Keely could still taste the pungent tang of vomit in the back of her throat when High Priestess Teyve stepped towards her.
"This is a great honor, you would do well to appreciate that," she said.
Nodding politely and silently Keely focused on her boot laces. She knew the meaning of being chosen for the coronation all too well. The sharp pains in her stomach and the bile in her throat were ever present reminders of just how important this day was.
The High Priestess began walking away from Keely down the long hall leading to the bowels of the Palace. The clicking of her boots echoed with rhythm throughout the ancient hall. Keely's classmates were gathered behind her. Stunned in silence and watching with intent. Their jealousy was obvious, their spite when speaking to Keely was barely disguised. Their hopes had never been higher than now. A rare moment of weakness from the star pupil. Catching her vomiting into a palace pot plant might be just enough to promote one of them.
"Are you coming, Keely?" she calls back to me.
A test and she had passed. To assume she had remained the High Priestess Teyve's choice and followed without command could have cost her everything. That's why Keely was chosen. Too many of her classmates don't realize that everything is a test and so they fail.
Keely's tried her best to match the pace of the High Priestess. Keeping her feet sure and firm but as silent as possible. Strength and elegance. That was always the goal. Her breathing was ragged the stress of the last hour had caught up to her and she dared not breath a sigh of relief yet. Taking her place at Madame Teyve's side was a kind of assurance in a cold place like the palace. It was a harrowing place that made most witches feel nervous. Although the truce between The Citadel and The Palace had been long, it was not without its troubles. These halls were a reminder of human's power despite their lack of magic. Statues of huge sword bearing warriors and the flowing banners of House Velibor.
They came to a room with a wide table. Draped in a fine cloth bearing the white and black colors of the Kingdom. Upon the cloth were the gifts that the High Priestess and Keely would bestow to the new King today. A fine silver crown and a large golden scepter. A symbolic gesture that had lasted centuries. Meant to signify the trust between the Castle and the Citadel. An alliance between knights and witches, steel and magic. It had made the Kingdom of Fyodor stronger than any other. While they wasted time fighting civil wars between wizards and warriors we formed a united front. My gift to give was a enormous golden scepter. Crafted by The Citadel to mark our alliance. These gifts were always bestowed on coronation day to show the unity between The Palace and The Citadel.
Alongside the gifts were the dressings that the witches would wear for the ceremony. In addition to the usual red robes of The Citadel the High Priestess would wear a crown of thorns to symbolize both her leadership of The Citadel and her false power next to the crown of the King. Keely would wear a mask. Intricately carved from ivory to resemble a the peak of a huge bird. All witches once wore masks like it. Back in the days when people believed that just the look of a magic wielder could kill. Some still believed in such superstitions. There was a reason Keely didn't leave The Citadel much, after all.
Madame Teyve turned to Keel, holding the mask gently. She delicately lifted the mask over her head and adjusted the straps to hold it in place. Keely felt grateful that her stomach had already been emptied. The mask was suffocating and the eye sockets were barely big enough to see through. The pride on Madame Teyve's face is still visible though she says nothing. She just picked up the golden scepter, holding it out with two hands. Keely wrapped her fingers around the shaft of the staff. Taking its weight, which was great. Madame Teyve began walking away towards a simple wooden door at the far end of the room. This would lead up to the coronation. It was time.
Keely followed slowly behind the High Priestess as they ascended the thing spiral staircase. They arrive at a thick wooden door. Madame Teyve tensed and took a deep breath before knocking on the door twice. Keely felt the usual safety she found next to the High Priestess fade slightly.
A few moments pass before the door is opened by a heavily armed palace guard. The light and noise flood Keely's remaining senses. Cheers and clapping meet the pair as they step out onto a temporary wooden stage in the outdoor courtyard of the palace. The crowd is huge and spreads out the open gates down the bridge towards the city. They made their way across the stage, taking their place on the left of the future king's throne. He looked much like his late father when sitting upon his throne. A strong jawline, dark hair slicked back into a neat ponytail. Sitting proud and stiff in his family's ceremonial armor. It glistened in the midday sun. Silver with floral carvings across the breast plate. Keely tries her best to keep her head high despite the weight of the mask and the scepter. The High Priestess steps forward and stood in front of the throne. He bowed his head slightly towards the witch.
"I, High Priestess Teyve of the Citadel, have come to you Prince Ilivar to grant to you these tokens of our friendship and trust. With this crown I grant you my blessing to lead the Kingdom of Fyodor and her people until you ascend to the eternal," her voice was amplified either through strength, magic, or both.
She reached forward and placed the crown on Prince Ilivar's head. A smile danced on the edges of his lips. But she did not move. Madame Teyve held her hands, fingers spread as though it was taking all of her strength. The now King Ilivar's face contorted into a confused smirk as the crowd began to quiet. Her lips began to twitch as her knuckles turned white from her invisible effort. A guard on the right side of the throne placed his hand on her sword. Keely stumbled back at the act of aggression from the warrior before gasping when her eyes met Madame Teyve's. They were gone. Empty sockets met Keely's stare. King Ilivar tried to stand but was placed back into his chair by some invisible force. Madame Teyve was mumbling words that Keely could not recognize when a glow sprouted from the palms of her hands. A blast shook the stage and the scepter was thrown from Keely's hands. She had the chance to realize that she was flying through the air when she slammed into the stone floor with a crunch. Whispers of words that were unknown to her filled Keely's head as her sight grew dim. The clamor of the crowd screaming and guards shouting faded as her eyes shut and she passed out.