Stories Told in an Hour

Lineage

A queen is crowned. TW: deadnaming, misgendering, vague mention of death.

The dying queen's handmaiden carried a velvet pillow, and on the pillow sat a simple silver circlet, a teardrop-shaped ruby hanging from the crux of the braided metal.

"This," she said, her voice carrying easily in the dead silence of the massive courtyard, "is the Crown of the Decision. Placed on the head of the true heir to the throne, it will begin to shine, revealing Attaleia's next queen. Come when you are called up, and kneel."

She read off a list of names then, beautiful and strange names that sounded like music. I squirmed a little in my seat. Was my proper name on the document? Or would they read my old name and throw me out?

"Jos-" The handmaiden's voice faltered. My skin crawled. "Joseph of Bostonia. Is there a man in our midst?"

Wincing, I stood. "No, my lady," I said. "I was formerly called Joseph. The records of me are wrong, my lady. I am Clarissa of Bostonia, and I am a woman."

The handmaiden gazed evenly at me for several moments, then nodded smartly. "Very well. Clarissa of Bostonia!"

I shouldered my way through the crowns, walked down the aisle, knelt at the podium.

The circlet was cool, and somehow the metal didn't get caught in my curls. I closed my eyes, tried to make my breathing even.

Over the rushing of blood in my ears, I barely heard the gasps. I did hear the handmaiden silence the crowd. Her fingers lifted my chin and my eyes opened.

Her face was so close to me that I could see my reflection in her pupils. The circlet glowed with a faint, golden light. Her voice was a whisper. "Stand up, child."

I had knelt as a commoner. I rose as a queen.