The next day was the King's funeral. Every citizen in the Right was there to attend. Gloria felt a sick sort of pleasure at the sight of the casket with the King's body inside. All the while, her and Julian had been planning. Julian knew that whenever the King died, Nar's coronation would follow immediately after the funeral because the King was paranoid of Julian taking over the throne.
But Gloria and Julian had a plan. During the coronation, there would be a tragic “accident.” Julian had gathered up 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 that would be 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 be clouding 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 with 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 sorrowful 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. A single, wet tear rolled down his cheek, leaking from his right eye. Seeing him sad made her sad so she also started to cry; not that she already hadn't been. The King dying was enough. Simina sniffled.
“I'm sorry Nar,” Simina choked in a crying voice. Nar said nothing, just nodded and gulped. Simina decided not to say anything else, so she stayed quiet. She just laid her head on his shoulder and tried to comfort him as best she could. Simina closed her eyes. The preacher's sermon started to sound like a drone to her. Pretty soon it faded out, but Simina didn't realize that it was over until Nar moved. She opened her eyes. Nar was pulling her along with him to stand in front of 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 breath, a very 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. Thank you.” Nar bowed his head respectfully and the crowd murmured their agreement, faces drawn and haggard with grief. Nar cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the crowd. The murmurs silenced.
“Despite this unexpected tragedy, I have rather pleasing news to share with you.” 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 that had been 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.
Afterwords, a sea of black moved away, dispersing. It was then that 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 down to his shoulders. He had very 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 within 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 that 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 towards 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, and 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 of the other guests were already taking their seats.
Simina strode confidently to the front of the room to the front pew on the right. The Royal Adviser Blu was already sitting there, 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.