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Which is true. As his Marionette, of course I’ll be at his coronation, but in all the wrong ways.
Though he looks like he wants to say more, he leaves without another word.
“I wonder how long they’ll wait after he’s crowned to move ahead with the wedding,” V muses behind me. “My guess is a week.”
Pain flares up my jaw from clenching it so tightly, but I don’t snap at her the way I want to. Because she very well could be right.
All these moments with just the two of us have made it easy to forget what’s happening. We’re just Valerie and Reid. Partners. Friends. Our dynamic not quite what everything inside of me is yearning for, but not that different from the way things were before the bunker.
But if this moves forward…if he actuallymarriesher…
I swallow hard. Then I couldn’t afford to forget anymore.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Today will beone for the history books. Not just because Reid is taking the throne, but as far as I know, this is the first time a coronation has taken place in an estate other than the monarch’s own. And with how jam-packed Auclair is these days, it’ll probably be the coronation with the largest attendance to date.
There’s a different uniform for Marionettes on occasions like these, basically a fancier version of what we usually wear. The black material is nicer, thicker, looking more like a suit than athletic gear. The bodice is tight, the straps thinner, and I wriggle around, trying to shimmy it higher onto my chest, but it still rests lower on my boobs than I’d like, leaving little to the imagination. A long, thin skirt attaches at the waist to make it look more like a dress than a uniform, but the fabric is easy to tear away if need be, the standard formfitting pants beneath.
I check my phone for the hundredth time tonight, but no response from my friends. They’re coming in from the academy to attend the coronation, as a lot of the York kids are doing, and I asked a few hours ago if they wanted to swing by early to get ready together.
Anxiety buzzes along my skin at the sight of my blank screen. Not responding is unusual for them, especially Kirby. She usually texts back right away. Even Adrienne isn’t here yet, leaving me standing in the middle of her room, alone, wringing my hands and wondering if I should do something different with my hair. It’s down in loose curls, my eyeshadow smoky and my lipstick bloodred.
I tug the hoops out of my ears, the tightness in my chest growing, and replace them with small gold balls instead, and it finally occurs to me the anxiety isn’t all mine.
Reid.
Of course he’s nervous about tonight. He usually cuts the bond off from me when he’s feeling this way though, so if it’s spilling through, it must be really bad.
Forcing one foot in front of the other, I step into the hall and head for Reid’s room. As his partner, it’s customary for me to accompany him today, though it’ll be nothing like our pairing ceremony had been. Then, our partnership had been the focus. Tonight, I’m little more than an extension of the shadows, there to ensure his safety.
When I knock, the door immediately swings open, Reid standing on the other side in a suit dark as night, his hair disheveled as he runs a hand through it then readjusts the gold crown. It’s the last time he’ll wear this one.
“I was about to come get you,” he says.
I don’t know what makes me do it—the unrelenting static in the bond, maybe—but I take a step forward and wrap my arms around his waist. He folds into me like he can barely keep himself upright. I hold my breath so I won’t breathe in his scent. I try not to let myself melt into the warmth of his touch or how perfectly I fit against his chest, but I fail. The moment we make contact, I’m already dreading when I’ll have to let go.
“It’ll be okay,” I say.
He nods, arms tightening around me for a moment before we straighten and step away from each other, putting a perfectly professional amount of distance between us. But his gaze lingers on me, slowly dragging from my feet to the top of my head, and I feel it as clearly as his hands against my skin.
Wordlessly, he nods for us to walk, but it’s through the bond that he murmurs,You’re breathtaking.
And you look like a king.
A shuddering breath passes his lips at the word, and he adjusts his tie.
And you’ll be a good one too, I add, softening my mental voice.The kind we need right now.
He meets my eyes, his forehead creased and the corners of his lips tight. We pause as we near the corridor that leads to the ballroom. Conversation and footsteps already fill the air, along with the humming lilt of the musicians. He lets out another breath and faces forward.
I hope you’re right.
* * *
The streamof guests comes and goes. If history’s any indicator, the celebration will last long after the sunrise, though this is the first coronation I’ve been alive for. The monarchs from our allying estates attend, as well as a few representatives, though the estates who have pulled out are noticeably absent, leaving the rest of the crowd to be mainly populated by residents of the Carrington and Auclair estates.
Despite the cheers and laughter and dancing and music, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this miserable at a party. I linger near the dais along with a few other Marionettes, eyes sweeping back and forth for any hint of a threat.
