The Lark Taps Twice

Chapter 30: Ascension

"Ahem."

That single word, sandwiched between bouts of muffled laughter and forced coughing, penetrated the fog of passion that Jonatham's kiss created. Miriam jolted away from him. His chuckle joined that of the others as he tugged her head into his chest. Grateful for the illusion of privacy to regain her composure, she sucked in a few breaths, each a little deeper and more controlled than the last, before turning her head to face Jim and the king.

The elder royal's amused expression turned serious once she met his gaze. "In light of this discovery, I am even more confident that I am about to do the right thing, the best thing for our family, for the kingdom, and for both of our worlds."

Jonatham's confusion mixed with her own, but before either of them could voice a question, Riquero continued, "It will not be official before the people until we can convene a proper succession council and schedule the relevant ceremonies. But between us, from this moment on, I declare my journey as ruling monarch of Dyza at an end. I will continue to hold the title of King and perform all of the duties associated with that designation until you are both publicly acknowledged. However, in private, I will now address you as King Jonatham and Queen Miriam and treat you with the esteem due to a sovereign. May you both rule in peace and prosperity for years to come."

Miriam's jaw gapped, and her voice abandoned her throat while her mind transformed into Tornado Alley. Jonatham's mind added to the chaos as his emotions tripped over one another and tumbled drunkenly into hers. His chest heaved wildly under her cheek, her heart pounding as fast as her own.

Ignoring them both, Jonatham's father slid from his seat to the floor, shoving the chair back to create enough space so he could kneel before them. He grasped the tiny royal crest pinned to his shirt cuff and tore it free with a yank. Cradling it in his cupped hand, he held it to his mouth and blew on it, as though it were a dozen birthday candles and he the birthday boy desperate to extinguish them all and avoid a streak of bad luck. The force of his breath flipped the pin over twice, first to face down, then to face up again, each movement bringing it closer to Mir and Jon and farther from his own body.

The pin at rest again, Riquero clapped his other hand over it firmly. In a short sequence, he outlined an infinity symbol with his hands pressed palm to palm, repeating the movement once more before freezing in a position of prayer. In the next moment, he snapped his hands out so they formed a bowl, the seal face-up in the center. Simultaneously, he sharply ducked his head to stare at the floor, halting the movement with his hands a fingers-width above the short gray hairs dusting the crown of his head.

Miriam had no idea what to do now. The older royal held his awkward pose, his only motion being the swell and shrink of his chest with slow breaths. Her mind could not grab onto anything beyond the word queen. Queen Miriam. She'd had little time to adjust to being the soulmate of a prince, to becoming a princess. Now her status had changed yet again, and her brain could not comprehend it. She thought desperately, Can he do that? What do we do now? What does this mean?

Immediately Jonatham replied in kind, Yes, he can, and we must accept. Anything else would dishonor us all, even with only a single foreigner as witness. It means our time of ruling Dyza has arrived a bit sooner than I anticipated. Follow my lead, and take your proper place, my queen.

Jonatham rose to his feet, his arm around her waist guiding her to stand also. He cupped one hand over the pin and placed the other on the bowing king's head. Miriam followed suit, her one hand finishing the sphere surrounding the seal of the kingdom, and her other hand covering the other half of the older royal's spot of thinning hair.

Once her fingers stilled beside his, Jonatham spoke, "This day, I honor you for your service to our kingdom and for your sacrifice now, acknowledging your weakness in the presence of one possessing greater strength than your own. May your remaining years be easy and joyous, a continual celebration of all you have given to our people. I pray my rule may be as prosperous as yours, that you and our people never regret this transfer of authority that we complete this day."

Jon prompted, Repeat after me.

Carefully Miriam spoke the words as they trickled into her mind. "As your successor's mate, I humbly stand in support of you both, and in support of our people. Where he is hard, I am soft; where I am weak, he is strong. Our differences balance out our flaws, a necessary component for successful leadership. Together we take up the mantle of authority, not because we seek to rule, but because it is our duty to serve. May our people care for you as you have cared for us all these years. Belaramen."

All three men echoed out loud, "Belaramen."

Jonatham directed, Now you must take the seal and pin it to the cuff of my right sleeve, slowly. Then place the seal, attached to my shirt, back into my father's hands. At once, we all say "It is finished," and complete the ceremony. Then we can ask questions. I assure you, Mir; I have several of my own.

Hands trembling, Miriam followed the directions, taking extra care with the tiny clasp on the pin so as not to graze Jonatham's wrist while securing it in place. As she guided the adorned cuff into Requiro's hands, they suddenly parted. The retired royal flicked his wrists and clapped his palms together, cupping her hands and pressing them around Jonatham's wrist, framing the glittering seal between his fingertips.

"It. Is. Finished," he spoke, his voice dripping with royal command. His head snapped up, his gaze an arrow to Miriam's.

A bolt of red energy shot up from the retiring man's scalp and forced his head down. The brilliance highlighted every one of his thinning hairs as it stretched up to the shadowy recesses of the ceiling. When Miriam tore her eyes from Riquero's to follow the beam's progress upward, she saw it split in half on a heavy wood beam. The separate shafts of energy shot toward her and Jonatham, too quickly for her to react before one crashed into her forehead, just between her eyebrows.

It burned like splatters of hot bacon grease that always peppered her arms with welts as fine as grains of sand whenever she attempted to cook the savory treat. Only this was an entire tablespoon of that sizzling fat, jumping up out of the pan all at once and assaulting her face with hellish heat.

Before she could scream, the pain vanished as quickly as it began, and she realized that the acute nature of the agony had come in part from Jon's pain stacking on her own. A heavy disc replaced the branding heat, a thick coin embedded in a ridge of flesh she rarely noticed and now could not stop thinking about.

It is the weight of Majesty, bequeathed by the magic of this land only to the rightful ruler. You are truly unique in the history of our people, my lady, for never in our written history has the Majesty been shared between a king and queen. Its burden has always been the responsibility of the king alone, only resting on a queen when she is the legitimate heir to the throne, and then not shared with her chosen mate. I have a hunch more challenges await us, and I shall relish every one of them with you.

Miriam's already weakened knees gave out at this overflow of information, and Jonatham caught her in his arms before lowering them both to the sofa. He cradled her close and kissed her hair, murmuring tender nothings over her as she closed her eyes and basked in his love. For a few breaths, all they knew was each other, a brief respite from the new life just thrust upon them.

At last, Miriam remembered their audience and gathered herself to face them. When her eyes fluttered open and met the drawn expression of Requiro, she realized she had no idea what to say. Is there a protocol here, she wondered, or am I to just fumble through addressing my new father-in-law and now not-king? What if I say the wrong thing and the magic takes back the Majesty, takes it from both of us?

At once, her mate's arms tightened around her, distracting her from her circling thoughts. His thoughts squished all her swirling spiky doubts into oblivion with one phrase: Just be yourself, my queen.

Panic gone, Miriam squirmed in Jonatham's hold, forcing him to release her. Free of his arms, she slid from his lap and stood tall, forcing her spine as straight as possible. Slowly she extended a steady hand and touched Requiro's slumped shoulder.

"Rise," she commanded in a soft voice.

Her tone carried the solemnity of authority and forced all three men to obey. Requiro was the last to reach his feet and the first to smirk at the shopkeeper and newly appointed king. They fidgeted for a beat, until Requiro surged forward and wrapped Miriam in a tight embrace.

"Welcome to the family, my dear," he muttered in her ear. "I imagine you and my son have a lot of questions to ask me, and I have the perfect bottle of Syrah to smooth all the rough edges off this transition. Let's all go to my rooms and plan your wedding and coronation, Your Highness."