Chapter Sixty-Nine

The coronation had finally arrived. From today onward, he would no longer be Major Pearce or Sir Harry. No, from now on, he'd be Prince Harry or Your Highness. He found himself jealous that Ruth's royal name was not the name she used in private. The difference between Prince Harry and just plain Harry was not as clean as Queen Louisa and Ruth.

Harry tried to get through all of it with as much dignity as he could muster. He felt foolish in that lavish fur cape and the scepter in his hand. What was the point of that nonsense, honestly?

One thing that he didn't mind, actually, was the fact that Ruth was the one orchestrating all the nonsense. It didn't much matter what she did most of the time, he was just content to watch her. In the two years she had become queen, she had grown and changed in leaps and bounds. Well, publicly at least. Privately, she was still his Ruth. Still Mummy to their girls. Still kind and funny and brilliant. To the rest of the world, though, she had blossomed from reluctant princess to incredible queen. She wasn't perfect by any stretch—oh there she fumbled over her words a bit, bless her—but she was so much more confident and poised than when Harry had first met her almost fifteen years before. She had no choice, really, then to rise to the challenge. But she had risen to the challenge and succeeded. Not everyone would. Ruth had doubted that she'd be able to. And though Harry had always encouraged his wife no matter what, he had harbored his own doubts that she would actually be able to do this and do it well. They were both proved wrong by her determination and natural grace.

Harry's gaze moved away from his wife, his queen, and moved around the room. They were in the throne room, and the consort's throne had been brought out of storage—last used by Queen Juliet when King Edmund had reigned for thirteen months almost a decade ago now. Harry sat in his seat and tried not to fidget as his knee started to lock from sitting for so bloody long. He tried to distract himself by looking elsewhere.

The family sat in front. Graham was dressed in his formal uniform, and Harry couldn't have been prouder of his son. Sergeant Pearce to everyone else. To Harry, he was still the sweet, earnest little boy who had begged his father to let them throw a birthday party for Ruth.

Charlotte and Emilia sat beside their big brother. Emilia was watching her mother with rapt attention. Charlotte was as well, but her little feet were spinning like propellors, something she'd been doing since she was an infant. Harry smiled to see that at five years old, she hadn't quite lost everything that had made her his precious baby.

Catherine sat at the end with her boyfriend beside her. That had been quite the fight, in fact. Harry had caught her with Danny, her bodyguard, and taken longer than was perhaps reasonable to keep from murdering the boy with his bare hands. But eventually, he had calmed down and listened to Ruth. She was right, as usual, that Catherine deserved to have a romance with a nice young man if she wanted. And at least everyone knew that her bodyguard was a good, upstanding lad. Harry had spoken with Ros and they'd all agreed that Danny would accept a demotion in exchange for being allowed to continue to see Catherine socially. He was now a member of the general palace guard, and when he was not on duty, his time was his own. And today, his time was being spent dressed in a very elegant suit and holding hands with Catherine Pearce, Undersecretary of Foreign Policy to Her Majesty.

At last, the big moment arrived. Ruth turned away from her podium and picked up the garish Crown of Leister. It was the one that her father had worn until he became king. And now it was the crown Harry himself would wear until his dying day.

He'd asked Ruth the other night, in fact, who would be the next Prince of Leister. Her answer surprised him.

"Charlotte, I imagine."

"Charlotte? Why on earth would that be?"

She explained, "Well, Emilia is the eldest child of the monarch. Traditionally, that would give her the Harbridge title. Uncle Edmund was Prince of Harbridge before he became king. So when Emilia is twenty-four, assuming I'm still queen, she'll be crowned Princess of Harbridge. The Leister title is traditional for the second born. So assuming nothing happens between now and then to change the line of succession, Charlotte will be crowned Princess of Leister after your death."

"Why not when she's twenty-four?"

"Because you'll hold the Leister title. We don't take away a title once it's been bestowed. So she'll have to wait."

Harry would be seventy-one when Charlotte turned twenty-four. Hopefully he'd still be alive and kicking. She'd have to wait for her coronation. And whenever it did happen, Harry hoped that Ruth would still be queen and could crown their younger daughter as well.

All this coronation was beautiful, on the one hand. The ceremony of it, the solemnity. There was such rich tradition and beautiful ritual associated with all the coronations Harry had been involved in. But it did have its darker side. It caused one to confront their own mortality in a very visceral way. Harry would have this crown until he died, and then it would go to his daughter who was only five years old now. It was much worse for Ruth, knowing that their six-year-old would be subjected to the life that Ruth never wanted for herself or anyone she loved, and knowing that when the time came for Emmy to take the crown, it would be because Ruth herself was gone. It was a terrible legacy to leave, but their work and their lives were important. Everyone in the royal family served the people of their country and their colonies. It was an honor and a privilege, and they all had their part to play, even if they didn't want to.

Ruth carried the crown in her hands towards Harry in his silly throne. He sat up straight, trying to look the part of the title he was receiving, like a man worthy of wearing a crown upon his head. And with the gentlest beatific smile on her face, Ruth placed the crown on his head. He caught the faintest pursing of her lips as she subtly blew him a kiss.

Unlike when Ruth was crowned, people did not come up to pledge fealty to Harry. But when Ruth stepped back, Harry stood up, as did the rest of everyone else. The family in the front and the other nobles behind them and the staff in the back. And almost in unison, everyone in the room—except Ruth—gave a respectful bow to the newly crowned Prince of Leister. Ruth, as queen, bowed to no one.

Thankfully, it was over after that. Queen Louisa and Prince Harry led the procession out of the throne room. There would be a grand reception ball, of course, but the royals got to freshen up a bit first.

The staff did a wonderful job of keeping the visitors in their places as the family left. Harry and Ruth waited idly by the main staircase for their children to join them.

"You did well," Ruth said. She reached up and brushed her thumb over his chin and lip.

He took her hand and kissed her fingertips. "I didn't have much to do. But you did beautifully, darling. You're getting quite good at this queening business."

That made her chuckle, which was his intent. But she didn't get to say anything else as the little ones thundered down the hall toward them.

"Daddy, Daddy, Catherine says you're a prince now, are you a prince?" Emilia demanded.

Harry shook his head in amusement. "Yes, sweet girl, I'm a prince now. Mummy is a queen, so wasn't it nice that she let me be a prince?" That was the only way he could think to explain it to the little ones.

Charlotte gazed up at him with the most adorable look of awe in her big, blue eyes. "Are you Prince Charming?"

"I certainly think so," Ruth quipped.

Harry glowered at her.

It was Graham, coming right behind his little sisters, who said, "Dad is Prince Charming, but only for you, Char."

"Why only Charlotte?" Emilia demanded.

Graham laughed, "You too, Emmy. Dad's gonna be Prince Charming for you your whole life, even if you find a Prince Charming of your own."

"I do recommend finding one of your own," Catherine interjected, her arm around Danny with a big grin on her face.

Harry could see this was all getting a bit out of hand. "Alright, everyone upstairs. Time to change into our party clothes. Girls, Nanny is going to help you, alright, and then Mummy and I will come see you so we can all go down together."

Charlotte and Emilia both nodded sedately. But that ended when Emmy challenged Charlotte to a race up to the nursery.

Ruth giggled at their antics, and Harry just sighed heavily. Prince Charming he might be, but a fat lot of good it did.