The day of the Grand Reception arrived with a silence that felt heavier than the millions of tons of water pressing down on the Spires.
Roxy stood in front of a mirror in the Pearl Wing. She was dressed in the Imperial Silk, a gown of deep, shifting midnight blue that clung to her form and trailed behind her. On her head sat the Crown of Tides, a heavy, jagged circlet of black coral and raw diamonds that hummed with the ambient magic of the ocean.
She looked every inch a Queen. Cold. Distant. Powerful.
Inside, she was vibrating with fear. She was very nervous that Caspian could taste it in the water.
"You are shaking," Caspian murmured, swimming up behind her.
He placed his large hands on her shoulders. He was dressed in ceremonial silk. He looked magnificent, but his eyes were tight with worry.
"They will love him," Caspian said, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "He is the Heir. His blood is Royal."
