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“I love the way I look in it,” I said truthfully. “It makes me feel beautiful.”
“Because you are!” Hope said, as if it was self-evident.
“Then you’ve answered your own question, my dear,” Mercy said, while walking with determined steps towards the door. “If you like it, if it makes you feel confident, and so long as it’s not indecent, then wear it, and fuck whatever anyone else thinks. Let’s go. We have a coronation to attend, and our men to drive to distraction.”
Chuckling, I cast one final look at myself in the mirror, marveling at the amazing hairdo Hope had done for me, braiding only the upper half of my hair and weaving jewels through it. Taking a fortifying breath, I followed the others out.
We arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall with a few minutes to spare before the beginning of the ceremony. The guests, comprised of the entire Xeldar Clan, the Leaders of every clan and their spouses, foreign dignitaries from allied or friendly planets—including Veredia, Korlethea, Xelix Prime, Dantor, Avea, and Sarenia—had already entered the Great Hall and taken their seats. Unfortunately, as he had forewarned, Prince Zerien had not been able to return in time for the coronation. The hunt for the traitors in their midst only months away from his own ascension was commanding all his attention and resources.
We were talking in hushed voices when Krygor finally stepped out of the small chamber adjacent to the Great Hall, followed by Ganek. He nodded at Mercy and me before escorting his wife inside. Ganek winked at me, then gave his arm to Mercy and escorted her inside as well. Moments later, Keran came out, flanked by Tagar and Nowik.
Although they had previously been Ravik’s personal guards, as he was stepping down from the role, he had permanently assigned them to Keran, who couldn’t have been happier. Same for me. Where his two guards wore their formal warrior uniform made of dark leather embroidered with the Xeldar emblem, Keran was barefoot and naked, aside from a short, magnificently stitched skirt made by combining pieces from the hides of the various lethal creatures he had defeated over the years. A large and elaborate necklace made of the teeth and bones of similar beasts rested on his bare chest. To complete the tribal outfit, a heavy crown interweaving horns and tusks rested on his head. He looked like a barbarian from ancient times, or a vengeful god descended amidst mortals to pass judgment.
And he was hot as fuck!
In the past three weeks, he had regained the majority of his muscle mass. In all the ways that mattered, Keran was fully back to his old self. My mouth watered at the sight of the battle scars adorning the bulging muscles of his chest, arms, and thighs. When Maheva had healed him of the ravages caused by the Kranax Beetle larvae, he’d insisted she not take away the visible battle scars that otherwise covered his body. I’d rolled my eyes at this silly vanity. And yet, I was the first to enjoy licking each and every one of them in the privacy of our chamber.
By the savage look he cast my way, Keran was also quite enjoying the view. I silently thanked Mercy for not allowing my insecurities to make me change into something more demure. He stopped in front of me, cupped my face with both hands, and gave me a possessive kiss that had my knees wobbling.
Too soon, he pulled away, leaving me feeling bereft. Without a word, he turned to face the large doors to the Great Hall and started heading towards them. I followed three steps behind him, as Mercy had taught me, and the guards closed the march another four steps behind me. The two guards manning the doors opened them upon our approach. As soon as they started parting, the sound of tribal drums filled the air followed by a wordless chant by the Braxian males in attendance, punctuated by a guttural shout every four beats.
Although they wore proper pants and footwear, the males were all bare-chested aside from a sash bearing their clan’s emblem hooked on their left shoulders and running across their torsos. I felt tiny between the countless rows of giant pureblood Braxians on both sides of the aisle. My skin erupted in goosebumps as they slapped their chests with their fists with each guttural shout.
Despite the natural light flooding the dark-colored room through the giant wall-to-ceiling windows, fire burned in the torches on the walls, located a meter below the tall banners of every clan hanging above them.
Straight ahead, in front of an even larger banner bearing the Xeldar crest, Ravik sat on his massive throne of bones. Mercy stood to his right, holding a cushion upon which rested some kind of jewelry. Ganek stood to his left, also holding a cushion upon which rested a bejeweled blade. In a half circle in front of him, six on each side of the aisle, his Council members stood in front of the stone stools that rose from the floor in the rare instances Ravik held his Council meetings here instead of in his private chamber. They were facing us as we approached. Unlike the rest of the attendance, they weren’t chanting or slapping their chests.
As we closed the distance with the throne, I finally spotted the foreign dignitaries sitting in the first three front rows on each side, with the wives of the Councilors, as well as Mercy’s and Ravik’s hybrid offspring.
The drums and the chanting went silent at the same time we stopped a couple of meters in front of Ravik’s throne. He rose to his feet and gestured for the crowd to sit. They complied, the silence only disturbed by the rustling of fabric. Unlike everyone else, Krygor—who had been standing in front of the first Council stone stool on the left—walked into the open circle between the throne and the Council, where Keran stood, with me a few steps behind and slightly off to his right.
Ravik walked down the two steps from his throne and stopped face to face with his son, within touching range.
“Jakar Keran Xeldar, firstborn son of Magnar Ravik Xeldar, why have you come before us on this day?” Krygor asked in a solemn voice.
“I am here to claim my birthright, the throne of Braxia,” Keran said in a firm tone.
“Ravik Xeldar, ruler of Braxia and firstborn son of the late Sigmer Xeldar, you have heard your firstborn’s claim. Do you accede to his request?”
“I do and proudly relinquish my throne to my son Keran,” Ravik said in a booming voice.
The love in his eyes as he gazed upon his son turned me upside down. And yet, a sliver of worry fluttered in my stomach as I forced myself to keep my head straight and look at the ritual.
“Does anyone here wish to challenge this request or this concession?” Krygor asked in a powerful voice to the attendees.
Like in a traditional human wedding, now was the moment that someone could issue an ultimate challenge to his rule. When continued silence responded to his words, all tension bled out of my spine as Krygor returned his attention to the father and son.
“Keran’s claim is granted,” Krygor said before nodding at Ravik and returning to his seat.
“For thirty-five years, I have led this great nation that has remained unbent, unbowed, even in the face of many adversities. Today, it is with great honor that I pass on this duty to my son, with both its burdens and triumphs, confident that he will lead us into a new era of greatness,” Ravik said.
Although he stared at Keran as he spoke, he was really addressing the attendees. He gestured at Ganek, who promptly approached. He stopped next to his brother and father and presented the cushion with the bejeweled blade to his sire. Ravik took it before extending a hand to Keran. He quietly placed his palm, face up, in his father’s open hand. Ravik sliced a gash in the center of his son’s palm, then put the blade back onto the cushion. Keran remained stoic and merely closed his hand into a fist over the dark red tiles covering the floor. He squeezed, allowing blood to trickle from his wound onto the floor.
“Blood is life. Blood is death,” Keran said in a solemn voice. “It is my oath that I will give the last drop of my blood to the protection of Braxia and all its people. With the Ancestors and this honorable attendance as my witnesses, I swear to spill the blood of anyone who shall threaten our people or our allies until none of them remain.”
As one, the Braxian males in the audience shouted “Ah-hoo” in response to Keran’s words.
He reopened his hand, leaving the palm up. Ravik wetted his thumb in the glistening blood before smearing a small amount across Keran’s forehead.
