Daughter of Regals Read Online Free

would league
together against the third—or against me.
    When the arrival was
finished, the great doors were closed, and the musicians
struck up a lively air of welcome. The sounds of talk began to rise toward my
window. The rulers stirred where they stood without changing their positions;
and the other guests flowed in conflicting directions around the walls, seeking
safety, favourites, or excitement. Not raising his eyes from the scene, Mage
Ryzel murmured, “It is time, my lady.”
    Is it,
forsooth? I responded to myself. From the moment when I joined that gathering,
my future would rest squarely in my open hands, exposed to every conceivable
assault—and preserved by no power or beauty or love, but only by my own
resources. An altogether fragile estate, as Ryzel had often deigned to inform
me. Yet I had found that I did not envy those who were not in my place. When
the Mage at last looked to me for my answer I discovered myself able to smile.
    “Time
indeed,” I said. “Let us go.”
    Glowering
because he did not approve—perhaps of me, perhaps of himself—he turned and
strode along the passage toward the head of the formal stair, which stretched
from this level down into the ballroom.
    I
followed at a little distance, so that I would not be seen from below before he
had announced me.
    His
appearance cast an instant silence over the assemblage. The music stopped; all
conversation ended; every eye was raised toward him. He was beyond question an
unprepossessing figure, yet his influence was felt in every corner of the Three
Kingdoms. And the Sceptre he held would have compelled respect in the grasp of
a child. He did not need to lift his voice to make himself heard down the
length of the stair and across the expanse of the hall.
    “Monarchs
and Mages” he said in a dry, almost acerbic tone. “Lords and ladies. All true
friends of the Regals—and of the realm. This is the night of Ascension, when
old things become new. I give you the lady Chrysalis, daughter of the
Phoenix-Regal and by his command heir to the rule of the Three Kingdoms.”
    A brave
speech: one calculated to fan the doubts of my ill-wishers. It was not a
flourish of trumpets, but it pleased me nonetheless. When Ryzel began to make
his lone way down the long stair, I waited where I could not be seen in order
to reinforce those doubts—waited until the Mage had descended into the
ballroom, walked out into the centre of the hall, and turned to present his
Sceptre toward my coming. Only then did I go to stand at the head of the stair.
    The
guests reacted with a sudden murmur—muffled expressions of surprise, approval,
disapproval, perhaps of my person or dress, perhaps of myself. But it was
quickly stilled. And in the silence I found that I could not say the words of
welcome and confidence, which I had prepared for the occasion. Hidden by white
muslin, my knees were trembling; and I knew that my voice would betray me.
Mutely, I remained motionless while I promised the memory of my father that I
would not stumble as I descended the stair.
    By no
shift of his hands or flicker of his face did Ryzel express anything other than
certainty. He almost seemed to dare the gathering to utter one breath of
impatience. Grateful for that, I summoned my courage and started downward.
    With
such slow dignity as I could muster, I went to meet those who wished me dead.
    When I
saw that in fact I was not about to stumble, I smiled.
    As I
gained the foot of the stair, a man concealed at the rear of the crowd called, “Hail
the coming Regal!” But no one seconded his shout.
    Then
Mage Ryzel’s expression did change. Frowning dangerously, he lowered his
Sceptre, folded it to his chest, and began to clap applause for me.
    At
first tentatively, then with more strength, the guests echoed his welcome.
Unsure as they were of me—and of their own future standing—the consequential
people of the Three Kingdoms feared to insult me directly in Ryzel’s presence.
    As