Chapter Thirty-Seven

Harry was pleased, not for the first time, that he was not proper royalty. This whole charade was the second he'd witnessed in as many years. The children were at home with Malcolm—not that they needed watching at ages eighteen and sixteen—and Harry envied them. He did not wish this fate on anyone, and having them be here and struggling to keep civil would make it even worse.

But long gone were the days that Harry could avoid things just because he didn't want to do them. He was a husband and father, and that required some sacrifice on his part to serve both roles well. At the moment, he was trying to be a good husband. Easier said than done today. But as annoying as this whole thing was, he knew there was nowhere else he could possibly be right now.

He was in the audience observing the coronation of King James V. Ruth's father was the fifth of his name just as Ruth's grandfather, King Richard, had been the fifth of his name. That felt like a good omen. King Richard V had reigned for forty years. King James V would not reign as long, everyone knew, but hopefully he'd be more successful than his predecessor.

In the most tragic accident of nature that no one could have ever expected, King Edmund III, Ruth's uncle and the rightful heir to the crown, had died suddenly of an aneurysm just shy of fourteen months as king. He had complained of headache and gone to lie down. When Juliet checked on him about an hour later, she found him dead and cold already. Queen Juliet was a widow, and the king had died childless. The line of succession meant that his younger brother, James, became king.

And so here they were, a few months later, seeing another coronation. This one was much more important than the last, however, for the sheer reason that Ruth was intimately involved. She was next in line, and there was no getting away from it. Ruth was going to be queen when her father died. And with his illness, the odds were that she'd accede within just a few years. The doctors had given him a life expectancy of another ten years, but that was when everyone assumed he could keep to himself and live a rather stress-free life. Being king did not allow that luxury.

Ruth had been out of her mind with worry for months and months. She worried about how her father would cope with the unexpected responsibilities thrust upon him. She worried about how his illness would be affected and if or when the truth of it would be revealed to the public. She worried about being available to assist him however he would need—unlike her grandfather, King James did not have sons and a granddaughter to shoulder some of the burden, and unlike her uncle, King James did not have a wife to assist him. Ruth was all her father had, and she did not even entertain the notion that it was not up to her to take on anything and everything he needed.

It also did not help that the various advisors, after having brought into the confidence of the family in knowing about the king's cancer, knew that Ruth would be doing all these same things before they knew it. She needed to be around to absorb as much as she could.

Within three weeks of her uncle's death, Ruth had approached Harry at work. She came into his office—without knocking, of course—and closed the blinds for their privacy. He had a feeling he knew what she wanted to say, but he'd let her broach it in her own way.

"Harry, I don't know what to do," she began.

"About what, darling?" he asked in return. He usually did not use such terms while they were working, but he could not bear to see her so nervous and upset.

Ruth sat in a chair in front of his desk. She was wringing her hands and bouncing her leg anxiously. "I don't take this lightly. I know you know that, but I need to say it anyway."

"Don't take what lightly?"

"This job," she said. "I love this job. I do good work here. Important work. I know I do. I know what we do is important. And I know I'm good at it, and my role is important."

"Of course it is. I wouldn't have kept you on if you weren't good and important in this work." He hoped she knew that. He hoped she understood how brilliant and talented she was, aside from the fact that he loved her. Yes, she was his wife. But he did not keep her in the office because he liked seeing his wife at work. If she weren't good at this, he would have made a gentle suggestion that perhaps she might do something else. That wasn't the case at all. He needed her here. And despite his gentle demeanor, he was gripped with a bit of anxiety of his own.

Ruth ran a shaky hand through her hair. "God, this is harder than I thought," she said with a nervous laugh.

"It's alright, Ruth," he said softly. He wished he could pull her into his arms, but he needed to remember where they were and maintain a bit of decorum. "You can tell me anything," he assured her.

"I think I need to step back. I…I have to be around to help Dad. I never thought I'd ever have to quit my job for the sake of the crown, but we didn't expect any of this, did we?"

"No, certainly not," he answered. And wasn't that the truth? If he had thought that Ruth would be queen, would he have married her? Well, if he'd known she'd be queen one day, he probably would not have pursued her to begin with. But he had, and he'd fallen in love with her, and he'd had no choice but to marry her. And their vows had said for better or worse, and her heightened royal status was, in both their eyes, for worse.

"I don't want to go. But I've got to. He's tried to tell me it's alright, that he can handle it, and maybe he can, but Harry, what if he can't? What if something happens? What if he pushes himself too far and…well, I'm going to be queen sooner or later, and since we've all spent twenty-eight years assuming I wouldn't be queen, I don't know what I'm doing!"

"It's alright, Ruth. I understand. If you think you can work part time, maybe two days a week even, I think we can start transitioning your duties here to someone else. We can come up with a short list and figure it out. Do you think that would be alright?"

"I wish I could just stay…"

"But you can't. I think I understand that better than most people."

"Do you?"

"Ruth, I sleep next to you every night. You think I don't know how hard this is for you?"

She stood up from her chair, still trying to blink back tears and succeeding for the moment. She crossed to where he was and folded herself into his lap. Harry just held her tight. They stayed like that, quiet and cuddling, for a little while.

And so Ruth had stepped back from work, only coming in three days a week in order to start training her replacement, Erin, to be Harry's right hand. It was already strange not having Ruth there with him. It was lonely for Harry, lonely to be without his best friend and true right hand. But Erin was a quick learner and very eager to prove her worth. Harry could already see her ambition. More than likely, she hoped to take Harry's position when he eventually left it. But that wouldn't be for a long time. At least he hoped it wouldn't be for a long time.

Harry's mind was brought back to the present as he watched what Ruth had told him would be the most important part of the coronation. She picked up the enormous bejeweled crown from where it sat on a pillow and carried it to where her father sat on the throne as the Leader of the Legislature recited the ancient words of coronation. "I present unto all subjects of the land James Charles Alexander George, the undoubted King of House Everard. Wherefore all shall do homage and service to the King. Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of the land, domestic and colonial alike and all possessions and other territories of them belonging or pertaining, according to their respective laws and customs?"

Ruth was standing next to the Leader with the crown as she waited for the oaths, just as they had practiced. King James answered in a strong, regal tone, "I solemnly promise to do so."

"Will you to your power cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?"

"I will."

"And will you do the utmost in your power to maintain and preserve the freedom and dignity of all those over whom you rule? Will you pledge your oath to them as their king as they shall to you as your subjects?"

Harry noticed the king sit up a little straighter in the throne. And the words he spoke, while in accordance to custom, rang truer from his lips than they had from his brother. It gave Harry chills.

"All this I promise to do. The things which I have here before promised and pledged, I will promise and keep, from now until my dying day."

The Leader gave a small nod, and Ruth carried the crown to her father and placed in securely on his head. She stepped back and bowed deeply. In a rather small, reverent voice, she said, "Long live the king." She then pressed a kiss to his cheek and stepped back to return to her place.

All the other nobles and every Member of the Legislature proceeded to pay their homage to the new king. Through it all, Harry just watched Ruth. He'd never before seen an exact blend of pride and terror in all his life. To Harry's dismay, he was rather certain she'd feel exactly that for the entire reign of King James. After all, she loved and respected her father, and he would make a wonderful king. But he was ill, and he would not last long. And Ruth was next.