Shyshaker Princess

Chapter Fifteen - Ascension and Coronation

Part One: Snows Fall

Chapter Fifteen - Ascension and Coronation

POV - Imogen Pendle

It was hard to look dignified and dainty when sweating profusely, Imogen concluded. Hawmere Castle was stuffed to the gills with people talking, dancing and laughing at the new King's Coronation. The music of the Hawmere family – lilting and full of wind instruments – filled the castle corridors as the overspill of people from the throne room clinked glasses of wine and talked of the handsomeness and capability of their new king.

To Imogen, it all seemed horribly odd, as if she was existing in a dream world where the courtiers were instructed on how to act by strings tied to their mouths. Understandably, servants of the castle were not permitted into the throne room. Dusk had fallen and the healers were now only used to encourage water on the drunken courtiers. Within half an hour of the party's beginning, Imogen had tucked one of her tamer curls behind her ear and entirely ditched her duties, disappearing among the crowd.

In the torchlight, surrounded by the merriment of music, food, and joy, it was easy for the people of Ellesmere to lose themselves in the party that was going on both within the Castle and in the city centre at the marketplace. Near where her mother's home had once stood.

But Imogen Pendle knew that she had only one purpose here tonight.

She weaved through the crowd, back straight and smiling.

Your smile is enough to shame the stars, her mother had told her. Imogen had never believed her, but tonight, she relied on it to distract the nobility from her plain garb. Her brown healer's apron was now firmly tucked inside a suit of arms. She still wore a fresh pair of tanned gloves, her blackened left-hand had not gotten worse, but it was far from better. The last thing she needed was for anyone to comment on her High Witch's mark.

In Ellesmere, her looks were exotic, with tanned, freckled skin and wily dark hair that spoke of her father's possible heritage from across the waters from Ellesmere Bay. As a child, it had made her stick out as much as her witchhood had and tonight the nobility looked at her twice with interest in their eyes as she slipped into the throne room with ease.

It was impossibly crowded.

Could these people not feel the heat? The stifling warmth that should tell them that their Skyshaker Queen had now been missing for several weeks was potent in the air. The people danced and glanced at their new King, high on the alter perched in the sacred Hawmere throne thought to be carved from the Tree of Knowledge, with love and devotion.

Imogen felt a sense of unease sweep over her as she watched the blind happiness of the Ellesmere people. The same people who had brutally mourned for their Queen weeks ago and had remarked on Athlaya's absence at the funeral with suspicion were now drunk and merry once more.

Daimos was dashing, his black hair gleaming in the torchlight. Imogen could not bear to look at him for long as anger welled in her stomach. It was her bond with Athlaya speaking then, an allegiance her magic felt before she had met the princess in person.

Rather than risk blinding herself by gazing at the King like the fawning courtiers, Imogen slipped behind the rear food table. The feasting had gone on for hours, the tables were drawn back for dancing and re-laden with dried meats, fruits, and cake platters. No one seemed to despair that farms across the kingdom had failing crops due to the heat and they were becoming reliant on imported water from the islands nearer the continent. No one at all.

It did not take long before Imogen found what she was looking for.

Prince Brite's lip was still swollen as he smiled dutifully at the group of young ladies who surrounded him. Anyone with eyes could see that he was disinterested, but when the prize was the heart of a prince, the girls would not back down quickly.