“Y
ou will be perfect. You will be great. You will be a just Queen.” Haven paced the length of the hall, trying to calm her rattled nerves. “You will lead them fairly. You
will
save them. By the grace of the gods, you
will.”

The distant boom of drums startled her. She stopped abruptly, her gaze lingering on the large oak doors leading to the throne
room.

“All rise,” a muffled voice said behind closed
doors.

The time had
come.

Clearing her throat, Haven smoothed her regal skirts and stepped up to the ornately carved entry. Warm afternoon light spilled across the floor, bathing her dark red dress in fire. Sparkles from her jewel-covered throat cast a dazzling pattern across her olive
skin.

Haven never thought she’d live long enough to take the throne. In a family of two older brothers, and a healthy father, it would never be expected that the eldest daughter would ascend. But it was her misfortune to be blessed with longevity. Haven had outlived much of her family, and as the idea of becoming Queen grew nearer, that blessing had only become a
curse.

She had thought of perhaps ending her life just to spare her people her inadequacy. She could try hanging herself, but the moment she was released from the noose, even if her neck broke, air would return to her lungs, and her neck would mend itself. She could slit her wrists, or even her throat, but the wounds would heal in minutes, the scars in hours. There were many ways she had contemplated death, until Haven realized something. The only thing worse than living forever without her family would be to leave her people without a Queen, especially in times like
these.

With war at their doorstep, Rythern needed a Queen, one that would not die like the rest of her family. They needed Queen Haven Fyre, one of the last remaining members of her royal lineage. Only she could lead the kingdom past this time of turmoil, or so she
hoped.

“You can do this.” She told herself, amber eyes drawn forward as two Queen’s Guard opened the
doors.

Her coronation was held in the main throne room, as per the custom. With high vaulted ceilings, large stained glass windows, and a red carpet leading up the center aisle, it was just how she’d imagined. The colors of her family hung on large banners from the walls to her left and right. Red and gold shone back at her. Candles dappled the walls and the ends of the aisles, dusting the room in a golden
glow.

For a moment Haven felt a flash of concern for the guards lining these aisles. What if one of them were to get too close to the open flame? Upon inspecting one more closely she realized there wasn’t a piece of fabric in sight. She sighed in relief. They were dressed in full Queen’s Guard
armor.

Turning her gaze from the décor, Haven basked in the warm glow of candles, tears sprung to her eyes. This was a glorious room, filled nearly to the brim with people.
Her
people – the ones she would lay down her life for. Even if, for Haven, there could be no such reality. She wished her mother were here, standing beside her most trusted advisor. She’d known Toma since birth. She couldn’t remember a time when the aged advisor hadn’t been at her father’s side. But Toma wasn’t her
mother.

Standing just in front of the throne at the end of this never-ending aisle, Toma smiled. In one hand he held a golden scepter, and in the other, a great silver sword with a beautiful handle made of gold and adorned with rubies. These things would dub her Queen of Rythern, along with the crown she assumed was hidden until the right
moment.

Blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, Haven steeled herself. She had to look strong before her people, whose eyes all rested on
her.

The perfect picture of a young but able Queen finally stopped at the end of the red carpet. Haven held Toma’s eyes for just a moment, then kneeled, her long brown hair tipping from her chest, its red ends blending with the fire of her
dress.

“Princess Haven Fyre of Rythern. We are gathered here today for your coronation.” Toma’s voice echoed over the crowd and through the great hall. All were silent as they bowed with her. “My Lady, in our greatest hour of need, do you consent to be made Queen of the kingdom, in sickness and in health, until your final hour?” A smile pricked at her lips, as she was sure it pulled at Toma’s. She knew as well as he that no sickness or injury could ever take her. She would be Queen of Rythern until old age took her last
breath.

“I do,” she said, keeping her eyes to the floor as she had been
instructed.

“Will you treat your people fairly and with justice, so long as you
live?”

“I
will.”

“Will you put down your own life for the people of Rythern if the day should ever come? And will you, My Lady Princess, lead us into the glory of battle should war ever return to the Warshard
realm?”

“I
will.”

“Rise,
Princess.”

Haven stood without question and her eyes found Toma’s, which blazed like the sunrise at dawn. Pride swelled within them. So genuinely did he care for Haven and never had he been more proud of her than in this
moment.

“By the grace given to me by all the realm and the people of Rythern, by your mother and father, Queen Denica and King Keane Fyre – I now pronounce you, Princess Haven Delyth Fyre, Queen of Rythern. Long may you
reign.”

“Long may she reign,” the people echoed
back.

Haven couldn’t help the smile that lit her face. Taking her great skirts in hand, she climbed the stairs to join Toma, who gently turned her to face the crowd. The scepter was placed in her left hand and the sword in her right. Both were cool to the touch. A moment later she was bowing again and the royal crown of a thousand rubies was placed on her head. Straightening, Haven looked to the
crowd.

Every person present echoed again, “Long may she
reign.”

As instructed, Haven turned to her Queen’s throne. Sitting there would complete her marriage to the kingdom. In a very real sense, she’d said her vows and married her husband. Though her husband was not a man, but a great country. One she never imagined would be entrusted to
her.

Turning to face her people, Haven’s gaze roamed the still crowd. She moved to sit and as she did, caught sight of a shadow moving through the rafters. But it was too late. As she opened her mouth to shout for her guards, an arrow pierced her chest. Blackness swallowed
her.

Haven awoke with a gasp. Frantic screams rang all around. Toma knelt at her side, along with two others. She blinked at them slowly, her mind still struggling to the surface. Haven had three women as her personal guard, and these beautiful ladies were two of them. Deep blue eyes met hers. Gradually she heard soothing words. Lareina, a warrior and a healer, must have been the one to pull the bloody arrow from her
chest.

“Thank you,” Haven murmured, shifting to stand. The second girl held her
down.

“Just a moment, My Lady Queen.” Blythe looked around cautiously, in a stance that blocked Haven from further
attack.

“Blythe, come now,” Haven chastised with a sigh. “If my assailant were still in the rafters you could be dead. I should be the one shielding all of
you.”

That earned her a smile from the strong-headed Blythe who, once she was sure the coast was clear, helped her majesty to her
feet.

“Thank you,” Haven breathed, smoothing her dress with her
hands.

Blythe only nodded and moved to join the protective formation that Haven hadn’t realized encircled
her.

“Are you alright, my Queen?” Toma asked, inspecting her for further
injury.

“Honestly,” Haven rolled her eyes. “This is far too much of a fuss.” She turned her eyes past her Queen’s Guard. Some had fled the throne room, while others froze in place. A few candles had been knocked asunder, but luckily no one was hurt. She was thankful that whoever made an attempt on her life seemed to be long gone. With the ordeal everyone made, she couldn’t help the embarrassment that flooded her. “Toma, how do we get these people to remember their heads and quit running about like a pack of startled
hens?”

Toma, who still seemed concerned over her person, finally looked into her eyes and understood. They needed order in the throne room so the guards could pursue her would-be assassin. “Raise your voice and they will listen, my Queen,” he nodded, gesturing to the
people.

“Alright.” Ignoring the sweat collecting in her palms, she cleared her throat and addressed the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, I will have silence in my
court.”

For a moment the noise continued, and Haven feared she hadn’t spoken loud enough. But once the moment passed there was a hush through the crowd. Their panic lulled now that the Queen, who’d clearly been shot straight in the heart, seemed to have made a full
recovery.

“Thank you,” Haven said, before hesitating, unsure of what to do
next.

“We should remove the people from the throne room, my Queen,” Toma whispered to
her.

Haven smiled and gave him a grateful look. “As you can see, I am alright. Now if we are to find my assailant, we must clear the hall.” She tried to give a grave look to the crowd before continuing. “We will continue with this evening’s festivities as planned in the ballroom where you will find plenty of wine to soothe your souls. Could I please have everyone evacuate the room in a civilized fashion?” Haven took this moment to motion to a few guards to escort the lot out of there. “I will join you
soon.”

Once the crowd seemed assured no one else was going to be targeted by flying arrows, they fled the room in a relatively organized manner. As the buzz of conversation left, Haven turned back to her guard and
advisor.

“Well done.” Toma nodded to her before moving on to a tall broad man, the head of the Queen’s Guard. She listened for a moment as Toma gave orders for a full-scale investigation, and to have the castle put under lockdown until the archer was
caught.

Haven turned back to her personal guard and friends. Lareina waited patiently with her third guard, Malka, a gifted archer in her own right with emerald green eyes and short brown hair. Blythe had yet to rejoin them, and as second in command of the Queen’s Guard, she also barked orders about securing the throne room. Haven smiled at all of them. She’d known these three since she was a child, and trusted them more than words could say. They were likely blaming themselves for her temporary injury, and she would not have
it.

“My Ladies, it appears we still have a party to throw and I am covered in blood,” she said, holding her dress out to demonstrate her
point.

“We will have to get you to your rooms then, my Queen.” Lareina smiled, placing her hand gently on Haven’s forearm. Blythe overheard their intent and rejoined
them.

“I will gather a few guards to bring with us,” Blythe said, before calling out to several of her trusted Queen’s Guard nearby. Haven recognized a few but could not recall their names. She thought to tell Blythe this was far more than necessary, but one look at the woman and Haven knew there would be no
arguing.

Once the guards were gathered, they formed a loose circle around her, Lareina always staying by her side. The group left through the back entrance of the throne room, making their way slowly to her
chambers.

Blythe seemed intent on investigating every dark corner they passed, making their usually short journey quite long and tiresome. By the time they reached her rooms, she feared the banquet would already be
over.

“Blythe,” she said, pausing as per
instructed.

“Yes, My Lady
Queen?”

“I don’t mean to rush you, but I don’t think my assailant is going to jump out at me when I’m surrounded by
guards.”

Blythe considered this, and with a quick nod she sheathed her sword. “You’re quite right, My
Lady.”

Haven was pleased to find their pace quickened, and soon she was safe in her rooms. Lareina nearly danced over to her dressing room, always eager to pick a dress for her Queen. Blythe stood guard at the door, and Malka disappeared into her bathing room, leaving Haven to
herself.

Blood smeared across her chest, drowning the reds and golds of her dress in darkness. With the amount of blood soaking her bosom, she should be dead. She knew that, and so did her guard. They would always be overprotective of her for fear of her death, and she would always be protective of them for they could
die.

Raising her eyes from the sight of her own blood, she caught her own amber gaze in her vanity
mirror.

“Is this what it’s like to be Queen?” she
whispered.

BOOK: Haven: Chronicles of Warshard

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