Fiona’s POV.
The morning of my coronation went as well as expected considering the threat of violence hanging over us.
I tried to remain calm, I tried to smile while Sonia - one of the maids in charge of my hair and make up - prattled on and on about what a pretty Luna I’d be, I tried to stop myself from shaking as I climbed the stairs that led to a small back room hidden from the view of the crowd by a red curtain, I tried to breathe in and out when the priest that was hurriedly ordained and put to preside over my coronation started speaking.
But I couldn’t do any of that, I wasn’t calm. I was shaking so much that I could feel it and I was barely able to breathe - whether that was the fault of the tight corset or of the memory of the letter the rebels left yesterday replaying over and
