Page 89 of The Concubine King
“Ethyr of the Linwood Village.”Klara projected her voice over the crowd and the sudden volume of it, echoing off the walls of the room beside them, made Ethyr jump.“You were chosen by the gods to represent the best among humanity, to represent the faith of every person and the sincerity of every prayer.By the gods’ standards, you were judged and deemed worthy.Do you pledge to uphold this standard and take every measure and effort to maintain the dedication we all have towards our gods?”
He swallowed.He tried to speak at a normal volume, but the word still came out as a whisper.“Yes.”
“I do pledge,” Klara whispered under her breath.
“I do pledge,” he said quickly.
“And do you pledge to serve the people of this kingdom to the best of your abilities, for as long as the gods shall will it?”
“I do pledge.”
Klara took the gold circlet from a cushion and rested it onto Ethyr’s head.“Then by decree of the gods, I consecrate you the Divine King of Hyancia and all its people.Rise.”
Ethyr slowly stood.The burst of jeers and applause from the crowd barely registered past the ringing in his ears.Klara gently guided Ethyr to face the cheering audience and nodded over his head to Lyrian, who stepped up to his other side.Between the two of them, tall and imposing, he must have looked like a tiny beacon shining gold in the sun.
“This era under our new king will henceforth be known as the Ethyrian Age,” Lyrian boomed out over the seats, his voice holding a sharp authority Klara’s didn’t.The roar of the crowd increased even more, one impossibly loud note, before a chant formed out of it:
“For the gods!For the king!For the gods!For the kingdom!”
Lyrian led Ethyr back down the stairs.The palanquin was gone, replaced with dozens upon dozens of guards making space up the amphitheater steps for him.
He kept his gaze forward as his sandals hit the first step, putting him in full view of the craning crowd, and he continued up the path the guards had cleared.His personal guard entourage fell into step around him, giving him something to focus on instead of meeting the thousands of eyes locked on him.He counted his steps, each one bringing him closer to the haven of the carriage.He was almost to it when a voice shouted above the clamor of the crowd.
“Ethyr!”
It wasn’t his name that pulled him from his numb reverie, but the familiar voice.He stopped and turned, forcing the circle of guards around him to stop as well, hands preemptively on their hilts.A ways down the street, a man of copper hair was struggling against two guards holding him back.
For a moment, Ethyr couldn’t breathe.He didn’t want to believe it.He bolted, ducking under his surprised guards’ futile attempt to stop him and forcing the lot of them to scramble after as he sprinted down the road.
“Let him through!”Ethyr ordered the two guards in the line.They stopped grappling the man with unexpected speed, sending him stumbling forward.Ethyr stopped his momentum by throwing his weight against him, wrapping a desperate hug around his neck.
“Mikel!”He squeezed tight and the solid warmth of arms surrounding him, squeezing back, broke open his heart with a happiness that almost burst him into tears.
“Ethyr,” Mikel said breathlessly, pressing his face into Ethyr’s neck and lifting him to his toes.“It’s really you.Ethyr, Ethyr.”
Ethyr pulled away and Mikel reluctantly set him down, though their hands did not retreat farther than each other’s elbows.
“What are you doing here?”Ethyr asked.Mikel glanced at the throngs of people, their relative complacence turned to excited shoving and shouting over one another, demanding they also be let through or begging Ethyr to give them a touch—or more.
“Your Divinity, we must continue,” Poyut said firmly, if breathlessly from her sprint after him.“Bring your friend if you want.”
Ethyr slid his arm through Mikel’s hand to join their palms.“Come with me.”
He pulled and Mikel fell into step with him, still looking around at the packed city street.
“Ignore them,” Ethyr told him.
“How can they say those things to you?Why don’t the guards do something?”
“They can’t arrest everyone.”Ethyr shrugged, glancing at the palace guards who had circled around him once more.“It’s just words.Don’t pay them any mind.”
He squeezed Mikel’s hand, compelling the man to give him his attention and squeeze back.Ethyr couldn’t stop the smile that split his face or the joy thrumming through his every nerve, turning his steps into little skips.
Poyut opened the carriage door and after a second of eying Mikel, an inspection he returned just as warily, she stepped aside and held out her hand.Ethyr took her help into the carriage, then sat and gestured for Mikel.He awkwardly clambered up the step, avoiding Poyut’s hand, and sat heavily across from Ethyr, making the carriage bounce.In the pristine colors of the interior, his ruddy, worn tunic and dirt-lined nails were painfully conspicuous.He looked borderline barbaric.Is that what Ethyr had looked like to Yorith and all the palace attendants when he’d first arrived?
He closed and latched the door.Apparently Mikel had read his thoughts, because the first thing out of his mouth was, “Everything’s so clean.”
Ethyr smiled at him.“Yes, everyone here is fastidious about cleanliness.”
