Figurehead

forty-eight

My firstkin, who have been staying with Tui, are waiting with the others when we emerge from Dein's- from our rooms for the second time, with the first time being to get food. Now, Dein wears his crown and the Escatin seal. We left my staff behind.

"Excited?" Sret asks when we reach them. She grins when I make a face. "I'll assume your answer is 'maybe'," she says.

I blow out a breath. "Let's see how this goes," I mutter. Dein's grip tightens around me briefly.

The others have a mix of nervousness and anticipation written in their faces. The guards wear their masks, and I'm glad I don't see their uncertainty. Tui, Ret, Lus, Tri and Yef all look less nervous than Dein and my firstkin.

My ama looks partly terrified, slightly happy and somewhat resigned. I suppose she's accepted now that she can't protect me anymore, that I'm, in a sense, out of her reach now. I'm more than her firstborn daughter now, I'm the woman bound to the king. In moments, I will be named queen. Afa looks resigned too, slightly sad, slightly happy, and definitely nervous. Sret's gaze is flicking between Dein and I, and from the grin on her face, she seems happy about my binding. But I can glimpse a flicker of nervousness, a flash of sadness or worry. And maybe I imagine it, but a flicker of longing for a binding of her own. One day.

Dein's afa appears at the other end of the hallway, approaching with something wrapped in cloth in his hands. A guard I don't know accompanies him.

The former king stops only when he comes to stand in front of us, the guard joining the others. "You're one of us now, Janf," Jur says solemnly. "One of the Escatin." He unwraps the object in his hands, and the air stills.

Dein tenses. "Is that..?" His voice is a bare whisper.

Jur dips his head. It takes a moment before he responds. "Yes." He looks up from the twisted ring of gold to meet the vivid blue of his son's eyes. "It is." His voice is heavy with grief. He meets my gaze. "This is the crown of the late queen." My breath catches in my throat. He rewraps it, handing it to his son.

"Thank you, Afa," he manages, and his voice is thick and hoarse and heavy. Jur places a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezes before stepping back with a nod, his eyes full and glistening.

Lus steps forward. "Should I hold it for you?" he asks, voice laced thickly with caution and uncertainty. Neither he or Dein ever saw Dein's ama. This is one of the few remaining connections Dein has to her. Dein looks down at the bundle, pausing before handing it to his almost-brother, who takes it as if moving it too much will cause it to break.

"Shav's ring is in there too," Jur says, struggling with the words. It evidently took a lot of effort simply to speak the name of his former bound. I move my arm from Dein's side to the back of his neck, brushing my thumb over his skin. His deep breath shudders before he turns to me. His eyes are damp, vivid and full of sorrow laced with joy and anticipation and uncertainty. He lowers his head and kisses me.

"Let's go, my queen," he murmurs against my lips, before lifting his head and straightening. I draw a shaky breath and nod, shifting my stance. "Let's go," he repeats, loud enough for all of us to hear.

I glance at my kin. "Stay out of sight," I tell them. They nod, despite the hint of frustration that tinges their expressions.

Dein's arm shifts slightly around me and then we turn, leading the way through the passageway towards the palace entrance, Gri and Kep on either side of us.

This is real. This is happening. I am actually queen.

Lord... Lord, protect us and be with us as You have been in every moment of our lives. You promised not to leave or forsake us, so please do not leave us now. I know You will never break any of Your promises, and I know that in You, we have strength. Please give me strength to face the people. Thank You for preserving our lives and for bringing us together, Lord. Your will alone be done. Your Name be glorified. And may they see You, Agape, in us. In the name of Your Son, I pray amen.

The people have gathered in the streets, in the pathways of Anshakim, and on the rooftops. The area of snow has still been left somewhat untouched by the Anshakim, and still has been left so now. A line of guards stand stoic, armed and armoured in front of the steps, surrounded by civilians and separated from them by the snow. Another line of guards stands at the top of the steps, and these turn and part for us at the sound of our footsteps.

My heart thuds with each step we make, as Anshakim comes into view. We come to a stop in the centre, flanked by guards and by Tui and Lus. Jur stands in sight just behind us and my kin stand behind us all, with Med and Ret. Dein's thumb brushing against my side reminds me to breathe.

I turn to see Dein looking at me, a faint smile slipping through his mask, and I take a deep breath before returning it.

He releases my waist and takes my hand, lacing our fingers with a deep breath of his own. 'Ready?' he mouthes, and I give him the slightest nod before he raises our linked hands to the half-day light.

Silence descends, and all I can hear is my heart.

The silence cracks into murmurs and whispers as people point and stare. They do not chant the empire's name now. We raise our unlinked arms and wait.

Slowly, silence returns.

"People of Anshakim. My people." His voice is carried by the cool air and its winds over the streets and rooftops sprawled before us. "It is my honour to serve you as king." He looks at me and smiles, returning his gaze to Anshakim. "And now it is my honour to introduce to you my bound." We lower our arms. "We were bound with the Lord and our kin as witnesses at first light, and now you, my people, our people, will witness her crowning, as you witnessed mine."

I don't know how he manages to appear so calm, how he manages to hide any shaking in his voice, but his hand is as damp as mine before he releases it. He turns to his almost-brother, who unwraps the crown and the silver ring, handing the crown to my bound.

Dein returns his attention to me, and his eyes and his smile are full and warm. "Janf, you are my bound, my isha, my ameitel," he murmurs, his words audible only for me. He places the glinting ring of gold on my head, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "My queen." He doesn't take his eyes off me even as Lus hands him the ring and he takes my hand, slipping the silver band onto my right forefinger.

I smile as he cups my face in his hands. "Dein, you are my bound, my ish, my ameitel, my prince and king." The words barely make it out before he presses his lips to mine.

"Escatin! Escatin! Escatin!"

The chanting becomes a little disordered as he deepens the kiss and my hands link behind his neck. Some cheer and others whistle, and the timing of the chants is broken in some places, but I don't care, and Dein clearly doesn't.

I laugh when we part for breath, my cheeks burning and my blood rushing. "Did you forget the empire is watching?" Not to mention my parents. And my sister. And his afa.

"No," he answers simply, smiling at me. "I just don't care."

We turn to face the people lining the paved and cracked streets and paths, linking our hands and raising our arms. The people standing in snow and mud and dirt and dust, of all ages, heights, sizes, most with at least one arm raised as they continue to chant the name of the king's blood. Of my name, now that I am one of the Escatin.

And their voices, high and low and heavy and light and rough and soft, flow as one. Their voices are a river, a current, a flow, because the Escatin name belongs to them, and they are the lifeblood of this empire.

Something floods my heart, something unexpected, and it is a rush of affection, perhaps a hint of Agape, and it is for the people.

My people.

"Here is your queen!" Dein announces. "No longer is she trusted messenger or second heir, she is my queen and my heir. She is our queen." The chant continues, although I see flickers of surprise or amusement. Surprise, now that they know who I was and now am. Amusement, because Dein kisses me again.

And that rush of affection, that little hint of what might be Agape, it flows through my veins and fills my heart and overwhelms me. And now, as I meet the gaze of the man I love, I know what it feels like, just for a moment, to love my people.

And our people continue to chant our name, the name of our empire.

"Escatin! Escatin! Escatin!"