One True Queen (School for Good and Evil Book 2)

Chapter 41

STORIAN POV

The Pen that tells the tale is just that: the teller, with no place in the story. It should not be a character or a weapon or a prize. It should not be lionized or persecuted or thought of at all. The Pen must be invisible, doing its work in humble silence, with no bias or opinion, like an all-seeing eye committed only to unspooling a story until its end.

Yet here we are: things once held sacred are sacred no longer.

I, The Pen, am under siege.

My spirit is weakened, my powers fading.

I must tell my own story or risk Man erasing it forever.

Man, who despite thousands of years of trusting in my powers . . . has now come to take them from me.

***

No one knew where in the gardens the coronation would take place, for there was no stage or altar or priest and no sign of the soon-to-be queen. But as the sun dipped into the horizon, guards continued to let guests in—men, women, children, dwarves, trolls, elves, ogres, fairies, goblins, nymphs, and more citizens of the Woods—all dressed in their finest as they crammed through the gates of Camelot's castle.

Packed hip to hip, the people flooded the groves of the Orangerie, the paths of the Sunken Garden, and the lawns of the Rosefield, all of which orbited the long Reflecting Pool crowned with a marble statue of King Rhian hammering Excalibur into the masked Snake's neck. Muddy shoes stained the grass and flattened the willows; restless children tore branches and ate the lilacs; a family of giants broke an orange tree. But still guards continued to let guests in, even as the setting sun halved and quartered and the smell of sweaty bodies clogged the air.

"Is there no end to this?" the Empress of Putsi growled, holding her nose as people jostled against her, nearly knocking her and her goosefeather coat into the Reflecting Pool. "Putsi butchers and millers and maids given the same treatment as their Empress! Ever and Never royalty thrown to the masses and left to fend for ourselves! After all we've done for King Rhian? After we burned our rings in his name? Who ever heard of commoners at a royal coronation!"

"It is the commoners who have made this Y/n queen," said Maharani of Mahadeva. "And now that we've burned our rings, our voice has no more weight than theirs."

"We burned our rings to save kingdoms. To earn the king's protection," the Empress argued. "Your castle was attacked like mine. Your sons might be dead if not for you giving up your ring."

"I gave up my ring for the king. Not his fianceé. And yes, the king may have protected us in the past, but who's to say the new queen will do the same?"

The Empress adjusted her coat. "Well, either way, your realm is safe now."

"Is it? How are we protected if the Kingdom Council no longer has a vote against the soon-to-be queen?" the Maharani pressed. "A queen who my advisors believe seeks the power of the Storian."

"The 'One True King' is an old wives' tale spread by that Sader family. But even if any of their flimflam was true, you of all people should welcome it. The Storian did nothing for Evil kingdoms like yours or for the Nevers of the Woods. If Y/n had the Storian's power, she might do Evil a world of Good." The Empress stood straighter. "Her Highness will be a worthy queen to both sides. She'll listen to us, whether or not we have our rings. Queen Y/n will always put us above the people—"

Something smacked her face, and she looked up at a chubby boy high on a staircase, pelting people with gooseberries.

"Like she's done today?" the Maharani asked, stonefaced.