"You don't waste time," the bard jibed good-naturedly. "A throne and a queen. Now if you'll just appoint me Master Minstrel..."
Tris slipped his arm around Kiara's waist, wincing as his newly healed ribs protested. "Be careful what you wish for," Tris teased. "You're already in charge of planning both a coronation and a wedding."
Carroway grinned wider. "Suits me fine. I'll help the steward plan the food, and I'll arrange the best entertainment and decorations in the Winter Kingdoms. That's how reputations are made, after all," he said with an exaggerated courtly bow.
"Let's wait until tomorrow to start planning the menu, if it's all the same to you," Tris asked tiredly.
"It's been tomorrow for a while now," Carroway replied. "Carina is with Jonmarc. He won't be going anywhere for a long time. I promised to send orders to the kitchen—if the servants ever return— to have their meals sent up to Jonmarc's room." Carroway grinned conspiratorially. "Maybe there'll be a double wedding, before all is said and done. Ban left orders that you're not to be disturbed until noon, but a line of petitioners is already forming and one or two of your father's old retainers have come out of hiding.
"That makes it possible, and probably wise, to convey the crown later this morning." Carroway held up a hand to forestall any protest. "Mikhail pointed out that kingdoms can be lost on technicalities. You've won the crown, but you haven't actually been proclaimed king. He tells me there is protocol for a field coronation—King Hotten was crowned that way, so there is precedent—and we can worry about all the pomp and circumstance later."
Carroway shook his head. "We've got a mess to clean up just restaffing the castle," he went on. "And we have to convince the servants that the vayash moru will keep the truce, or they won't step foot back in the kitchen. We'll be eating cheese and salt beef for the rest of our lives."
"I don't know," Tris teased, "all that time on the road kind of gave me a taste for salt beef."
"Trail rations never hurt anyone," Kiara joined in. "Builds character."
Carroway rolled his eyes. "I've had my character built enough for ten lifetimes. Now I just want one of those comfortable court positions where I can write songs immortalizing the king and his lady and become one of the most honored bards of the kingdoms."
"Let me know if you don't have enough material for good stories," Tris said. "I can send you back out for a while with Ban. Or maybe Gabriel would take you in."
Carroway gave him a sidelong glance. "No thanks. I think I've got enough to work on."
Kiara laughed. "You two have got business to take care of. I'll go see how Carina and Jonmarc are doing. Don't worry—I'll be with you shortly."
Tris kissed her and let her go, watching as she headed down the corridor.
Carroway looked at Tris, dressed in a borrowed tunic and trews, and shook his head. "I can see that the first order of business is to get you outfitted like a king and not like a tent rigger. Come with me, and let's see what we can find."
CHAPTER FORTY
SIX weeks later, the palace courtyards were again filled with cheering crowds for the formal coronation of the new king of Margolan.
"Carroway really outdid himself." Kiara sat with Tris in the banquet hall after the coronation ceremony.
"Remind me never to make him a dare again," Tris replied. True to his word, Carroway had engineered a fete of grand proportions on short notice, with musicians, entertainers, bonfires, and jousts. Tris protested, to no avail, that far too much had been made of the event.
"Staden's enjoying himself," Kiara added. She glanced toward where the Principality king sat, regaling the others at their table with hunting stories. Berry sat next to him, resplendent in a gown of emerald brocade, looking bored. Royster, still unready to return to his self-imposed exile at the Library, was exuberantly keeping the noble ladies on the terrace entertained with his stories.
"He's certainly entitled to it," Tris replied. In addition to the reward treasure they had left behind in Principality and Vahaman's gold, Staden and Berry presented Tris with a generous coronation gift of precious gems.
"Harrtuck looks no worse for the wear." The burly soldier came into view, milling among guests and guardsmen who greeted him with cheers and back slapping.
"I almost think he enjoyed himself out with the mercs," Tris said. "He's certainly enjoyed telling stories about the adventure."
Harrtuck had returned a few days before the festivities began, riding from the Principality border after dismissing the mercenary troops. The nights before the coronation had been filled with an exchange of stories. The friends had sat up late, trading news of the last days of the campaign over brandy and the cellar's best dried fruits.
"Now there's an odd couple." Kiara looked across the room to where Sakwi and Alyzza bent together in conversation. Sakwi had been successful in his journey to Eastmark to hold back the Nargi troops. This was the first time since his return that Tris had seen the pair without Royster, with whom the two mages eagerly exchanged lore.
"I imagine Royster will have two more visitors, assuming Alyzza and Sakwi don't move in with him altogether," Tris chuckled.
Jolie and Astir moved comfortably among the guests. If any of the nobles thought amiss of Jolie's presence, they said nothing. Jolie brought gifts for the occasion, with bolts of fine Mussa silk and casks of aged Cartelesian brandy, whose origin Tris decided not to consider too carefully. Maynard Linton joined them; it was clear that Jolie and Linton were long-time trading partners.
For Kiara, Jolie brought bolts of creamy Noorish satins and silks. She gave them to Kiara with an aside that brought a crimson blush to the princess's cheeks. Along the back wall, the innkeeper Lars and his wife Tabethe were dressed in fine clothes. They looked dazed, as if they could not believe themselves guests at the king's coronation. Tris had no doubt that once the designation of "king's favored inn" was widely known, Lars would never again lack customers.
"Damn fine feast, Tris," King Harrol boomed, clapping Tris on the shoulder. "Your father would have been proud." Harrol, Bricen's brother-in-law, was more than pleased to preside over the coronation and present Tris with the crown, bringing with him welcome news that the magicked beasts on Dhasson's borders were destroyed.
"Blame Carroway," Tris grinned. "He's out to build a legend."
Harrol laughed heartily. "He doesn't need to. He can tell your stories until his dying day and never lack for an audience." He looked down at Kiara. "Remind me to tell you some stories of my own, about Tris's fostering, sometime when there's a flask of brandy on the table," he said with a broad wink to Tris.
Kiara gave a wicked grin. "That sounds tempting." If Tris intended to make a rejoinder, it was cut off as the musicians struck up a lively tune. Harrol moved away with a wave, seeking out one of the noble ladies to dance with him as the celebrants crowded the dance floor.
"I haven't seen Carina in a while," Tris said, watching the festivities.
"She's probably out walking with Cam," Kiara replied, her toe tapping to the music. King Donelan, thinking it unwise to leave Isencroft so soon after his recovery, had sent Carina's twin brother as his ambassador. Cam had arrived from Isencroft with news of King Donelan's full recovery. The brother and sister had retreated for many long, private walks, recounting their separate adventures. Cam had also carried a private correspondence for Kiara, within which Donelan granted his unreserved permission to honor her betrothal contract with Margolan's new king. Although she and Tris had announced their betrothal in exile, proclaiming it at the coronation made the celebration even more festive.