Chapter 1 #2
The princess wilted. Her shoulders sagged, strength waning under the relentless pressure of her mother’s will. “I am… not sure if I can continue,” she tried, her words barely wisps.
“You have a duty to the crown,” the queen reproached. “Or do I need to remind you why we are in this position?” Every word was a lash, driving Alethea deeper into her own sense of inadequacy, her helplessness.
“No, Your Majesty.” Shame burned her cheeks. She was already haunted by her failures every moment of every day. Steeling herself, she placed her hand back on Great Lord Arranil’s shoulder.
“Tell me why. Why did the Great Lord of Ephesus think it was a good idea to cross his queen? What made him think he could possibly win against us?”
Facts were easy. Would it rain today? What year had the Great Flowering begun?
Who would be the next sovereign of Azmarin?
These were all easy questions for her to answer.
Motivations and desires were more complex, like trying to claw at a mud puddle, but she took a deep breath and dove as far into her powers as she could, fighting the nausea and the dizziness.
Her grip on his shoulder was all that kept her from swaying as the room began to spin.
“Goran Arranil never forgave Aikat Onasis for his coup against the Hasan family. He believes the late king used religious fear-mongering and corrupt threats to convince the other Great Lords to join his side.” Alethea could imagine the events through her own knowledge of what had taken place before she was born.
They appeared in her mind like old paintings, flickering through an incomplete story.
She didn’t notice her knees buckling from the effort of wading through the Weave’s delicate strands. Each word was a struggle to get out as she found the last dregs of her font of magic.
“Since the assassination of Evanthia and Lazaros Hasan ten years ago, he has been plotting to seek revenge and restore balance to the kingdom. He believes the Hasan family… are the rightful rulers… that Nakir Hasan is the rightful king… that the Onasis family are usurpers, and… your rule is corrupt and illegitimate.”
Alethea’s prophecy ended as she collapsed on the grimy stone floor. Her head spun and throbbed, and the contents of her stomach pushed up into her throat.
“Useless girl. Get up. We’re not done here.”
She wanted to cry, but she held it deep within her chest, digging her nails into her palms as she fought the urge to break down. She could just see in her peripheral vision Goran Arranil’s stunned expression and the flicker of concern in his eyes, intensifying her humiliation even further.
The Great Lord finally spoke, his words coming out in a low rasp. “If I knew you were going to use your daughter like this, I would have just confessed.”
Alethea barely heard his voice, but it was deep and filled with disgust.
Zenobia inspected her nails, cold, unyielding, and bored. “My daughter is the reason we are in this situation, and she knows that very well. How I choose to use her gifts in the name of the Kingdom of Lenorea is my own decision and my right as sovereign.”
“You are a monster,” Goran spat, his words dripping with contempt.
Alethea felt her consciousness fraying at the edges, a strange mix of horror and fascination enveloping her as she witnessed Goran’s audacious defiance toward her mother.
“Aeshma’s vengeance upon you,” the man cursed, his voice carrying an ancient wrath that sent chills down her spine.
“I’m queen, Goran. Sacrifices must be made.
Alethea has everything a princess could ask for.
She’s never wanted a day in her life. And Aeshma’s vengeance is why the Hasan family no longer rules, if you remember correctly.
Your concern should be with your own daughter and that monster of a Hasan you sheltered. ”
“The gods will damn you for what you’ve done,” Goran hissed.
Alethea, still unable to muster the strength to rise, hung in limbo, caught between confusion and fear. She couldn’t understand why he was suddenly engaging her mother in this conversation, especially in the face of his execution. Was he deliberately goading her? What was the point?
“I make my own destiny,” Zenobia declared.
“No. You abuse your daughter to do that.”
“You and I both know you never wanted to be queen. It was all Aikat, and despite his treacherous ways, he did well enough while he lived.” Goran’s bitter laugh only added to the mounting tension.
“And when he died, the crown passed to you. I hope one day you see how disastrous your rule has been… over the kingdom, and over your daughter.”
His statement forced Zenobia to remember her daughter was present, and she scoffed at the state of her lying on the floor.
“Get up, girl.”
Heat flooded Alethea’s body as she felt her mother’s stare.
Too weak to move, she only whimpered pathetically on the ground as her mother crossed the room.
Zenobia rapped her bony knuckles on the heavy door three times, and within a moment, it opened, the summoned guard standing ready in the doorway.
“Get her up.”
She couldn’t see any of his features past his full armor, but even as she barely clung to consciousness, she could tell he was quite large.
He lifted her easily and with an unexpected tenderness.
Her stomach rolled at the look of pity from Goran, and tears blurred her vision, forcing her to close her eyes in shame.
Another figure entered the room then. Though she couldn’t see him, Alethea knew the chilling voice of Lord Melanthios Gregor, her mother’s most trusted advisor.
As the queen’s minister, he was responsible for all trade and commerce in the kingdom.
His and Zenobia’s partnership was incredibly fruitful for them both.
Unalarmed by the princess’s state, he made no acknowledgment of her at all.
“What is your decision, Your Majesty?”
“Goran Arranil is hereby stripped of his title of Great Lord of Ephesus. I find the entire Arranil family guilty of high treason. The punishment for this crime is execution. Lord Gregor, Miss Arranil is a deadly fire mage. Let the guards know she should be killed on sight. The lords and ladies of Ephesus shall also be punished for their crimes. I want the entire household executed, down to every last scullery maid.”
A part of Alethea anticipated Goran’s reaction, some form of protest or outcry, but it never came.
The man remained eerily still, his gaze fixed on her and the guard holding her tightly.
Alethea wondered what could possibly be going through his mind as her body protested against the abuse she’d put it through.
“And who is to be the new Great Lord of Ephesus?” Gregor pried, not bothering to hide the glee in his tone despite the current Great Lord being alive and present.
“You have a son, don’t you?” Zenobia asked flippantly. “Give it to him.”
Alethea heaved, and vomit splattered over the floor between the guard and Goran Arranil. Her mother scoffed, stepping back.
“Disgusting. Take her away.”
The guard bowed slightly, not nearly as awkwardly as Alethea would expect considering he was holding her in his arms. He stood upright again, exiting the room and carrying her back the way she’d come.
Alethea struggled to breathe, the ache in her chest sharpening.
How many times had she been carried back to her rooms like this, an empty vessel after serving her mother’s insatiable hunger for power?
Tears of embarrassment fell down her face, mingling with the dirt and grime on her skin from the dungeon floor.
Her purpose was singular: to keep the queen on her throne. She existed on one condition: usefulness. The moment she ceased to be useful, she suspected she would cease to exist at all.
She closed her eyes as fresh tears fell, allowing herself one brief moment to grieve for the life she might have lived; for the girl she had been before she learned survival meant obedience.
It cracked her open, that grief, sharp and fleeting, and she clung to it knowing she’d have to stitch herself whole again soon.
This was the cost of her safety; the atonement demanded for her failure.
This was her duty.
Several times on the way to her rooms, the dizziness overwhelmed Alethea to the point she begged to be set down.
The guard, whom she was sure she hadn’t met before, carefully held her long hair back while she heaved in an empty corridor.
He remained steadfast and silent, which was no small kindness.
She had the thought, as she lost the rest of her lunch on the stone floor, he must be new.
No one else cared enough to treat her with such tenderness.
Her favor was not something to be coveted, as she held no power in court, and her mother was highly suspicious of anyone who got too close to her.
Though the trip felt like it took a year, the guard did return her to her chambers.
He placed her in bed, her muscles screaming as a fever burned her up.
She was still sweating, her now messy hair slicked back and tangled.
He didn’t leave right away, as the guards usually did.
In her haze, she sensed him lingering for a moment and thought he might have turned around to say something—but it must have been a trick of her eye, because when she blinked, he’d disappeared.
A wave of peace washed over her as a breeze came in through the far window, and she sank lower into bed.
It didn’t take long for Millicent to enter.
Alethea could only lie there in her misery as her handmaiden undressed and changed her like a helpless child, not the twenty-six-year-old woman she was.
Neither of them spoke. Millicent left her with a tray of tea and a few biscuits, and before the sun reached its highest peak in the sky, Alethea slipped into a deep slumber she wished she would never awake from.