Chapter 68

How will I be buried?

I will never know. But at least I can imagine.

What is a royal funeral?

The annual budget of a big city, cast to the wind. A gilded coffin, black fabric of mourning over the entire capital, black horses of the funeral cortege, black-clad courtiers, flags at half-mast and mournful music, black and gold, black and gold everywhere.

Also everywhere are the hypocritical mourners, fake compassion written on their faces...snots... Mugs, that’s the word.

A royal funeral was also an occasion to present yourself before the people, claim your place at court. The procession was led by a servant of the Bright Saint, who walked through the city chanting prayers. He was followed by a carriage with the king’s coffin, driven by four black horses. Uncle’s closest family walked behind the coffin: Abigail and I. The queen was...

That day, she seemed especially fragile and martyr-like—black hair, white face, black dress, diamonds in her ears and on her neck, and a crown, of course. T