Chapter 2 A Grand Entrance

Trumpets sounded through the throne room's vaulted arches, the notes echoing off gilt columns as I crossed the polished floor. Bright banners hung on the walls, illustrating Valtara's past successes in gleaming thread. My heart pounded, although I made an effort to show no visible signs of distress. Steven was hiding his conversation from him - those words haunted me, gnawing on the worry that was lodged in my chest.

Dignitaries filled the large space, lavishly attired in clothing that glimmered in the flickering light of torches. Rows of ornate chairs faced the dais, on which the High Minister stood next to a crimson cushion, on it a bejeweled crown. Wren hovered around one marble pillar, eyes wide and laser-focused, searching every undulating corner for threats. I clutched at the folds of my gown, remembering Kellan and Steve schemed something terrible. But that morning I had no evidence, only the feeling that I should be on guard.

I passed among the murmuring nobles, nodding politely to their whispered hellos. Beneath the cordial bows and practiced smiles, an undercurrent of tension hung over the crowd. Lace fans fluttered in a whisper, and others refused to meet my eyes. A few, eyes narrowed, looked ready for any slip-up that would confirm the chitchat circling about my lineage.

My footfalls echoed in the silence that followed the trumpets' last blast. On the dais, I froze, attempting to appear confident among so many eyes trained on me. Out of the corner of my eye, Wren's silhouette never wavered, a lighthouse on the stormy seas of chaos. Beneath a glittering chandelier, soldiers of the royal guard stood at stiff attention, geometry of polished breastplates illuminated by the fluttering of candlelight.

The High Minister bowed slightly and motioned me to kneel on the low step. "Honored guests, we are here to witness the crowning of Lois Frazer, heir to Valtara's throne. May her reign be prosperous and peaceful."

I bowed my head, throat tightening as he beckoned toward the crown's golden rim. Jewels glimmered in the flickering light, a testament to the lineages that had ruled these lands. The significance of this moment sent my heart racing. If it weren't for the bone-chilling realization that my friend had planned something remorseless in the day's grey shadows, I would have thrown myself into this ceremony wholeheartedly.

As he reached to bring the crown up from its cushion, a deafening crash echoed. Heads spun, shocked exclamations bursting forth. The doors to the throne room slammed against the walls, tearing the hush. Wren rushed to my side, a hand grazing my elbow, protectively unsure. My blood pulled at the invasion. Shadows loomed in the open doorway, and a figure stepped forward with bold purpose, shattering the solemn atmosphere with a single explosive entrance.

Gasps echoed through the throne room as Steve Reynolds marched in, the rolled documents held in one hand. The silence that followed felt like charged unspoken electricity. My heart sank when I saw my old, dear friend interrupting the coronation so brazenly. His face had no warmth, each line hard, as if he had discarded any loyalty that had once laced us together.

A burst of alarm ricocheted through me. The High Minister froze, crown suspended in midair, unsure if she should push on or stand aside. Wren took a stiff posture, ready for a fight. Nobles traded alarmed looks, craning their necks to hear the details. I jutted up my chin, refusing to droop at Steve's unexpected challenge.

He approached the dais with purposeful steps. "Stop this," he said, voice ringing with the fighting kind of clarity. "I have evidence that this coronation is built on illegitimate foundations." He slowly opened up the parchments, the seals for the world to see. "Lois Frazer does not have the ancestry she says.

A wave of whispers swept through the assembly. Some covered their mouths in shock; others squinted, seeking to disentangle fact from fabrication. My pulse soared. I was pinned by every gaze, powerless to stop Steve's accusations. I suddenly remembered hearing him plotting with Kellan. Now he had official-seeming evidence to use against me.

Taking a deep breath, I raised my voice, trying to sound calm. "What lies do you bring to this sacred event, Steve? My words quaked under a false calm.

He looked me in the eye without flinching. "Lies? These records get signed by prominent scribes. They suggest that your father's claim was forged long ago. Valtara deserves truth, not some woman who usurped a throne she had no business touching." His treachery marked me more than any knife. What I saw was undisguised certainty in the set of his jaw, as if he believed every syllable - or wanted to convince everyone else he did.

All around us the nobles murmured nervously, divided between the long-held respect my line had been shown and the scandalous claims. The Prime Minister dropped the crown, color draining from his face. Guards shared nervous glances at the fringes of the dais, uncertain whether to protect me or bow to Steve's vilification.

Wren opened her mouth to speak, but Steve's voice pitched up again, overrunning her protest. He swept his hand toward me with a gesture that turned in my gut. "She presents herself to you under false pretenses. Will you crown an impostor?"

Rage flickered in my veins, but the flood of rumor-saturated documents clipped my momentary denials. My heart pounded in my chest as I opened my mouth to dispute him, but the din of uncomfortable chatter drowned out my words. I could sense the crowd wavering in its loyalty, and my once staunch backers crumbling at Steve's charge.

The throne room erupted into chaos. Nobles burst into disbelieving cries, some throwing up arms in protest, some shouting questions at Steve or me. My head was spinning trying to come up with a justified response, but every word got lost in the rush of voices. Loyalty divided the royal guard into tight clusters, each of whom hesitated, unsure who warranted their protection.

I attempted to step forward, but a pair of guards stood in my way, faces lined with confounded allegiance. Beyond them, Steve was advancing on the High Minister, who held the crown as if it would disappear. He glanced back and forth between me and Steve, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"Give it to me," Steve said, waving his parchments as though they were a scepter of power. "These documents confirm that I should be leading until we learn the real truth about Lois's claim."

"Wait," I hiccuped out, voice cracking. "This coronation must go on until proven otherwise." And even though my heart raced, I wouldn't give in so easily. A whirlpool of treacherous shock spread through me. Neither my schooling nor a single prepared speech had taught me how to counter a friend's sudden betrayal.

Guards parted instantly, making room beneath Steve's disdainful gaze. When I tried to pull away, one of the soldiers took hold of my arm and stopped me. The other looked down, ashamed. My pulse raced with disbelief, but that one grip held me in place, compelled to witness.

Steve's hands closed over the crown's shining rim. The High Minister raised a weak protest, but nobody tried to stop the robbery. The rubies and sapphires glittered coldly, sneering at the pride I'd once had in my impending rise. My heart in horror, I remained rooted, breath disordered as Steve held that symbol of authority aloft before the halting audience.

Soldiers loyal to him saluted, their fists clenched across their chests. Some, appearing ambivalent, simply hung their heads. The din of disjointed cries echoed against frescoed ceilings, an unholy choir signaling a coup. Wren didn't know how to move past it, her voice drowned out in the chaos.

In that blood-curdling moment, Steve and I locked eyes, hoisting the crown like he had a stake in it. I caught a glimmer of regret, or maybe sadness, cross his face. Then it solidified and became determination, any lingering glow snuffed out by his ambition. The words fuzzed out in powerless fury. I could see the room curlicuing around me, the visions of rightful inheritance crashing to dust. Placing the crown upon his head, Steve turned to look at the crowd as their new ruler. I did not breathe, rooted in place with fear and not wanting to scream as he prostrated his rule, and the silence afterward was the last sigh of my legacy.