"Impudent!" "Balderdash!" Heinrich and Leonhard snapped in unison.
I raised my hand to signal them to stand down and turned to my cousin Drake: "Drake, do you see that short camel?"
Drake strained to look, his small eyes squeezed into slits by his girth: "Where is there any short camel?"
I feigned realization, tapping my chin with my finger: "I must have been mistaken. That's the horse my cousin is riding."
Marcus snickered beside me, his golden-brown curls trembling with the motion: "How could the Highness be mistaken? Lord Drake is truly—as heavy as a boulder."
The surrounding nobles and guards stifled laughter, even the silver platters in the servants' hands trembled. I dispatched Marcus to confront Drake and calmly curtsied to the king on the throne: "Father, may you be in good health."
He smiled, stroking his silver beard, and began counting the day's hunting spoils—deer legs, wild boars, and pheasants spread across half the long table. I nodded in agreement, but my peripheral vision fell on my mother—she was leaning against a rosewood chair inlaid with pearls, frowning as she listened to Nurse Mary's whispers.
My heart tightened. John, my personal attendant, leaned in, the iris embroidery on his cuff brushing my hand: "Your Highness, there have been suspicious individuals inquiring after information at Nurse Mary's residence recently. I fear they were sent by the Drake family."
My fingers clutching the handkerchief tensed slightly, yet I maintained a smile: "What did they ask about?"
John's voice was as soft as wind through grass: "They asked about Nurse Mary's son."
Nurse Mary's son Lucas, my milk brother ten days my elder, was at that moment in a fencing class in the castle's west tower.
The king continued, "This stag today has antlers with five tines—" I composed myself and smiled even more brightly when I looked up: "Father is still in his prime, so naturally your hunting skills surpass mine."
The king laughed heartily, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening like gullies, but after laughing, he beckoned me closer. His hand rested on my wrist, warm and soft as a sun-dried woolen blanket: "Look, your father can barely grip a sword anymore."
My throat constricted: "Father simply no longer cares for weapons."
He looked at me, a mist in his blue eyes: "You've grown into such a capable adult, far more composed than I was at your age."
Just as I was about to step back and curtsy, he gripped my wrist, his knuckles whitening with exertion: "I am relieved to pass the crown to you."
I bowed my head in silence, the gold-threaded embroidery on my sleeve brushing his hand. When I stepped back after a moment, my skirts rustled against the marble floor.
Heinrich was suddenly standing beside a pillar, a corner of his moon-white cloak embroidered with silver patterns dancing in the wind. As he approached, he carried the scent of cedar: "Your Highness?"
I gazed at the fountain in the courtyard, where water droplets sparkled on rose petals like shattered diamonds: "Heinrich."
"Are you prepared?"
He looked into my eyes, my reflection shimmering in his gray-blue pupils. I nodded, and his Adam's apple bobbed, his voice low but firm: "At your command, always."
Three days later, when the king's abdication edict was read in the council chamber, Duke Drake's silver wine cup shattered on the floor. But the opposition was quelled by the nobles led by Chancellor Heinrich—the networks laid over the years in parliament, churches, and knightly orders had finally formed an impenetrable web. My coronation proceeded as smoothly as winter snow melting into spring water.
Five days before the coronation, a sacred ceremony was required, and the procession would cross the White Stone Bridge over the Weser River to the Ancestral Temple. Seated in a carriage adorned with gold thread, I listened to the guards' horseshoes clattering outside, unsurprised when masked knights suddenly charged from the reed marshes. Their swords cut down the guide flags and even pushed my carriage through the bridge railing into the river.
As cold water flooded the carriage, I clutched the amethyst crown in my hair and opened my eyes in the murky depths. The expected humiliation did not come—a familiar face swam toward me, Marcus's flaxen hair spreading like a golden cloud in the water.
The Marcus family had made their fortune in shipping, and he had learned to swim in the Rhine since boyhood. Now, as nimble as a trout, he wrapped an arm around my waist and swam toward the riverbed. We slipped into an underwater canal, evading the commotion on shore, and emerged from behind the reeds to find a wooden house bearing the Marcus family crest.
He shook the water from his face and grinned like a cat that had stolen cream: "As expected, Your Highness is never caught unawares. The Drake family actually thinks you're—"
I removed my soaking cloak and pressed my to his lips: "Such talk is unnecessary."
Marcus's Adam's apple bobbed, and he responded in a husky voice. I stepped behind a screen to change, my linen chemise clinging to my legs as I stood barefoot on the warm wool carpet.
He stood in the corridor holding my velvet shoes, the morning light making his eyelashes glow. I raised my hand and placed it on his lips; he froze like a statue, even his breath stilling.
"You understand my meaning," I said, lowering my hand to brush his scorching earlobe.
Marcus bowed his head, placing the shoes at my feet. When he looked up, fire burned in his eyes: "I dare not forget. For all my days, I am yours, Your Highness."
I regarded him, my skirts billowing in the wind like a blooming white rose: "Good."
"Put on my shoes."