Chapter Twenty-Three
Standing at the top of the stone steps leading into the Grand Forum—a circular building made of white stone, the floors of white marble—Mina exhaled a deep breath.
“As we said, I’ll go in first and call the House to order,” Lord Rathbone said, leaning close to her ear. “Then I’ll relate there has been a new proposition put to the House, one not in their current registers. That’s when you will enter.”
“Right.” She nodded.
“Smile, Your Highness.” He stood tall, smoothing his waistcoat. “All will be well.” Then he winked and walked with long, commanding strides into the hall where the overlapping voices of the many lords fell to a hush at his entry.
“Don’t be nervous,” said Friedrich on her right.
“I’m not nervous.”
And that was the truth, strangely enough. She’d always been nervous upon her annual visits to the Grand Forum. But now she understood why. Steward Thorwald paraded her in as an ornament, for her to show her face and never open her mouth. She’d always felt out of place because she’d had no place there. But not today. Today, she would be seen and heard.
“We’ll be right behind you. To be sure they understand you’re not alone.”
Mina turned to Friedrich and gave him a warm smile. “I’ve been alone all my life, Your Grace. It was what I was taught at an early age by Thorwald. A princess is a solitary entity who must live a solitary life. Not until I awoke from the bloodless sleep did I finally come to understand the truth.”
“What truth, Your Highness?”
“That a princess alone is a dying flower on the vine.” She shifted her gaze forward, hearing the staccato wrap of a gavel, bringing the House to order. “And a strong queen is never alone.”
“Quite right, Your Majesty.”
She smiled at his slip of a queenly title. “Not yet, Friedrich. Let’s get through this first.”
She marched forward, feeling the presence of her entourage at her back, sensing Mikhail closest on her left behind her.
“What new proposition?” She heard the blustering voice of Steward Thorwald as she crossed from the shadows of the arch into the light of the amphitheater. The oculus at the center of the dome let in sunlight, the rim of the dome ringed with large windows as well, bathing the white marble room in a vibrant air.
Rathbone arched a superior brow from the helm of the hall on the raised bench, gesturing toward her. “One that I believe Princess Vilhelmina Dragomir will present to us.”
A wave of gasps and murmurs echoed in the large chamber as she made her way across the hall with Friedrich and the Bloodguard at her back. Grant filed in as one of the Bloodguard. Mina took in the gaping, awestruck steward who had abused his position as her keeper all her life, then stepped up to the podium facing the amphitheater.
The tiers of lords all turned their eyes on her. They were separated by province. Their unique banners and scepters marked the first row of each province. She scanned them all, recognizing the leaders of the provinces, their eyes fixed on her. She nodded to Lord Grable of the Pierson Province, known as the greatest breeders of the fine Arkadian horses. She looked to the right, catching the eye of Lord Steele of the Creed Province, known for their superior craftsmanship in armor and weaponry.
Reaching out with her empathic gift, she sensed no menace—excepting the steward at her back on the bench with Rathbone and Lord Maksim—but felt pinpricks of surprise and curiosity. And perhaps a little fear as a few heads turned nervously to the entrance, many glancing at the black-clad Bloodguard standing in two lines facing opposite sides of the hall. Rumors had surely spread far and wide that she’d been a captive of King Dominik and that he was now on the warpath to recapture her.
“Greetings, my lords.” Her voice lifted to the domed ceiling easily in such an acoustic chamber. “I come today with a royal petition, but first I must digress to dispel any erroneous reports circulating throughout my kingdom.”
Thorwald huffed out a blustering protest at her mention of ownership of Arkadia. For she never had before. “This is preposterous. What can she possibly—”
“Close your mouth, Thorwald,” said Rathbone with such malevolence that Mina turned to find him staring daggers at the man. “Or I’ll shut it for you.”
Thorwald glanced away, his face mottled red.
Mina faced forward, inhaled a deep breath, chin up, back straight. “I must also confirm the truth of some of these reports.”
She waited while a few lords muttered to one another, but most of them remained riveted upon her.
“It is known that my father King Holland was a good and just king. He was the one who unified the provinces under the House of Arkadia and built this Grand Forum so that every lord might have a voice for his people.” Nods of approval. She waited till all was silent again. “If you were at the celebration of my birth, then you are aware he rejected Queen Morgrid’s demand that I, his only child, be betrothed to her son, Marius.”
No one made a sound. Not even Thorwald at her back, whose seething anger she felt like a burning fireball.
“Interestingly, this truth was kept from me till quite recently. All that I ever knew of my dear father was that he’d loved me. And he was killed by the hands of brigands when I was far too young. I never knew that love after he died. I was put under the care of Steward Thorwald.”
She flicked a hand over her shoulder without turning.
“He made sure I had the best of nursing care and I was kept far…far away from the rest of my kingdom. For my protection, he assured me.”
She heard the cynical twist of her words, but she cared not. They would hear it all. Right here. Right now.
“And so I was raised to be the perfect princess. Obedient. And silent. Awaiting the time when I would marry Prince Marius, since Steward Thorwald upheld the queen’s wishes that I should marry her son. Reminding you that this was against the wishes of your king before he was murdered.”
She couldn’t help but let her gaze flick to Mikhail. He remained steadfast, his gaze straight out toward the right of the hall, but his mere presence strengthened her still.
“I understand why none of you defied the placement of Thorwald at the helm of Arkadia. Queen Morgrid is a powerful force, the empress of our land. But I want to remind everyone here that your proper and true king did not want an alliance with the Glass Tower. Why? Because my father knew her evil would infect our land as soon as she held power over it.”
She paused, sweeping her gaze across the quiet auditorium.
“And so, understandably, you all accepted him as your ruler.”
She gestured a regal hand over her shoulder again.
“Even though he was in alliance with Queen Morgrid. When Prince Marius fled the Glass Tower to marry his human wife, Arabelle, of the Black Lily, defying his mother because he discovered she was the one infecting the land with sanguine furorem, the blood madness in the vampires killing rampantly at will, she blamed me for his betrayal. My punishment?”
She swept her gaze from one side to the next. No one moved.
“I was dragged back to Briar Rose, where my lady-in-waiting, my lifelong friend and blood host was murdered before my eyes. My only friend up till that point in my life. Her throat cut by Queen Morgrid’s right-hand man, Radomir. Then she was fed to his men like cattle.”
Her voice cracked with grief for Kathleen, but she held back all tears, wielding righteous anger in its stead.
“I was locked in my own tower in my own home and starved into a bloodless sleep.”
A few lords glanced and whispered low, nodding. Many had heard this rumor. It was nothing new. But they didn’t know what it was truly like.
“Being in a bloodless sleep is beyond any of your imagining. Beyond any nightmare you could possibly conjure. The constant gut-ripping pain in my abdomen from starvation wasn’t the worst of it. The paralysis wasn’t, either. The times where I could hear officers moving and talking in the chamber struck a new kind of fear in me. Can you imagine hearing men talk about the vulgar ways they could and would like to use your body while you lay prostrate and helpless? Never mind me. Can you imagine your own wives being in this helpless situation? Your daughters?”
Nervous shuffling and movement rippled along the rows of men. Mikhail’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t swivel or move his head an inch. Mina softened her voice but not the strength of her words.
“Thankfully, their fear of the queen’s command kept them at bay from using me unlawfully, but only because I was apparently to be saved as a prize for her son, King Dominik. Otherwise, I’m sure there would have been little left of me to save when the Bloodguard came to my rescue.”
Mina swept a hand toward the line of twenty men who’d accompanied her on this mission. The lords examined them more closely, realizing these were the mercenaries spoken of in many dark corners, but few had ever seen with their own eyes. They were indeed a formidable force, even when only half were standing here. Their expressions and demeanors fiercer than any troop of Legionnaires.
“Yes. Five of the Bloodguard saved me and killed all but a few of King Dominik’s Legionnaires.”
Gregoravich turned to her and held up three fingers, winked, then faced front again. She smiled.
“Correction. All but three men. From there, I was taken to safety in the home of Sienna of Silvane Forest.”
“She’s a witch! Burns men alive!” yelled Steward Thorwald.
A sharp crack. By the time Mina turned her head, Rathbone stood over Thorwald, slumped forward on the bench, Rathbone palming his fist.
His glare swept up the rows of lords. “I declare Steward Thorwald, who is in service to Queen Morgrid and not in service to this realm of Arkadia, to be unfit for his position as lead counselor. Do you agree, Lord Maksim?”
The gruff reply was swift from the steely-eyed man at Rathbone’s right. “Agreed.”
With a stiff bow, Rathbone said, “Please continue, Your Highness.” He straightened his waistcoat and resumed his place.
Mina swallowed hard, realizing what Rathbone had just done for her. He’d publicly denounced the steward of their land, not to mention punched him unconscious. He, the man whose voice and opinions everyone respected above all others, had just declared the steward no longer trustworthy. And the second high counselor, Lord Maksim, had concurred, removing the steward from their trust and their counsel. This meant any allies Thorwald held in the room would be committing political suicide to stand with him now.
Clearing her throat, she continued. “Sienna has been bestowed with a gift from the hartstone, it is true. And she’s not burned one innocent man alive, only the vampires set upon her forest to do her harm along with those she loves. That includes Nikolai, former lieutenant to the Glass Tower’s Royal Guard. I was also under the protection of the Black Lily. They’ve all allied together against the army the queen and her son are amassing.”
“Your Highness,” said the deep, gravelly voiced Lord Maksim at her back. “We are thankful for this information, but what petition do you have?”
His countenance was as dark and stormy as his voice. He and Lord Rathbone were dear friends besides being high counselors together of the House. He was a no-nonsense kind of man, which also made his loyalty invaluable. He wasn’t a man to be persuaded to anything other than what was right and best for the land of Arkadia. She couldn’t be sure, but she hoped Rathbone had apprised him of today’s proceedings and that he was fully on board.
“Thank you, Lord Maksim. Here it is.” Lifting her eyes to the tiers of lords who held her fate in their hands—everyone’s fate for that matter—she said, “I petition this most reverent House to bestow upon me my birthright. To crown me as the sovereign Queen of Arkadia.”
Loud murmurs and grumbling swept the chamber. Lord Rathbone hammered the gavel several times as one of the lords in the lowest tier stood.
“Lord Hanson, you have the floor,” said Rathbone.
“Your Highness,” he began respectfully. “By what right do you ask for this petition now?”
“By what right do you keep it from me?”
She kept her voice level and steady even as her knees trembled. She needed these men behind her. To claim the crown wasn’t enough. She must have a kingdom behind her or it was pointless. She must not cower but show strength.
“Begging your pardon,” Lord Hanson continued, “but you have laid out before us that you have as much allied with the Black Lily, the exiled prince, and this Bloodguard.”
Friedrich raised his hand. “And don’t forget the exiled Duke of Winter Hill.”
Now the murmurings escalated to new heights. They obviously saw Friedrich and understood his reason for being here, and yet not until he made it quite clear where he stood did they react.
“As you can see, Lord Hanson,” she continued, stepping from behind the podium but remaining on the dais, her hands folded demurely before her, “factions of the Varis family are breaking away from the queen. But let me answer your first question.” Her voice rose, and she sensed an internal fire sparking to life, tingling along her skin like a magical mantel to protect her, to guide her. “I have the right to petition for my immediate coronation because I am Vilhelmina Dragomir, daughter of the just and rightful King Holland Dragomir. The blood that flows in my veins flowed in that of our founding father, my great-great-grandfather King Thormand Dragomir, who conquered this territory and claimed it for his people, the only kingdom still not under the tyrannical rule of the Glass Tower.” She spoke treason against the queen, and yet it felt more like victory. “As the last living descendant of Thormand Dragomir, I am your rightful sovereign of this great land, and I pledge my life to rule as my father did before me.”
Her voice had reached a fever pitch, roaring to the height of the dome. Lords lifted up their scepters and banged them on the stone, cheers swelling high.
“Hold!” Lord Grable of the Pierson Province stood and raised his hand.
Lord Rathbone hammered the gavel again.
“Your Highness!” The knocking of the scepters on the floor dimmed, giving this particular vampire lord due respect. “You are correct. You are our rightful sovereign. But is it your intention to force us into war against the Glass Tower? I admire the heart of the human army of the Black Lily and these few men of the Bloodguard, but this force of her vampire army along with King Dominik’s is too formidable.”
“My lord, I cannot and will not force anyone to do anything. I am not the tyrant Queen Morgrid.” She emphasized the last with vehemence. “But mark me well. War is coming. If you ignore this call, you will fall, just as the Black Lily will without the help of the Arkadians. You will lose more than your queen into the hands of King Dominik, for I can promise you I will die before I become his wife.”
She caught the slightest movement of Mikhail below her, his hands fisted at his sides. She continued.
“The queen will not be satisfied until she owns us all under the dark veil she plans to spread over our lands. Until our soil is soaked in the blood of your wives and sons and daughters. The blood of my people.” She pressed a fist to her heart. “Do you really want to wait until that shadow falls on your doorsteps—for it will should the Black Lily fail—and then you will wonder why you didn’t fight when you had the chance? When your queen asked you to.”
A hush fell upon them all. She waited, holding Lord Grable’s gaze. Finally, he lifted his scepter and raised it in the air, “Hail, Queen Vilhelmina!”
A cacophony of cheers and resounding echoes of Lord Grable reverberated in the forum, scepters pounding on the floor. Mina’s heart swelled with such love and pride she could hardly bear it. Then Lord Rathbone was at the foot of the dais, offering his hand near the steps. He had a square of cloth tucked under his arm. She let him lead her down to the hall floor while cheers continued.
He leaned in close. “Well done. You nearly had me swooning at your feet.”
“I find that highly unlikely.”
He chuckled before sobering his face for the crowd with a hand in the air. When they’d all taken their seats, he continued, “Due to the dire state of the land abroad and because a formal coronation would put our sovereign’s life at risk, we can afford no formal ceremony as Her Highness deserves. Therefore, we will proceed immediately.”
He unfolded a scrap of green silk embroidered with her sigil, the white dragon, the edges frayed from time.
“Here is the banner carried by King Thormand’s army into battle in these southern lands. The original banner that waved over the fields of victory for our people.”
He whipped it out and laid it upon the marble floor.
“Please kneel, Your Highness.”
She swallowed the lump of emotion lodged in her throat as he helped her to her knees. Lord Maksim was suddenly behind him, holding the silver scepter of the high counsel of the House. Apparently, he had been apprised of this plan somehow. Lord Maksim held the sacred scepter to the people of Arkadia. Automatically, she bowed her head as he recited a litany of words from the Arkadian Book of Order. It held the laws and rights of the people as well as the role of their sovereign ruler.
She heard hardly any of it at all, trembling where she knelt, realizing she’d done it after all. Mikhail was right. She was strong. Her voice was heard. And they believed in her. The responsibility of her new role was overwhelming and wonderful all at the same time. Destiny smiled upon her. She snapped back to what was happening when she felt the scepter touch her right shoulder.
“Do you promise to uphold the Arkadian Book of Order, to rule by law, justice, and mercy in all your judgments?”
“I solemnly promise.”
He touched her left shoulder with the scepter. “And will you uphold your oath of loyalty to the people of Arkadia, vowing upon your heart and soul?”
“I will.”
He touched her right shoulder again.
“By the heavens above, under this sacred roof, and before the eyes of the House of Arkadia, I pronounce you Vilhelmina Dragomir, only child of King Holland, the sovereign Queen of Arkadia.” He pounded the scepter with one heavy thwack upon the floor. “Hail, Queen Vilhelmina!”
Once more, joyous voices arose. Lord Rathbone lifted her to her feet. Friedrich was at her side, bowing deeply.
A rumble of marching feet could be heard coming up the outer steps. The sudden joy in the air was squelched by the rhythmic pounding of boots entering the double doors of the hall.
“Oh, hell,” Rathbone whispered, grabbing hold of Mina’s arm.
“Bloodguard!” Mikhail bellowed. “Front!”
But rather than ready themselves into attack mode, the two rows simply pivoted and faced one another, leaving the space between open as if they welcomed the army, which could only be the queen or king’s army stomping closer.
Through the archway and out of the shadowy vestibule marched three lines of black-clad men. Wait, and there was one woman on the front row. They weren’t Legionnaires. They were Bloodguard soldiers. Dmitri at the front of the line. And they just kept coming. Mina swiveled to Mikhail, who still had not once looked at her through this entire interlude.
They marched in their single file columns till the first row halted where Mikhail and Gregoravich made up the front of the line. Mina stared in awe. There had to be at least two hundred of them within the chamber, and she couldn’t see the end of them disappearing out of the forum archway.
That was when Mikhail stepped forward to stand directly in front of her. He knelt onto one knee.
“Queen Vilhelmina. As Captain of the Bloodguard, I hereby formally offer the services of our full force.”
As one, the Bloodguard knelt in perfect unison. Forty of the men had pledged their fealty in Silvane Forest, but that wasn’t nearly the full force.
She smiled down at Mikhail, “Captain, we need to talk.”
“Indeed.” He smiled back and stood, gazing down at her. “Your Majesty.” He gestured toward them. “Will you walk with me and examine your troops?”
She nodded. Hands clasped at his back, he led her toward the front row. They parted with a smooth movement, stepping aside, then pivoting to face inward. Dmitri winked as she passed. The female guardsman seemed familiar somehow. With a salute of their fists to their hearts, they bowed their heads in respect as she and Mikhail walked side by side, Rathbone, Friedrich, and Maksim behind them. As they exited through the archway and the vestibule then out through the open double-doors, Mina’s jaw fell open. The black-clad Bloodguard extended in a perfect quadruple line down the stone steps of the Grand Forum. Beyond the steps was a row of guardsmen on horseback, circling the forum and lengthening down the main cobblestone street of Arkadia.
Shopkeepers poked their heads out of their shops. Women of the aristocracy on their way somewhere had stopped in their tracks, pointing and whispering. One fanned herself furiously, sending her blond ringlets swinging.
“How many?” Mina asked, still in disbelief. Though why, she wasn’t sure. Mikhail continued to surprise her.
“Five hundred strong, Your Majesty.”
“Five hundred Bloodguard?” asked Friedrich at Mikhail’s side, incredulous. “Damn it, Mikhail. One guard is worth five regular soldiers. At the very least. This isn’t a secret you needed to keep from us.”
“On the contrary, Your Grace. Information is key to winning any battle. But it was time to assemble.” He turned away from the magnificent view of his Bloodguard force, gazing down at her with a look she’d seen before. A heady mix of need, adoration, and something stronger. “We are ready to face Queen Morgrid, Your Majesty.”
The tolling of bells from a distant tower drew all eyes toward the hills. It echoed into the square in a distinct repetition of gongs. Two short, one long. Mina turned to Lord Rathbone.
“How could the town know of the coronation?” she asked.
He stepped forward. “That’s not the toll for coronation.” His brow pinched into a frown.
They all followed his gaze. Beyond the hills to the north, the clouds coalesced into a dark, heavy mass, swirling violently.
“A snowstorm is coming.”