Herald of the Storm

FIFTY-ONE

There had been one hundred and twenty-six coronations in Steelhaven’s history. Governess Nordaine had tutored Janessa in the significant kings and queens of old, from the days of the Sword Kings, when the Teutonians had been but a few disparate warring tribes, right up to the establishment of the Free States. Of course, until her father had united the provinces and the city states as one nation there had still been wars and pretenders to the Teutonian throne, but the city of Steelhaven had always had a ruling monarch — a king or queen who presided over the city and its people.

Now it was Janessa’s turn. Soon, she would become Queen of Steelhaven and the Free States, but right now all she wanted to do was stop shaking.

She wore a fabulous gown too, as gowns went. The Governess had helped her select the fabrics, one from each of the provinces — satin from Braega, silk from Dreldun, lace from Stelmorn, linen from Ankavern and fur from Valdor. There were also brooches sewn into the cloth from each of the city states — copper bracelets on the sleeves, iron lining the girdle, silver leaf in the skirts and steel chains about the neck. Despite the mishmash of colour and cloth it was still a beautiful design.

Nordaine fussed with the hem, as she had done a dozen times already. Janessa guessed it was more from nerves than a need to make the gown more presentable. She had fussed so much that whatever she was trying to adjust would be fixed by now or never at all.

‘Enough,’ Janessa said, instantly regretting it as she was forced to clamp her mouth shut lest the bile rise up from her throat.

Nordaine stopped her fussing and took a step back. Janessa could see tears in the governess’s eyes and felt instant regret. She had behaved badly towards this woman, who had been like a mother to her, teaching her the proper etiquette and trying to educate her in the ways of state. Now those lessons were over and Nordaine could teach her nothing more. From now, Janessa had to learn her own lessons, make her own mistakes.

She took Nordaine’s hand, and they looked at one another. The governess would have spoken, but only a single sob came out. Before Janessa could say any words of comfort, Odaka entered the vestibule.

He no longer wore the robes she was so used to seeing him in. Now he wore slate grey armour, a helm held in the crook of his arm, a curved sword at his side.

‘Your grace,’ he said, his features grim and unyielding as they always were. ‘They are ready.’

Janessa nodded, giving her governess one last glance before walking towards the door. Two Sentinels were waiting for her, Garret himself standing further on at the archway to the great hall. He offered Janessa a reassuring smile as she left the vestibule, but it did nothing to calm her nerves.

The knights surrounded her as she came out into the King’s Hall. When last she’d been here it was empty, but now the vast space was filled with people of rank from the Free States.

Janessa could see all eyes turn towards her as she made her way through the crowd. Duke Guido Kreeler of Ankavern was the first to offer her a bow as she entered. His son Bartolomeo was absent, clearly not interested in the coronation now she had declared her intention to take the crown without need of a husband.

Young Lord Cadran of Braega was next, smiling his innocent smile, surrounded by his aunts known as the Black Roses: a gaggle of haughty-looking women who coveted the boy’s power and smothered him with their insincere affections.

There were the Lord Governors Tyran and Argus of Silverwall and Coppergate, standing beside one another as their city states did, no doubt using this rare meeting to plot their plots and fuel their greed.

And then there was the Baroness Isabelle and her son Leon. Of course they bowed in deference, but Leon barely made an attempt to hide the look of scorn on his face. Clearly the Magridas did not take well to being spurned.

Janessa focused ahead, not deigning to acknowledge any of them. Garret led the way and she was surrounded by her Sentinels, yet she did not feel entirely safe. She was exposed, under the scrutiny of strangers and a slave to events beyond her control. Everything she had strived to resist had come about, and there was no way back. The image of River’s face, that scarred beautiful face, briefly appeared in her mind’s eye but she quickly shut it out. If she thought of him, of the life they’d promised one another and would now never have, she would burst into tears. There were many gathered here who would love to see that, and there was no way she would grant them the satisfaction.

At the stone throne stood the High Abbot and the Matron Mother — the holy representatives of Arlor and Vorena. It was they who would preside over the ceremony. They who would crown her queen and defender of Arlor’s faith.

As she neared the throne, the Sentinels ahead of her stopped, turning to face one another and creating a corridor of steel for her to march through. Janessa paused at the edge of it. She knew that once she walked through that guard of honour there would be no turning back: she would have to forget her past, forget her former lover. From this day on, what she would cherish would be the Free States and its people.

She glanced back for a moment. She knew she should have retained her regal air, but she couldn’t help herself.

Odaka was standing behind her, blocking her escape and the way to freedom.

Did she want to take it, anyway? Did she want to run? She had almost run only days before, when River had offered her a way out.

Odaka looked at her impassively, but despite the emotionless look on his face Janessa felt that if she decided to change her mind, to turn and flee the great hall, he would do nothing to stop her.

Just the thought of that was enough to give her strength. To know that she really did have a choice made her decision that much simpler.

Janessa turned and walked the rest of the way to the throne, mounting the stairs to stand before the High Abbot and the Matron Mother. They in turn took a step towards her, he holding the sword of office, the Helsbayn, and she the crown her father had worn for thirty-two years.

Janessa knelt before the High Abbot, bowing her head as Odaka and Nordaine had instructed her.

‘Janessa of the Mastragalls,’ spoke the High Abbot, his voice loud and clear in the packed chamber. ‘You are here to claim the crown of Steelhaven. To take your place on the throne of the Free States, to rule its lands and its people?’

‘I am,’ she replied, trying to express some degree of authority.

‘You will be the embodiment of Arlor?’ said the Matron Mother. ‘Be his divine hand on earth, defend his faith and speak his word for as long as you have breath with which to utter it?’

‘I will,’ she said.

‘You promise to keep the Crown’s Peace, keeping safe the people and their lands and properties, seeking to start no wars, invade no principalities and usurp no titles under pain of Arlor’s divine retribution?’

‘I do,’ she said.

The Matron Mother placed the steel crown on Janessa’s head, its edge cold against her skin. ‘Then I give you the crown, that you might rule your kingdom,’ she said.

‘I give you the sword, that you might defend it,’ said the High Abbot, offering the sword as he and the Matron Mother both knelt before her.

Janessa stood, taking Helsbayn from his hands. It was heavy in her grip, its hilt worked with intricate gilding, the blade acid-etched with ancient runes from the days of the Sword Kings. The last time she had seen it, it had been in her father’s hands as he lay on the altar awaiting interment. The memory snapped at her with cold teeth, but she bit back. This was no time to think on such things. No time to brood on the past.

This was the day she would start her reign.

She turned and held the sword aloft, seeing all eyes upon her, eyes of scorn, eyes of admiration, eyes of doubt.

Garret turned to that crowd, his Sentinels doing likewise, and bellowed, ‘Queen Janessa Mastragall, Sovereign of Steelhaven and the Free States, Protector of Teutonia and Keeper of the Faith of Arlor.’

As one the assembled crowd bent its knee, repeating Garret’s words in a solemn mantra. Janessa thought that many of them would find those words bitter to the taste, but that only made it that much sweeter for her.

She had done it; she had claimed her father’s seat, and none of them would take it from her now. At least not while she still breathed.

As she watched them, kneeling there before her, she knew this wasn’t enough. Suddenly seeing these so-called nobles in supplication was empty and hollow. She was cloistered in here, kept away from her people … the people that mattered.

Due to the threats to her life, Odaka had deemed it prudent to keep the ceremony within the bounds of the palace, but tradition dictated the kings and queens of Steelhaven should be received by the city’s people upon their coronation.

Safety be damned. This was not just her day, not just the day for her noble subjects to receive her. She had to be seen, had to show the city that she was there for them, there to serve them unto death.

‘Odaka,’ she said, clutching that heavy sword to her side. ‘I will see my people now.’

He frowned, a glimmer of concern flashing across his grim features, only to disappear beneath a veneer of obedience.

‘As you command, my queen.’

He bowed and Janessa almost smiled at that. ‘My queen.’ It sounded good to her, as if she had always been waiting to hear those words.

Odaka led the Sentinels from the hall. Janessa did not even deign to look at the nobles, still on their knees, as she left the throne room. And leave it she did, a different woman from the one who had entered. She had walked into the great hall a timid girl, but left it a grown woman, and a queen to boot.

As she neared the front of the palace she could hear the crowd. They had been allowed into the Crown District, its gates flung open so that they might honour the queen’s coronation.

The city had gathered to mourn her father, coming in their droves for his funeral. The sheer multitude of that thronging crowd had done nothing to prepare her for this.

Odaka flung open the doors to the front balcony of the palace which overlooked Skyhelm’s grounds and the Crown District. Beyond the great steel gates they had come, rich and poor alike, beggar and merchant, soldier and serf.

All come to see her crowned.

And as she appeared, even from such a distance, the crowd acknowledged her. It was a cheer that went up over the city, shrouding it under a cloak of noise, filling her with pride and a sense of the task ahead.

As the deafening noise rang out over Steelhaven, Janessa Mastragall, Queen of Steelhaven and the Free States, only hoped the warlord Amon Tugha could hear it.

If he was coming to her city with murder in his heart then it was only fitting he should know what was waiting for him.