Free Against the Reign by Dove Winters Page A

make a decision, Your Highness, and soon. Prince Vian is the one that ultimately will suffer, followed by everyone in this kingdom, if you make the wrong choice.”
    “So no pressure then?” I say sarcastically. “This was never supposed to happen. My father knew as well as I did that I could not handle this job.”
    Rayner stands slowly, wincing with the effort to push himself up. He takes a deep breath.
    “Ward, I think Her Majesty needs to see something,” he says. Ward looks deeply confused, then suddenly brightens. Then his face falls again.
    “I don’t think now is a good time for that,” he says.
    “I think it is the perfect time for that,” Rayner says. I glance at Marguerite, who shrugs. Rayner turns to me. “Come to the Reflection Room.”
    It takes us awhile to get there, since I can’t walk a straight line. Ward and Marguerite finally each take an arm and guide me behind Rayner. Once we get there, Ward opens the doors and lets in some fresh air. I sit on the balcony, still clutching my empty bottle, and let the sweet-smelling air revive me while Rayner takes a moment to regain his strength. When he’s ready, he hands Ward a key. Ward looks hesitant.
    “Do it!” Rayner commands.
    Still looking unsure, Ward hurries to the closet. The closet is always locked and I have never bothered to attempt to look in there. There are various places in the castle where my parents keep things under lock and key for safety. But as Ward opens the closet door and pulls a large object into view, my head struggles to clear, fights to know if what I’m seeing is fake or real.
    “What is that?” I whisper. I put the bottle down by the wall and push myself up so I can get a closer look.
    “That, Your Majesty, is your coronation gown,” Rayner says gently.
    “But….I don’t understand.” It’s a dress I have definitely never seen before. White and glittering like freshly fallen snow, it wears long sleeves and a slim skirt that drags on the floor. I run my hand over one of the sleeves, the sheer fabric as soft as I imagine a cloud would be. I’ve never seen a dress that glitters the way this one does, and on closer examination, I can see the whole dress has been dusted with some kind of sparkly material, like crushed diamond powder. “Coronation dresses in Newrock are usually brown.”
    “Your father had the dress made earlier this very year. He wanted it ready, he said, because you are seventeen years old and quite stunning, and he knew it would be only a matter of time before you were called to wed. But with all the trouble you’d been in, he wanted the dress to be symbolic. When you were ready to accept the crown, when you had made the decision for yourself to serve the people and become their queen, he wanted you in a dress that was pure and clean. A message to the people that you had changed your ways and would serve them well. He wanted you to shine like an angel,” Rayner explains.
    “He even included a special piece right here.” Ward pushes aside a flap of material in the skirt to reveal a slit. “Because he knew that you always carry your dagger. This way the dress wouldn’t hinder you from pulling it out if necessary.”
    The emotions welling up inside me become almost too much to handle. I thought my father was waiting for Vian, like I was. I thought we had had a plan. Why had I never seen this dress?
    “He wanted it to be a surprise for you when you chose the crown. He felt you needed to come to the decision on your own. And he said you would. There were those in the court that argued with him, but his faith in you never wavered,” Rayner says.
    “If that’s true, he never showed it to me. All he ever showed me was his disappointment.” Tears sting my eyes and I struggle to hold them back.
    “If only to make you try harder. Believe me, Virginia.” The informal way Rayner speaks to me makes me look at him, makes me see the fatherly quality in him. He was my father’s best friend, my