Chapter 18
“You are going to the Death Passing Ceremony. No discussion.” Gram’s tone is as cold as the marble stones in my bedchamber.
“I don’t care!” I snap, stomping my feet. “I have plans already. Besides, you don’t make Trisha go! You always treat her better.”
Grandma takes a deep breath and studies me.
Her golden eyes soften, and she drops onto the chair, gesturing for me to do the same.
I refuse. She shakes her head, and some onyx locks escape her bun; mine mirror hers, though they are more indigo.
Opening my jewellery cabinet, she pulls out the orange ruby given to me for my first century birthday.
She flips it between her fingers and for a moment, she looks tired, normal, not like a High Queen at all.
Tough shit. I am tired too.
Grams fixes me with a long stare, and I pat myself on the shoulder for resisting her manipulation.
“You know very well she is too young to witness it. Her time will come. Now it is yours.” Her tone is flat, bored. No energy wasted on sounding gentle while she rips my heart in half.
“But Gram, please! Dante is leaving right after the ceremony, and I haven’t seen him in two moons!” I sink into the plush mattress, hoping she will answer as my grandmother, not my Queen.
Dante and I have planned today’s supper for weeks. Chief Gerald is already on his way to fetch him.
“Seleste Berigander, you will listen to me,” she growls, a lion-like wrinkle forming on her forehead. “Go say your goodbyes to Dante. I will see you at the ceremony. You need to learn it, child.”
I don’t believe she is serious. I hate her.
“Yes, My Lady,” I drawl as I rise, circling her without a bow, then slam the door behind me.
She shoots her power and shrinks my jewellery so it hurts me, but I breathe through it and the pieces go back to their normal size. Slowly, I learn to shrug off her influence more and more. I know it bothers her, yet she does not comment.
Dante thinks it is great as it means I surpass her. I love him for his faith.
Jestin, on the other hand, always whines for more training. Killjoy.
I think back to the problem at hand. Disappointment overwhelms me. Tears escape despite my effort.
Gram always treats Trisha better. She can do more, while I am always supervised and judged. Unfair. Maybe I should tell Gram about Trisha sneaking off to the war camp.
I head to Dante’s room, intending to apologise for the rain-check. The palace hushes around me. I don’t mind. I don’t want small talk.
“Have you swallowed a toad?” Zulu mocks. I ignore her.
“You have no manners?” I snap. She smirks.
“I have no idea what he sees in you,” she mutters, and tears prick down my cheeks as I pass her.
Before my very eyes is a very naked Trisha. Her nonexistent tits bounce from the motion of Dante’s violent thrust into her behind.
I gape at them in shock, observing how their treacherous eyes widen in horror. They rush to cover themselves, Dante’s private snake slips from her ass, hanging offensively in my sight, slick with her juices.
“Sels, it was an accident! Sels, I am sorry!” they cry in unison.
Something wicked stirs inside me.
Glass shatters around us. Pain and rage collide, forcing me out of the room. My tears fall freely.
“I want to be alone,” I sob. The storm inside me grows uncontrollably.
Suddenly, I am no longer in the castle corridor.
I am in a dense, dark forest. Despite the darkness, the space feels welcoming.
A huge tree towers before me. Its roots form a natural seat.
I sink into the moss, and it holds me, comforting me.
I cry. Hard. The forest seems to respond, soothing me and empathising with my heartbreak.
Eventually sleep claims me, providing peace.
I am awakened by two guards shaking me. The forest has lost its magic. They pull me towards a portal shimmering between the trees, its light cold and unwelcoming. My feet drag through the dirt as the last traces of sleep slip away.
“Our apologies, Your Royal Highness,” Sir Nicolas says. “The Queen is livid. She has ordered you to be brought to the throne room immediately.”
I swallow, worry rising. I missed the ceremony. Gram must be furious.
We step into the room, and I’m shocked to see that just about everyone who lives in the castle is gathered. My heart sinks. I pass Trisha without acknowledgement, but Dante is absent.
“Seleste?”
I stop before my Grandparents and bow.
“I am s— ”
“Seleste Berigander, for disobeying my direct order, you are stripped of your duty as Heir. Trishiana assumes your position.” Gram’s words send a cold terror through me.
“But Grandma, you have no idea what she did!” I plead, raising my voice, desperately wanting to explain what happened as soon as possible.
“Seleste, child, I am your High Queen; you will not talk back to me,” she growls, rising to her feet.
I hear more than a few gasps beside me.
“Grandpa, please, make her listen!” I pivot to him; he always helps me when she loses her temper. I beg, but his expression stays hard and uncaring, unlike him at all.
“No love, I’ve indulged you long enough. That’s not the case anymore. You’ve disappointed me. Your privileges end now. I hope some hunger and a good beating will make you understand,” Grandpa says, and I weep in response. His blasé demeanour hurts me even more than Trisha’s betrayal.
How can he say something like that? I am so furious, I can’t breathe normally.
“That’s so unfair. That bitch fucked Dante!” I hiccup, losing control. I have never been so upset in my entire life. The wicked force wakes up again and pours into my veins. Highlighting my anger, overshadowing other emotions.
I am nothing but wrath.
“I did no such things!” She lies.
I will peel the skin from that monster of a sister. I look around the throne room, but no one is sympathetic; all of them look down, even my fucking friends. No one helps.
I am alone.
“I won’t be hearing any more lies. Guards, take her,” my Grandma orders.
Guards approach me, but I fight them back, in desperate need to punish the cockroach.
I meet Trisha’s gaze, and she dares to smirk.
I growl and throw myself at her, but before I am able to reach that treacherous bitch, I am jerked back with so much force I fall flat to my arse with a loud thud.
There’s an iron collar on my fucking throat, and my Grams is holding the leash.
She treats me like a human cattle in front of the entire court, stripping away every shred of dignity. Helplessness claws at me, and the injustice burns hotter than any shame.
“You are a disgrace, Seleste,” she chastises, and I face her, releasing the dominance I carry.
I hate her. I hate her. I hate everyone. I FUCKING HATE EVERYONE.
Seleste!
“You know,” I spit, “I HOPE YOU WILL ALL FUCKING DIE!” I scream from the bottom of my heart, unleashing the pain, anger, and the built-up resentment for their wrongdoings.
When the last word stops echoing in the throne room, I hear a loud thump, then another, then another and soon, a clatter of it.
I turn and see my friends, aunts, cousins, all of them hitting the ground.
My heart pounding, I seek my Grams, looking for an explanation, but she stands very still. Then her hand opens and the leash drops to the ground, disappearing. I search her familiar golden eyes, so much like mine, and there’s something there… sympathy.
Before I can understand why, she collapses too, her head hitting the hard floor with a sickening thud.
“Seleste!!!!!”
I sprint to her.
“Grams!!!!!” The soul-wrecking scream comes out of my heart. I drop to my knees and I grab her head from the floor. I strain my ears to listen for a breath.
Her chest doesn’t rise. She is completely still. I turn to my Grandpa, but he’s the same.
They both lie unmoving on the ground.
Everybody is down. I check one, then another, then another, then another, and another.
My cousins, my aunts, my uncles, my friends, guards, nobles.
Trisha.
“Trisha!!!” My sister. Oh my Gods. My sister.
“No, no, no, no, no!”
“Please, please, please.”
“What have I done, what have I done?”
“Gorok, please,” I scream for so long my throat is sore, then I turn my head to the windows in the naive hope that He will hear me better and undo the unspeakable crime, but the only answer is the painful silence.
I look into myself, trying to summon the cursed power, but it is resting inside me now, not bothered to even stir in response to my attempts.
“What am I going to do now? What should I do?”
I lift Trisha from the floor, and her sagging head smacks against a chair with a sharp crack. I wince at the impact, but I don’t stop.
I pull her next to Grams.
They should be together.
Then I drop to the floor.
“I didn’t mean to,” I wail, but only the echo responds in the lifeless room.
The doors to the throne room rip open. Chief Gerald barges inside.
He will know what to do; he always does. I raise from my feet to run to him, but he jerks back in such horror that I stay rooted where I am. Between my family.
“What’s happened…” he asks, and in a few long strides, he shortens the distance between us.
“I didn’t mean to.” I wail in heartbreak, my head pounding from crying, and ugly snot runs from my nose.
“Please fix it, please!!”
His eyes dart around the room, then jerks his head towards where Grandpa lies. The unmistakable pain of a father who has lost a child etches across his face. He grips his throat and presses his hands to his heart.
“Get the fuck out of here!” He cries out, and my power rushes to defend me; the scream of pain escapes his lips, he drops to the ground, writhing in mental agony.
“You killed him.” He chokes out the words. “You stole the throne.”
He is right.
I stole the throne. I stole the throne. I stole the throne. I stole the throne.
I need to flee. I need to run.
I take a last look at my family. Unmoving, dead on the marble. I run, tripping over Sir Nicolas.
The moment I bolt out of the room, I vomit.