After Transmigrating, My Husband Is an Octopus novel · Chapter 22 of 24

Chapter 22: The Weight of It

Morwenna's POV

They crowned him in Pearl Hall at noon, three days later, with his sleeves rolled to the elbow.

He had asked for that himself.

"If I wear gloves to my own coronation, they'll think I'm ashamed," he told me that morning, in the dark of the Drift, while I did up the buttons of his shirt.

"Are you?"

"No."

His arms moved around me all the same, a little tight.

"Then roll them up," I said.

Three hundred shifters stood in the white hall, and not one stepped back when he came down the aisle.

A child near the front pointed at his arms and asked her mother whether they were real.

"Very," said the pearl-faced physician, loudly. "Look closely, dear. They're the best arms in the kingdom."

Somebody laughed, and then half the hall did.

The old lady set the circlet on his head herself.

It was plain silver, worn at the edges, his father's.

Lorcan knelt for it.

When he rose, a king, his skin went through a slow ripple of rose and gold in front of three hundred people, and nobody looked away.

Bess whooped from the back.

"That's enough, Miss Marwood," said the baker's son, and she smacked him.

The first business of the new king was a short one.

The guards brought Tristram Verrin up the aisle in iron on his wrists.

He walked with his black hair neat and his gold eyes dull.

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