Chapter 110: The Announcement
The great hall of Drakwyne was a vast, windowless space carved from dark grey stone. Stone pillars lined the expansive space. Torches burned along the walls, their flames steady, filling the room with a warm but heavy glow. The air was cool, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and gathered bodies. More than fifty people stood inside the hall in clusters on the stone floor. They were mostly men.
There were the members of the ruling coven, their faces sharp and watchful. There were elders from the outlying wanderers’ cells dressed in dark-colored garments. There were leaders of wolf clans, broader and more solid in their posture, their expressions wary. A few merchants stood near the back, looking uncomfortable. Soldiers of Drakwyne were stationed around, ready to obey whatever instructions.
The atmosphere was not one of celebration but of tense waiting. Low conversations filled the room, but there was no laughter. Some men leaned close to one another, whispering. Others stood in silence, watching the large doors as if they were expecting trouble. They had been summoned, and in Drakwyne, a summons from Zareth was an order.
Everyone knew Zareth did nothing without reason, and when he summoned them into the great hall, it meant something important was about to happen.
Zareth sat on the stone throne at the far end of the hall. It was a massive seat carved from black rock and raised slightly above the floor. To his right was another throne, lower and empty.
The large iron doors of the hall open, cutting through the murmurs. All heads turned towards the entrance.
Rowena walked in. She moved at a steady pace across the stone floor, her back straight and her chin lifted. She wore a black ball gown that clung to her body, making it clear it had been tailored just for her. The fabric felt heavy and expensive. Intricate silver thread was embroidered across the bodice and down the skirts in geometric patterns. The embroidery on the dress caught the torchlight, shining subtly with every step she took. It was not excessive, but it was impossible to ignore.
Her brown hair was pulled tightly from her face into a neat bun at the crown of her head. Silver pins, tipped with small dark jewels, were driven into the bun. Her face was composed, though her eyes were alert. She was aware of every stare on her, every pause in breathing, every shift in the room.
A ripple of sound went through the hall. It wasn’t applause. It was a collective intake of breath, a murmur of surprise. Many of the men stared, not bothering to hide it. The beauty was undeniable. Some straightened as if caught off guard by her presence. A few exchanged looks, surprise clear on their faces. The coven members assessed her power. Some had seen Rowena among the coven members, but never like this. Never walking alone into the great hall. Never dressed like someone who belonged there.
Zareth stood as Rowena reached the center of the open space before him. He lifted his right hand, and the last whispers died instantly. The silence was complete.
He cleared his throat before speaking. "People of Drakwyne," He said. His voice was not loud, but it carried easily through the hall. No one spoke. No one moved. He lowered his hands and looked directly at Rowena.
"Today, I stand before you to make an announcement that will shape this kingdom."
A few men shifted uneasily, but no one interrupted him.
"I introduce to you, Rowena." He paused, letting her name hang in the air.
Rowena stood perfectly still, her eyes fixed on a point just below the dais where his feet were.
Then Zareth continued, "Queen of Drakwyne."
This time, the reaction was louder. Sharp exclamation. Some men’s eyes were widely open, jaws dropping, disbelief written on their faces. Others frowned, their jaws tightening, but they remained silent.
Rowena’s head snapped up. Her controlled expression broke. Her wide eyes locked on Zareth’s face. The word Queen registered fully. She had expected recognition for her formal role as the Vessel or witch, but this? Her mind raced so fast. Confusion flashed across her face. Her lips parted as if she might speak, but no sound came out.
Zareth met her gaze, his mouth twisting into a knowing expression. He had expected this reaction, both from her and from the assembly. He had planned for it.
Zareth’s face did not smile. He watched the room, his gaze imposing a return to silence. It took longer this time, but the muttering subsided under the weight of his stare.
He spoke again, his tone pragmatic as if explaining a logistical decision. "The throne of the Queen has been empty for years," he continued, turning back to the crowd. "That emptiness ends today."
No one spoke.
"No one has been more suitable, more deserving, or more capable of carrying what Drakwyne requires," Zareth said calmly.
He paused, letting the words settle. "I have decided to crown Rowena as the Queen of Drakwyne. As the vessel of our future, her status must be absolute."
The word vessel made a few men glance at one another, but still, no one dared to object. To question Zareth in open court was to invite immediate and severe consequences. Everyone in that hall knew it.
"I have made my decision. And my decision stands." Zareth said. He slowly looked around the hall, making eye contact with several coven members and the elders. His meaning was clear and wasn’t a proposal. It was a decree.
Zareth clapped his hands once. The sharp sound echoed through the hall. The doors opened again. Three guards marched in, their boot steps in sync. Each of them carried a velvet pillow. The first pillow held a crown made of a dull, grey-white metal like old steel. It was shaped into sharp, angular points and marked with ancient symbols. It looked heavy but simple. The second guard held a pillow bearing a scepter. It was a rod of the same metal, topped with a clenched fist gripping a dark, rough-cut gemstone. The third guard’s pillow held an amulet. It has a thick, long chain; in its center is a blue stone that glows with a steady, low light.
The guards lined up, facing Rowena. A murmur passed through the crowd when the amulet appeared. That piece had not been seen in generations.
Zareth stepped down from the dais and took the crown from the first pillow. "The ceremony will proceed," Zareth stated.
