Chapter 142: A Crown Placed by Words
Chapter 141: A Crown Placed by Words
Lyria’s POV
Baron Redwick shook his head, his expression tightening in clear disapproval as the King’s declaration settled.
"There was never any doubt," he said, his voice low but firm, "that Your Highness would be made to participate in the competition."
Duke Thorncrest exhaled softly beside me, though there was nothing light in the sound this time.
"Of course there was not," he replied. "This—" he gestured faintly toward the scrying veil, where the King still stood in composed authority, "—is merely an exercise in preservation."
Baron Redwick glanced at him.
"Preservation?" he repeated.
"Of image," Duke Thorncrest clarified, his tone smooth, though edged with something sharper beneath. "The King presents this as though it were his decision—his authority—his command. It allows him to appear in control of the situation rather than... what he truly is."
"Which is?" Baron Redwick asked, though his expression suggested he already knew.
"Cornered," Duke Thorncrest said plainly.
I stood very still between them, my gaze fixed on the scrying veil, though their words settled into me all the same.
"He cannot allow it to appear," the duke continued, "that public pressure forced his hand. So instead, he reshapes the narrative. He makes it seem as though this outcome was always within his power to grant."
Baron Redwick let out a quiet sound of distaste.
"And in doing so," he added, "he places the fault elsewhere."
Duke Thorncrest nodded once.
"Precisely. The implication is clear enough, even if it is not stated outright."
My fingers tightened faintly against the edge of the window.
"He suggests," Baron Redwick said slowly, "that Your Highness’s absence from the selection thus far has been... a matter of personal refusal."
"A choice," Duke Thorncrest added. "One that inconvenienced the court. One that disrupted order."
"And therefore," Baron Redwick concluded, his lips pressing into a thin line, "the present unrest may be attributed—at least in part—to that decision."
Silence settled for a brief moment.
Then Baron Redwick exhaled again, more sharply this time.
"A coward’s move," he said.
Duke Thorncrest inclined his head slightly.
"It is not a particularly admirable strategy," he agreed. "But it is an effective one."
Neither of them looked at me as they spoke.
Perhaps they thought it kinder that way.
Or perhaps they knew I understood regardless.
Duke Thorncrest turned slightly then, his attention finally settling on me.
"Your Highness," he said, his tone gentler than before, though no less serious, "whether they intended it or not, the King and the Queen have just positioned you as a convenient scapegoat."
The word settled heavily in my chest.
"They acknowledge you," he continued, "but not without cost. In the same breath that he claims you as his child, he makes clear that you are not... entirely legitimate in the eyes of the court."
Baron Redwick’s jaw tightened.
"And he does so before the entire kingdom," he added quietly.
Duke Thorncrest gave a small nod.
"He ensures that no one forgets it," he said. "That it becomes part of how you are seen, how you are spoken of, how you will be treated."
I swallowed.
The air felt colder now, though the window remained open as it had been moments before.
"And more than that," the duke continued, "he frames your absence as a matter of reluctance, not circumstance."
Baron Redwick frowned faintly.
"As though Your Highness had the freedom to choose otherwise," he said.
A faint, humorless breath left me.
"I s-see," I murmured softly.
Duke Thorncrest studied me for a moment, as though measuring something unspoken.
"You were wise," he said after a brief pause, "to seek knowledge of etiquette."
My gaze lowered slightly.
"It would seem," Baron Redwick added, his tone quieter now, "that such preparation will not be wasted."
I nodded faintly.
We fell silent again, our attention drawn back to the scrying veil as the King continued.
"While it is true," he said, his voice carrying clearly across the courtyard and through the open window, "that Princess Lyria has until now remained absent from the competition—"
There was a deliberate pause.
"—it must be understood," he continued, "that such absence was never intended to disrupt the natural course of events."
My fingers curled more tightly against the wood.
"It was, rather," he said, "a matter of circumstance—one which, upon reflection, should have been addressed sooner."
Baron Redwick’s expression darkened again.
"...He continues to shift the narrative," he murmured.
Duke Thorncrest did not respond.
The King went on, his tone unwavering.
"Furthermore," he said, "there has been considerable discussion regarding the nature of the prophecy itself."
At that, something in my chest tightened.
"The matter was brought before the High Priestess," he continued, "that its interpretation might be clarified."
The courtyard below remained still, every gaze fixed upon the veil.
"It has been determined," the King said, "that the prophecy does not, in fact, specify that the Moon must be a singular child."
"It speaks only," the King continued, "of one of royal descent."
A faint pause.
"And as Princess Lyria is indeed of royal blood, her position within the competition is both valid and necessary."
The words settled heavily in the air.
"Though she is illegitimate," the King added, his tone unchanging, "this does not negate her lineage."
The word illegitimate was said with emphasis.
Beside me, Baron Redwick’s expression tightened visibly.
Duke Thorncrest’s jaw set, though he said nothing.
I did not move.
"The events regarding the elimination of the previous evening," the King went on, "are therefore to be considered null."
A murmur rippled faintly through the courtyard below, though it did not reach us fully.
"And the selection shall commence anew under revised understanding," he said.
The King’s voice continued to carry, steady as ever.
"The council overseeing the competition has heard the concerns of the people," he said, "and steps will be taken to ensure greater transparency moving forward."
"Accordingly," the King went on, "the rules governing the competition shall be formally presented, so that all within the kingdom may understand the process by which the Sun shall be chosen."
A brief pause followed.
Then the Queen stepped forward.
