Jamie, this gift, the Ring of Reditus, has a terrible but great power: it can recall the bearer of its twin, the Ring of Requiem, to any location the wearer resides in, ensuring you are always safe and never fear death, as it will bring you back to a marked place even if you are inches from death.”
And then the light and gentleness were gone. A fire burned in his eyes, and darkness shadowed his face.
“Leave not this palace for beyond is a land of shadows and ill fate. Your only true shelter is within these walls.”
He turned around and left the hall. The rest of the ceremony proceeded without him, King no longer, but still holding all of the power. My naming day marked my first ascent to power, but it would be years, decades even before I grabbed the reins, and who knew if I would still be myself? My mother always told me that power has an insidious way of eating away at the good of a person and leaving behind the bad. She never wanted me to lose sight of the woman she shaped me to be.
I felt the warmth of the ring on my finger. Little wisps of magic radiated from the ring like smoke from a flame.
I wish I had known then what I know now. I would have followed my father’s advice and stayed in the castle.