A royal bloodline gets divided by rebels' attempted regicide, casting Alvina from her throne and into hiding, as Quinn, the bastard brother, is forced to take her place.
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Alvina was supposed to be queen, but when her coronation is abruptly stopp...
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My legs were shaking. Everything was shaking. The arch priestess stood in front of me, praying to the gods to bless me. She slowly lowered the crown down on my head. Someone had made me a new one. It looked like a crown of thorns. I didn't get it, but Aki had found it hilarious. A bastard king of thorns. Something about our family crest using roses but I'd just stick with the thorns.
I slowly rose to my feet and turned my back on the priestess as she announced my regency. It was all blurred, though. Everything in the room was a blur. Sounds were a blur. I was a blur.
It was a small coronation. Only the council and some of the rebels were present. I didn't recognise them, and Aki wasn't present, much to my surprise.
"Long live the king," the priestess said, ending the ceremony. The councillors repeated the phrase, and now I was king. It was that easy.
There'd be no celebrations. No parties and no speeches. It was all a quiet affair, and I was done for today. This was just something that we all needed to get over with. And now it was over with.
I sent Islo a look and made my way to my chambers, hoping he'd follow. I stepped inside and took the crown off, putting it on my coffee table. King Quinn av Stál. That was me now.
I sighed and dumped down on the sofa, burying my face in my hands. I heard the door open and looked up to find Islo there.
"Your Highness," he said and bowed his head.
"Oh, don't," I groaned and leaned back in the sofa.
"I thought you'd enjoy that kind of thing," he snorted and closed the door behind him. He shrugged off the councillor jacket and hung it over the backrest of one of the chairs across from the sofa.
"I really don't." I sighed and turned my palm up, my hand resting on my knee. Islo sat down next to me, fitting his fingers in between mine. I leaned against him, resting my cheek on his shoulder.
"Have you met any of the rebellion leaders?" I asked.
"No. They operate through mouthpieces. Like the asshole. He's one of them."
"So no one knows who's actually in charge of this?"
"I doubt the mouthpieces don't."
I frowned, looking down at Islo's fingers. He had very neat fingernails. He definitely took good care of himself. He always looked pristine. Even when we woke up in the mornings, he looked very put together.
"You'd think they'd wanna talk to me."
"Why ever come out into the light unless it's necessary? This way if there's ever a pushback, the leaders aren't the ones taking the blame. Their mouthpieces will fall, and the leaders can quietly pull back and go into hiding if that's what they want."
"Islo... Could..." I hesitated and bit down on my lip.
