Chapter Sixty-Two
YAVARA
I struggled to sit upright in my throne as the priest before me droned on and on about the Holy Mother bestowing me with my right to rule. The seats before me were filled with hundreds of minor nobles and rich merchants, for there were no representatives of the Noble Court to witness me anymore. Perhaps it had become much less dangerous to be queen of the Highlands, but it also had become much less prestigious. To make up for the lack of nobility, I decided to conduct the ceremony in the merchant gardens instead of the castle. My throne was placed atop the hill, and the two-hundred thousand citizens of Bentius were spread out on the grassy mall below me, stretching to the very edge of the merchant district. The scars of Gorlok's attack were still very evident in the city, and even more so upon her people. Many of the attendees had missing limbs, and quite a few wore masks to hide their disfigurement. My mages would work tirelessly to heal those affected, but for the thousands of dead, there was nothing I could do.
It's not your fault.
I told myself, and hoped that in some cosmic sense it was true.
I turned my attention to more selfish concerns, and telepathically scanned the crowd for a familiar mind. I didn't find her. I hadn't expected Leveria to show up. I'd already dissolved our agreement, and with my crown tightly secured from any nobles or ambitious generals, there was no need for her. From a pragmatic perspective, her absence was likely much better for my image. Though the sight of the Dark Queen bowing before my throne would temporarily raise my standing and my ego, there was the very real possibility that it would be construed as collusion. Right now, I was trying to distance myself as much as I could from Alkandra. But I was not a pragmatist, and so I was disappointed. In truth, I missed her. Not only that, but she'd made several promises of what she'd do to me on my coronation night, and I'd found it very hard in the past week to think of anything else. I needed it. Oh god, I needed it so bad.
"Yavara!" Esmerelda hissed. If there was one thing about the rebel leader I loved (besides her tongue) it was that she never—even in front of dignitaries—called me anything other than my first name. She despised formal titles out of principle.
"What?" I whispered back.
"You were touching yourself!"
I smiled at her. "No one can see what my hands are doing in this massive dress. It has more structure than a cathedral."
"I can see!"
"Only because you're looking so hard." I winked, and enjoyed that she blushed. Esmeralda had the very alluring quirk of being a sexually-reluctant slut. Shame and trauma had done such wonderful things to her sexuality.
"Your Highness, be modest." Lady Lydia Straltaira scolded softly from the other side of my throne. Elena's mother had always been a stickler for etiquette, and so she used my title insistently. Unlike Esmerelda, however, there was nothing modest about Lydia Straltaira between the sheets. She was brazenly curious about my body, and would push her fingers into every part of me in some mad scientific effort to find out how I worked. I didn't mind in the least.
"...and on the twelfth day of creation, the Holy Mother did bestow the holy kingdom of the Highlands upon her most favored children, and the high-elves did forever tend her fields and sculpt her great hillsides. Amen," the priest finished, then cleared his throat. "Is there anyone present who doth object to the crowning of Yavara Tiadoa, first of her name?"
The gardens were silent.
The priest held up the crown that I'd already worn for the past three months, and placed it ceremoniously upon my head. "Then by the power vested in me as high priest of the Holy Order, I do declare Yavara Tiadoa, first of her name, to be the ruler and protector of the Highland Kingdom."
The attendees broke into a standing ovation, and the air filled with their adulation. They filed into the aisle, and one by one, they began their ascent up the throne. What a line they formed; god, it was going to be a long day. This was what I got for following Esmerelda's advice of being more "accessible to the people" or whatever stupid hippy shit she said. Not only was this going to be pointlessly boring, but it was also dangerous. Though I doubted any of my subjects would be foolish enough to try to assassinate me, I still scanned the mind of each person who paid tribute to me.
Don't trip, don't trip, don't trip, don't trip...
thought one dignitary right before he stumbled on the last step, and splayed out before my feet. I bid him to kiss my ring, then I watched him leave in abject humiliation.
Don't look at her tits, don't look at her tits, don't look at her tits...
thought a merchant who was doing an admirable job of keeping his gaze fixed on my face. I rewarded his chivalry by raising my ring hand just above my bosom, and allowing him a long linger down my cleavage as he kissed my ring.
God, that dress is so ugly on her. Her sister had such better taste,
thought a lesser noblewoman of the Feractianas province as she kissed my ring.
I need to piss so fucking bad!
thought a stablemaster of the Feltian province.
Do I bow, or do I kneel? Half the people are bowing, and half of them are kneeling! Is there a rule? How come nobody told me about this?!
thought a panicky young maiden as she made my way to me.
"Nobles and dignitaries bow; merchants and craftsmen kneel." I told her with a smile.
She gaped at me in shock, then fumbled with her dress, and got onto one knee.
Then I guess this fulfills my end of the bargain.
Leveria chuckled sardonically in my mind as the maiden glanced up at me to reveal a pair of blazing orange eyes.
By the way, that dress is fucking hideous.
