The next day was the King's funeral. Every citizen in Winterville was there to attend. A sick sort of pleasure consumed Gloria at the sight of the casket with the King's body inside. All the while, she and Julian had been planning. Julian knew that Nar's coronation would follow immediately after the funeral because that's how the law worked.
But Gloria and Julian had a plan. During the coronation, there would be a tragic "accident." Julian had gathered some mercenaries, at least three, to help him and Gloria take the throne. Gloria would be up in the stands, watching from above, waiting for Julian's signal to attack. During the attack, Gloria would use her mist magic, so the public wouldn't be able to see, and Julian's mercenaries, hiding in the crowd, would attack Simina. It would be the perfect assassination, and no one would see. When all the smoke from her magic would cloud everyone's eyes, Julian and Gloria would be killing the Prince. Gloria couldn't wait. She wished she had other magic, something more offensive, that could help Julian fight. But the mist magic was all she had.
All the while she was thinking about this, she stared with hatred at Simina, who stood next to the Prince, holding his hand and laying her head on his shoulder to comfort him, dressed in a modest, cute little black dress. Nar was dressed in a mournful black, tight-fitting suit to match Simina's black dress. It was slightly drizzling as they stood in the Royal Cemetery, listening to the mournful sermon of the preacher.
With a peculiar expression, Simina stared at Nar's face. It was blank and pure white. He stared, devoid of emotion, at the open casket with his father's body. His dark purple eyes were drier than a desert. Simina knew that Nar hadn't had the best relationship with his father. But it was still father, and Nar's aloof reaction concerned her.
"I'm sorry Nar," Simina said, just to be polite. Nar said nothing, only nodded. Simina decided not to say anything else, so she stayed quiet. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. The preacher's sermon started to sound like a drone to her. Pretty soon, it faded, but Simina didn't realize it was over until Nar moved. She opened her eyes. Nar was pulling her along with him to stand before the King's casket. He turned to face the crowd. He was clutching fiercely to Simina's hand. With seemingly hollow eyes, Nar addressed the crowd.
"My humble citizens. Thank you all for coming today. I know you all are mourning the death of the King, my father, as I am. Thank you for taking this time to mourn with me." Nar took a strangled breath. When he spoke again, his voice cracked.
"I only wish I could have been with him in his last few moments. He was a truly great King and a fair ruler. I can only hope to be as great a King as he is. Thank you." Nar bowed his head respectfully, and the crowd murmured their agreement, faces drawn and haggard with grief. But Simina could see through the facade Nar put on, and saw that his "grief" was only an act. He didn't mean a single word of his speech. Nar cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the crowd. The murmurs were silenced.
"Despite this unexpected tragedy, I have pleasing news to share." The crowd buzzed with excitement. Nar held up a hand to silence them.
"I will be marrying soon," Nar announced, "to this beautiful, charming young lady next to me." Nar picked her hand up and kissed it, staring into her eyes with heart-thumping passion. Simina blushed. She couldn't believe he was doing this in front of a crowd. Nar turned back to the people.
"We will marry soon, and I will make her my queen. Shortly after my coronation, I will announce the date and time of my wedding. Again, I appreciate you all for attending my father's funeral. Thank you." Nar bowed his head and then waved over two undertakers standing to the side the entire time. They came over and closed the casket, and each undertaker took an end of the casket, picked it up, and lowered it gently into the ground. Then they began to bury him with their shovels, tossing piles of dirt after dirt until the casket was completely buried beneath the ground, six feet under.
Afterward, a sea of black moved away, dispersing. Then, Simina noticed a young, blue-haired man wearing a white cloak come up to Nar, extending a hand. He was a very beautiful man, tall and lithe. His hair was long and blue, flowing in waves to his shoulders. He had sharp features.
"Excuse me, your highness," the man said politely. Nar turned his head sharply in his direction. He narrowed his eyes.
"And you are?" The man bowed.
"My name is Blu Coloure, your Royal Adviser. Your coronation is prepared in the Ballroom. I've had the guests taken inside. Are you ready now?" the man, Blu, explained. Nar nodded curtly. He recalled his father's Royal Adviser, Sage. Blu looked remarkably like him and figured he must be Sage's son. He vaguely remembered Blu. He might have seen him once or twice in passing, but didn't really remember.
"I am."
"Then please, follow me." With a swish of his cloak, he turned around and strode toward the castle's main entrance. Nar spun toward Simina.
"I must leave you now, my love. Please follow the others into the castle and sit in one of the front pews," Nar instructed. He swiftly kissed her cheek in one fluid motion. Without further ado, he hastily strode after Blu. Simina did as he said without argument and followed the crowd into the castle. A sea of black-dressed guests filed into the Ballroom, dozens at a time. Pews had been set up in the room, and many other guests were already taking seats.
Simina strode confidently to the front of the room to the front pew on the right. The Royal Adviser, Blu, was already sitting, and there was a spot next to him on the pew. She took note of the sword strapped at his hip. Simina wondered how he'd gotten there so fast, but did not ask. Instead, she just sat next to him.