Novel & Cerita King Edward Vii Chair

The coronation. His hand did not land on the chair. Instead, he grasped the side of its heavy frame. With a soft, grating sound against the floor, he pulled it away from the table. He moved it back, out of the commanding position, and angled it slightly toward the wall, turning it from a throne into a piece of furniture. A relic respectfully retired. The board members stared, utterly bewildered.

The King’s Chamber is a miniature version of the Throne Room, down to the fabric used for the Elders' seats. The seats are standing on what looks like a grandstand, one on each side of the room. Elder Jeff is sitting in a seat in the middle of the room, making everyone look down on him. Our seats are on a platform, facing the door and whoever is sitting in the defendant’s bench or whatever you want to call it.

There was a short bookcase along a wall under three large odd paintings. Edward’s desk was along the far wall. He also had a corner view with floor to ceiling windows as two of the walls in his office. There were two modern white leather chairs in front of his desk. They looked like the ones in the waiting room but more like an upgraded version. Edward’s desk was sleek and black with a glass top. His chair was white leather with black outlines. He had very little clutter on his desk, just a computer monitor and an iPad.

Beneath it, on its corners, sat two golden lions, designed to look as if they were holding up the chair. Caitlin examined it in awe. "King Edward's chair," said the vampire. “The coronation throne for kings and queens for thousands of years. A very special piece of furniture—not only for its place in history, but because it holds one of the keys for our kind.” She turned and looked at Caitlin. "We have been guarding this throne for thousands of years. Now that you are here, and now that you have unlocked the scepter, it is time for you to take your rightful place.”

VI The throne room was empty that day, nobody entered, and nobody exits. Lord Iritain and Lord Gertan looked at the throne, an uncomfortable wooden chair. That chair was used as a throne for three generations. There must be secret to why it is used. “I still don't get it, why they use this chair?” Lord Iritain looked at the arm rests, they were ordinary arm rests. They was nothing strange about them. “It keeps them focused on the speaker.” Lord Gertan said behind him.

He could see it right in her eyes that she wants just the same. “I will take you to your throne,” she said and led the way while he followed with his entourage. Getting to the podium where a nice roll of chairs has been set for the ten High Council chiefs, there was a big red throne sitting right in the middle of the ten chairs. Genevieve and the rest of the chiefs bowed as Edward sat majestically on his throne and he realized that from his spot, he could see every part of the arena.

"I want to be present for the installation." "You want to check his joint quality." He looked at me. "Yes," he said. I handed the floor plan back to him. "I have one request," I said. "Yes?" "The chair. Get the one from the east wing sitting room. The green one with the wide arms." He looked at the floor plan. He picked up the pen. He changed the notation. Chair — green, east wing sitting room, wide arms. He blew on the ink. He handed it back to me.

The air in the chamber was thick—stagnant, smelling faintly of cedar, candle wax, and something sharper beneath, a sterile tang that didn’t belong in a place that looked like a cathedral. Weston’s throne sat in the center, not on a dais but in a pit of light, illuminated by a circle of suspended bulbs that swayed almost imperceptibly. It was not a king’s seat. It was a god’s chair—high-backed, built of blackened steel with veins of gold running down its arms. Savannah’s eyes moved to the walls, and that was when her knees almost buckled. There were portraits. Three of them.

That was useful. "Ivory Ashwood," the chair said. "Yes," I said. "Please be seated." I sat. Edward looked at me for the first time across the chamber. I looked back. He was expecting the girl from the basement. He was expecting the girl from the mating ball — controlled, careful, operating from behind eighteen years of practiced invisibility. He was expecting someone he could talk over and document around and reduce to a legal question that his very good counsel could address in terms that buried her underneath the language.

He says in a way that tells me it’s not really a suggestion. “Yes, sir.” I head upstairs, hoping that whatever him and Raven talk about, he won’t be angry with her about what he caught us doing. Or worse, that he won’t tell mom later. Raven I hurry into Edward’s office, hoping I can get the flush of my embarrassment to fade before he comes in. It’s only another minute and the way he looks at me tells me I was not successful. He gestures to a pair of chairs in the corner. The wood is a dark cherry color with soft pale green cushions. I can tell when I sit that they haven’t been used in a while, but they’re still comfortable.