audience and reaches of our kingdom may hear. If either of the participants feel or prove they are unable to answer, this immediately marks their forfeiture of the position. Are you ready?”
They nodded.
“Do you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of this Kingdom of Brittany, and the dominions thereto belonging, according to the statutes in Breton Parliament agreed on, and the laws and customs of the same?"
Lilac and Sinclair answered in unison. “I solemnly promise to do so.”
“Will you, to your power, cause law and justice in mercy to be executed in all your judgements?"
“Yes, I will,” Lilac said, but her answer was partially drowned by a wet, strangled cough from Sinclair. She looked over in surprise and found him red faced, neck taut as he struggled to swallow.
“Yes,” he managed through a gag. “I will.”
A slew of quiet murmurs could be heard from the audience, and his parents shifted behind them, but he only cleared his throat scowled before repeating himself boisterously. “Yes, I will.”
Lilac gulped nervously as Garin began the next question.
"Will you, to the utmost of your power maintain the laws of God, the true profession of the gospel and religion established by law, and will you preserve unto the clergy of this realm, and to the churches committed to their charge, all such rights and privileges as by law do or shall appertain unto them, or any of them?"
“All this I promise to—”
“Blood!” Sinclair suddenly moaned, flailing his hands and batting them at his robes. “It’s everywhere—” He abruptly dropped to his knees, where he retched, but nothing came up.
“My Lord,” Garin said, forehead wrought with concern. He backed away, and both the incense holder and servant followed. “What is the matter?”
“Darkling! Vampire,” he shrieked. Oblivious to the audible gasps from the audience, he tore off his robes to reveal a sweat-drenched undershirt. His mother gave a small scream of despair.
Vivien stood abruptly, nearly tripping over her gown in her haste. “Sinclair,” she quipped through her teeth. “Dear, can I fetch you anything? Water, perhaps?”
“I don’t—What’s happening to me?” His voice grated against his throat; he inspected his fingertips frantically, turning his palms this way and that, as if his mother hadn’t said a word. Then, he looked up. “You did this,” he bellowed at the priest.
He glanced flittingly between Garin and Lilac before lunging for her throat, blue veins bulging from his outstretched hands. “You prude bitch!” he roared for everyone to hear.
Lilac froze in shock, relief, and humiliation. Fortunately, the guards behind him were faster; two arms snatched her back, while the guards wrangled Sinclair to the ground.
To her surprise, the king stood with his hand on his sword hilt, preparing to defend her while the queen white-knuckled the chair arm for dear life. Armand’s chest rose and fell in devastation, and the duchess sobbed and shrieked at the guards now manhandling her monster of a son.
“Remove him,” Henri demanded firmly, above Sinclair’s ongoing vulgar accusations. “Remove him!” he repeated, loud enough for the rest of the audience to hear.
Sinclair was wrestled into the keep while his father trailed close behind. Vivien could not stop shaking her head; instead of immediately following, she threw an apologetic glance toward the king and queen. Lilac almost jumped, startled, when the duchess gripped her wrist in passing.
Her face twisted with remorse, but the words that slipped from her pursed red lips were anything but. “Enjoy that crown while it’s yours, dear,” she whispered tightly, low enough for only Lilac to hear.
Suddenly, Lilac couldn’t stop herself from shaking. She didn’t have time to formulate an appropriate response before Vivien disappeared into the keep. A firm hand clamped onto her shoulder, causing her to jolt.
Behind her, Garin nodded breathlessly to the king, giving her shoulder a discreet squeeze. “How shall I proceed, Your Majesty?”
Henri’s quivering mustache looked as if it would detach in the wind. “Well? Let’s get on with it, then. Grant our future queen her the crown. Do it now!” He nodded at Garin and took his seat. “I need a goddamn drink,” he muttered into the queen’s ear.
Garin nodded, taking his place back at the front of the battlement. Lilac faced him and raised her hand, willing herself to refocus despite the storm of whispers that had sieged the audience below.
“Your Royal Highness,” he read from the shadow of his hood. “Will you, to the utmost of your power, maintain the laws of God, the profession of the gospel and religion established by law,