Arlanna walks behind Sloan, and then I follow her. Gray trails behind, keeping an eye on us all, as is his custom. The four of us have settled into something that doesn’t need words to make it real. We’re a family, which is something we all desperately need right now.
Sloan is the man the three of us have been turning to for the big decisions when we’re too overwhelmed to see straight. And we are the children Sloan never took the time to have.
The violins greet us with their sad funeral dirge. The caskets of Conan and my father have been laid out since dawn so the entire world can pay their respects—some beforehand, and some after. The sea of faces all peer to get a look at us as we enter onto the platform that gets set up and torn down on the front steps of the palace for occasions such as this. There’s no venue large enough for everyone to gather, so they come to the front lawn of the palace to do their grieving, stretching down the road as far as the eye can see.
Only there’s not a tear in sight. People are craning their necks to get a good look at Arlanna and me, but no one seems to be all that sad that our fathers are dead.
It makes sense, but my heart is too heavy to do much more than simply stand at the foot of my father’s casket. Arlanna is directly across from me, her head bowed at the end of her father’s matching casket.
The men who spent their whole lives battling are laid out head-to-head in death, with their children standing at their feet.
Sloan takes his post behind Arlanna. I can feel Gray’s strength as he stands behind me. There’s a silent power by which I’m hemmed in, knowing that my brother will always have my back—even if what’s required of him is to pay homage to a man who wouldn’t even acknowledge Gray was a person.
It didn’t need to be a joint funeral, but given their deaths, and given the extreme shift of power that will be happening in both arenas, every single soul has shown up to see how the winds will blow. There’s never been a joint funeral with a royal and a civilian before. Part of me wants to smirk at the two men lying so close to one another. They wouldn’t dare stand this near to each other in life. It’s a travesty that death is the only thing that could bring them together.
One of the cabinet members gives the eulogy. The whole speech is from a book—stodgy and rehearsed, but it’s the same eulogy my grandfather was given, and his father before that, and so on.
My part is coming, though I wish it wasn’t. I don’t know how I feel about any of it. Yet here I am, about to get up and declare to the world all the things the historically-approved speech that the next in line king is supposed to say.
The podium with the microphone is abandoned too soon. Sloan gives me a nod, reminding my frozen feet that this is my hour. This is my turn to get up and assure the people that all will be well.
I walk stiffly to the podium, gripping the sides of it for too many seconds as I attempt to compose myself. I’m not crying. I saved my tears for Arlanna and Gray, for a private moment. The people aren’t used to seeing me without sunglasses, so I know they’re scrutinizing my face for details of which they’ve been deprived.
The words on the parchment before me are simple enough, but standing in front of the throngs of questioning faces, I know with utter certainty that they are all the wrong things to say.
So I crumple up the paper, ignoring the murmurs of surprise that I’m about to buck tradition before I’m even fully instated on the throne.
My voice booms out over the massive crowd. “I’m to tell you all that the kingdom is in capable hands. You’re to be assured that nothing will change, and there’s nothing to worry about. But if that’s what you came for today, then you haven’t been paying attention. There is much about our broken world that needs changing. There are many pillars that have been poorly built. They require breaking, even if it tumbles the entire structure around us.”
The murmurs might never stop. As they splinter out, I know I have to learn to ignore the people who are only unhappy because change is uncomfortable.
My knuckles are white as I grip the podium too tightly. “So if you are here because you are happy to ignore the plights of the shifters, and you are happy to have innocents pay for the crimes of their criminal parents, then my rule will be very difficult for you. I cannot bring myself to apologize for that. I can only apologize for any surprise you might be experiencing at this change. I should have made it more clear that this is who I am, and this is how I will rule.” My chin dips down. “I should have taken bolder steps when I was merely your prince.”
My gaze drifts to my father’s glass casket, to his perfectly preserved impassive expression that somehow looks disapproving still. Though, perhaps I’m only imagining that he loathes every word that comes from my mouth, even in death.
“For those of you who expected more from my father and more from me, I will do all I can to make sure our family name means more to you than wealth and power. Those things fade with time or even the changing of the wind. True goodness lasts through generations. That is the man I want to be for you all.”
I’m supposed to be putting a cap on my father’s end of the funeral, and I’m doing a lousy job. “I hope you’ll all join me in making sure your legacy of goodness stands with the one I promise to build. As we say goodbye to my father, I invite you all to examine your hearts and start your own legacy of goodness today. Let that be what my father’s death inspires in all of us.”
I don’t expect applause when I step back, but the thunderous praise rushes up to meet my words. The roar grants me the release of a winded smile I didn’t realize I needed.
Though it’s a royal funeral, time was allotted for Arlanna to say a few words to eulogize her father, as well. She is pale as she makes her way slowly through the sounds of the applause to the podium beside me. She prefers to address people on her own, and not with a man at her side. It is a wise preference which I respect too much to take from her, though no part of me wishes to separate from her side.
I move several paces to the left, making sure I’m not in any camera shots that are snapping wildly to get a good pose of the grieving beauty.
My eyes catch on Cassia and Charlotte, who are front and center, because that’s where they belong.
Cassia nods firmly, bolstering me with her belief that I can get the job done.
Charlotte grants me a sweet smile, because even if I massively fail at everything, she will still be my loving sister.
Sloan stands equidistant on Arlanna’s right, scanning the front few rows of spectators for signs of anything that might harm his charge.
His daughter.
Anyone who knows Arlanna understands that her father wasn’t the one who raised her. Maybe Conan loved her, but he raised her up in the same way a farmer raises a cow for slaughter. She was his token, his advantage to play, and finally, that game is over.
Yesterday, Sloan filed a petition to legally adopt Arlanna. Finally, the system will right the things that nature guessed wrong.
Arlanna peels the black netting up so her face is easier for everyone to see. “It’s surprising for me to see my father in the same room as the king.”
No one expects her to say anything amusing, so the chuckles are genuine as they ripple out in gentle waves over the crowd.
“It’s a great sadness that they spent their whole lives bickering over power—which of them had more and who needed it most. They both turned away from their children so they could race after something they could never grasp. They were chasing more. Always more. The two most powerful men in the world ended up dead because the bounty they were given was never enough.”