The Bride

Chapter 37//: Time's running out

♕✿~♕✿~Chapter 37//: Time's running out♕✿~♕✿~

Ahren's POV

My nerves are working in overdrive as I watch myself getting tailored for my coronation in the mirror.

I'm dressed in a sleek black and red military uniform, one that is disturbingly similar to the one my father wore for his coronation many years back. It feels like I am looking at a ghost, at an imposter of my father. These thoughts make me pale considerably until I actually resemble a ghost.

My stomach turns uncomfortably, making me feel nauseous. My subconscious is telling me, yelling pleadingly at me, to not follow through with today's plans. For some reason, the idea of the coronation happening today isn't settling well with me. But I can't explain these feelings well, so I deem them illogical and do my best to push the thoughts aside.

A knock sounds at the door. I tell whoever is on the other side to come in, and the door opens. In the mirror, I can see Gregory standing in the doorway.

He has an encouraging smile on his face, but it twists and changes until it's a grimace. He clears his throat. "Your Majesty, it's almost time for the coronation to start. You need to be in position," he says gently. I nod numbly, servants rushing around me to make last minute corrections to my uniform. I put on a look of determination on my face, looking into the mirror to see if it's convincing. I can't let anyone think that I'm anything but ready to take my seat on the throne.

I exit the room, walking side by side with Gregory at a quick pace. The hallways are deathly quiet, not a sign of life around on the third floor of the spacious palace. The silence makes me feel more unsettled than I already am.

Gregory and I start to make our descent down the stairs. In my mind, I chant a mantra of distress. I'm not ready, I am ready. I'm not ready, I am ready. Each word is punctuated by another step down towards the throne room where I will be coronated.

We come to a stop on the first floor. As I follow Gregory to the throne room, I take a glance behind my back to look at the colossal doors that lead to the front of the palace, where I know people - ranging from governors from the capital to envoys from the Lakelands and Piedmont - are waiting until it is the time for me to become the king I was born to be.

We reach the throne room, and I take a moment to notice the details of the room. Red and black dominate; deep red colored chairs set out for the guests to sit in, black fabrics draped around the room, and roses placed in eye-catching vases placed strategically around the room. And, of course, the centerpieces of the room: the thrones reserved for the king and queen.

The queen's chair is a simple design, crafted out of diamondglass. But it's easily overshadowed by the king's chair. Although they're made out of the same material, they have completely different looks. Whereas the queen's chair is mundane, the king's chair has been carved into the shape of an inferno, commemorating the Calore monarchy that has been in place for generation upon generation.

I would sit in that throne after today. Before, I had stood behind my father dutifully. But now, I was to take his place as he took his father's place. It made me weak in the legs, and I feared for a second that I would collapse.

The mantra is shouted louder in my head, giving me a headache, as Gregory reminds me of when and how I'm supposed to walk down the aisle to the throne. I can barely comprehend his words over the sound of my own.

I'm not ready, I am ready. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not. Oh God, I'm not, someone help me, I don't know what to do as king, I can't do this-