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Elma could hardly moveunder the weight of her coronation garments. She had unthinkingly worn her usual woolen underclothes, not considering the layers of fabric that would be draped around her for the next several hours. Over her gown was a surcoat of silk and embroidery, and draped over her hips was a belt of golden discs that must have weighed ten pounds on its own. Over that, she wore a flowing robe in gold and black, and finally, the fur-lined coronation robe.
She placed the back of her hand on her cheek in an attempt to cool it. She considered asking someone to do something with the fire, but if she could not endure a little heat in a too-warm room, how could she hope to rule a kingdom?
The room was quiet. She, Rune, and Godwin waited in a small antechamber attached to the throne room, where the denizens of the citadel gathered to watch the coronation ceremony. The advisors were already seated, no doubt, as was Elma’s extended family. She wondered if Cora’s family had managed to come — she had extended an invitation, of course, but the day-to-day lives of those in the city of Frost were as vague and unknown to Elma as those in Ordellun-by-the-Sea.
As if Elma’s thoughts had summoned her, a door opened, and Cora’s head peered through. “May I come in?” she asked.
“Please,” Elma said, holding out her hands, desperate for friendship. A steady presence, someone familiar.
Cora approached and curtseyed but did not take Elma’s hands. Instead, she bowed her head and said, “I have what you requested, Majesty,” and held out a rolled-up scroll of paper.
Trying not to dwell on the sinking of her heart, Elma took it and forced a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I won’t need you during the coronation. You may go and sit with your family if they’re present.”
Her maid curtseyed again and fled the room.
Godwin caught Elma’s eye, nursing a goblet of spiced wine and staring out at the snow. He raised one grey-flecked eyebrow.
“You may go, Uncle,” Elma said, standing firm. She knew he wanted to ask what the scroll was but was too proud to ask. And she could not tell him, as much as she loved him. Asmuch as she wanted to trust him. He was too entwined with the advisors, too much a part of their web.
Only Rune could be trusted. And even then, only with her life.
“You’ve memorized the words,” Godwin said, holding Elma’s gaze.
“Yes, Uncle.”
“And you know the—”
“Iknow, Godwin. I’m ready.”
He stepped toward her, gripping her arms in his large, rough hands. Even in his finest raiments, Godwin still looked as if he had just come in from the citadel battlements — jagged and frosted, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deep and constant. “You are your father’s daughter,” he said. “You are strong, unbending, unyielding. You were born for this.”
And just like that, he was gone.
Firelight danced in the grate. A terrible itch grew on Elma’s back, between her shoulder blades. She could hear the trumpet fanfare in the throne room, the shuffle of feet finding their seats. The coronation raiment hung heavy, so heavy on her shoulders.
Rune shifted where he stood. “Are you going to open it?”
Elma sighed. “I feel as if… if I open it, whatever I see inside will become real.”
“And it’s not real now?”
“No.”
The assassin held out his hand, his gaze soft in the snow-muffled light. “Give it to me.”
Wordlessly, she handed him the scroll. He unfurled it without fanfare or pause and scanned it with a slightly furrowed brow. Then he folded it several times and handed it back to her.
She read it slowly, the words barely registering as she did.It was a list of conversations overheard, of monetary transactions between Rothen and Slödava and where to find them. A promise of more, should Elma ask for it.
“It’s clear evidence,” Rune said, bringing voice to Elma’s thoughts. “Bertram and Ferdinand won’t have a chance of contesting it. Cora has more hidden away. After the coronation, with that evidence… no one will be able to contest an arrest.”
“An execution,” Elma said, staring into the flames.
“If that’s what my bloodthirsty queen so desires.”
She glanced at Rune sidelong. “I am anything butyours.”
He grinned, but something tugged on the corners of it, weighing it down. “If it makes you feel any better, Majesty, I am nothing if not yours.”
