Tulips

Chapter 11

Louis reached across the table, in front of the table and grabbed the pepper, his mouth chewing a chunk of fish.

"You could have just asked me to pass it to you," Adelaide snipped, the heaviness of morning settled in her head.

Her husband shrugged. It had been a week since their wedding, most of their friends had moved onto Milan. Adelaide had spent the time finding her bearings in the palace, the court of strangers was an ocean that she felt she was drowning in. The complex dynamics and friendships all seemed warped and magnified compared to the social interactions she was used to. It felt as if every new conversation she had with someone made her like she was a child babbling in a circle of adults whom all found her rambling incredibly amusing. Louis was no relief to this embarrassment, he walked around this habitat fully comfortable and charming to all the people whom he knew so well. No aide was offered to help her navigate the hoard of swirling faces. The table was decked with an assortment of food, they were surrounded by many of the wait staff who watched the couple, ready to jump in to serve anything from the selection.

The door slammed open, a group of people with flushed faces ran in and knelt in front of them. Adelaide looked to Louis; his face was as still as stone. He wouldn't let himself cry. She stood up and curtsied to him, bowing her head to him.

"Your majesty."

Louis stood at the centre of the cathedral; the crown was held above his head by the Archbishop. It was adorned with squared jewels; it was made of a large band and twists of metal that looked like fancy clubs you would find on playing cards. Adelaide was sat on a throne that looked down the cathedral, it was the small throne of course. Upon her head was a silver tiara decorated with shiny green emeralds, it had belonged to Louis' mother. The late queen had started her life beautiful and happy, her marriage successful, her young healthy son. And then overnight she became deranged. Paranoia, insanity, bleakness shrouded her every thought. She was sent away to a doctor, tucked away from the world. Louis was six when she died. Adelaide watched intently as a series of proclamations were made. Louis looked absolutely regal. With the cloak hung over his shoulders, the sceptre in his hands, the crown on his head his chiselled jaw squared. The sight was truly august.

Tears rolled down Adelaide's cheeks. Everything she believed in, the institution she dedicated her life to, right in front of her. The ceremonious manifestation of royalty. Magnificent.