Twisted is the crown

Mitaldra

THE SCARS OF THE ISIYA are impossible to hide. It doesn’t matter how much concealer you cake on the wound, it will always shine true. I’ve grown found of my scar, although thinking about it brings me back to that mind numbing pain I try so hard to forget. My handmaiden, Gretel, puts the finishing touches on my hairstyle, setting the jeweled crown on my head. I see her smile through the mirror before me. Its infectious.

She does a good job, and I silently admire myself. The scar is still painfully obvious. It reaches my left eye—now my blind eye—and curves towards the nape of my neck. An ugly thing it is, but as its not possible to remove or hide it as you would a mole or scab, I’ve grown used to it.

Sometimes the people at my court ask where the scar came from. Its always one lie or the other. Run in with a deer, an attempt at harming myself, maybe I slipped and fell down the stairs. Only two have ever discovered the reality of the scar.

They breathe no more.

My red raven silk dress has been embellished with golden embroidery. Paired with my crown of expensive translucent rocks, I look almost goddess like. It takes a special kind of vanity to stare at yourself in the mirror for hours on end, but many who don’t have it will never understand how good it feels to simply look at yourself and love what you see. Well, almost. If only that scar was gone. . .

“Nikka,” the door opens. I turn, greeted with the sight of Dahed, my stepbrother. He smiles when he sees what I’m wearing, and I twist around, letting the dress flow freely. The gold rings on my legs clink.

“You look amazing.” He says. “Now, do you feel amazing?”

“I never do.” I fake a laugh. He doesn’t even notice, laughing along with me. “Are you going to tell me why you want to hold a special meeting with the nobility?”

“I will not.” That’s a surprise for later.

“Ok, keep your secrets.” He says, sitting on the soft bed behind me. I turn to meet him, narrowing my eyes ever so slightly.

“Don’t you have a wife you need to be seeing, Dahed?”

“She’s asleep.”

“She wont be attending the special assembly? Pity.” I feign sadness. If Dahed notices my lie, he doesn’t comment. He stares out the window, hanging his head heavily to look out at the snowy peaks of Vahaltmir. Frost has already settled itself onto the outside of my windowsill, caking the edges of the glass in teal. Inside, the crackling fire keeps us warm, but outside is a storm in and of itself.

The door opens again, and Gretel returns with the finishing for the outfit. She drapes my body in an outer layer of shimmering jade crystals. Its a neckpiece that almost drags against the floor when I walk. Beautiful and intimidating.

“The noble houses have arrived, my queen.” She says, her voice quiet but strong. Even though she only stands at a measly four and a half feet, Gretel is respected among the servants. One look at me and you’ll know she’s good at what she does.

I stand up straight, my translucent jade heels giving me an almost giant’s height at six foot three inches. I tower over Dahed, and as to intention, most people at the assembly.

“I’ll be in here if you need me.”

One final look in the mirror assures me. “Don’t worry Gretel. I wont.”

THE ONLY SOUND IN THE throne room are my heels clicking against the stone floors. Great stone podiums hold up the glass tapestry on the roof, and behind the throne frosted sunlight streams in through blotted glass.

The large room is choked full of the noble houses and their members. There are only six houses, but each of them carries a sprawling amount of members. In the crowd I see the familiar crest of the house I married my now deceased husband from. House Cidarian stands tall, each member flaunting their crest on their inscribed grass green uniforms. The golden direwolf told me all I needed to know about them then. Strong. Agile. Powerful.

Now it tells me who I need to crush beneath my heel.

I flash a radiant smile when walk atop the dais to the copper podium set on it. Placing my hands on the cold metal, I start.

“Imea Nkwaraga. Good morning.” I begin, taking a deep breath. Everyone in the crowd rises at the same time and bows, as is customary during assemblies. After I beckon them to sit, I catch the eyes of Margae Cidarian. Her light brown eyes seem to burrow into mine, and I instinctively dig my blood red nails deeper into the tarnished metal beneath me.

“I am here to make a special proposition to the highest of the two hundred noble houses.” I say. I can already see their ears perked in interest. This may be easier than I anticipated.

“House Cidarian, house Vultara, house Koviria, house Adler and house Blackburn. The direwolf, the vulture, the kraken, the eagle and the Fikawa. I must first commend the Lords and ladies of these houses for their impeccable job throughout the years. You are all gemstones in the nobility.”

The Lord of house Adler, Alastair, joins Margae in watching me closely. His amethyst staff has the head of am embroidered eagle as its hold, and he taps his wrinkled old fingers on it as he stares intently.

I lick my lips and continue. “I have a new proposition.”

Silence hangs over the crowd. Its so quiet I can hear my own heart beat against my ribcage. For a few seconds I don’t say anything and let magical earth energy leave my body, bathing me in a mystical light. I must let them know I am in control.

As a Jiakka leading a primarily human kingdom, no expense must be spared in showing my dominance. If this was a mainly Jiakka nation, tribe elders and their house members would be seated before me, not nobility. Jiakka nations don’t have nobility.

I begin, “Vahaltmir has fallen on hard times. Terrible times. The Vahaltmirian coin doesn’t measure up to what it used to. We are growing weak. We are easy targets, and we have do something drastic to claw our way out of this.”

“And what do you suggest?” Rhys Vultara, Lord of the Vultara house, stands, supporting himself with his cane. He is an old man—annoyingly old. He should have bitten the dust by now.

“I’ve already done something. It is terribly drastic, I know, but not without reason.” A ghost of a smile plays on my lips.

Margae understands what I’m talking about before I even have to speak the words. She stands, voice echoing round the throne room. “Malady you most certainly do not mean—”

“The plan is to take Gaia.” I choke out, and she looks at me with a face that’s a cross between disgusted and infuriated. She marches forward, burgundy kaftan dragging against the floor behind her.

“That’s excessive, your highness! You don’t have to resort to such measures!” She says, and the shell shocked crowd murmurs in agreement with her. “We have a

good relationship with Gaia. They are our ally, Mitaldra!”

“They are the strongest, closest and most convenient kingdom to take. If we succeed, we will send a message to all the other kingdoms.”

Alastair Adler stands, his eagle staff shaking beneath him as he stands beside Lady Margae. His old skin dangles on his face like earrings. “Mitaldra, a fruitful alliance is worth much more than this. Do you know how much if our apparently already dwindling economy is going to be affected by this shift? This is not just a decision you make on a whim.”

I dig my nails even further into the metal to stop myself from using my affinity against them. I need their army if I am to march Gaia again.

“Alastair, Margae,” Rahgon Koviria stands, his scarlet frock coat reaching the ground before him. He is the youngest of the Lords at only twenty four or so years. He seems to live on chicken and brandy if his size has anything to say about it. “Queen Mitaldra is more than right. Being a leader is not easy, and she has obviously thought this through.”

“Seizing an entire kingdom is the easy way out.” The Blackburn’s pitch into the debate. Lady Blonos of the Blackburn’s steps forward. She is the only member of the nobility that stands taller than me without heels. At six foot six, she might as well be a walking turret. She wears raven coloured gown and her hair is embroidered with silver pins.

“If we choose to take Gaia, we also lose their allies. Did you think of that, your highness?”

I grit my teeth as my abilities involuntarily surge out. Part of the rusted metal podium twists into itself, and Lady Blonos takes a step back, staring at me with an undiscernible expression on her face.

“Everyone has a price, Blonos. Everyone likes gold.” A smile plays on my lips. “This meeting was to ask for the military involvement of your houses. Gaia has already fallen.”

A mixture of shock and anger ripples through the crowd. Margae’s eyes widen, and some of the Cidarian guards hold her down as she bares her teeth. The pandemonium almost brings a smile to my lips.

“Silence!” I shriek, and a hush again falls on the room. After a few seconds of silence, I almost continue before someone else cuts me off.

“The monarchy is dead?” Rahgon steps forward. “When did this happen?”

“I am yet to receive word from the men I sent. Some of them were tasked with the murder of the monarchy, and some were tasked with bringing down the palace.”

“Are you mad?” Alastair’s voice, while still classy as usual, holds a dark undertone. “I refuse to give up use of my legion for a tyrant such as yourself.”

For a few seconds I stare at Alastair, laughter playing on my lips. “You...refuse?”

His expression changes from sure to confused, but he still tries to keep his elegant stride. Well, as elegant as he can be wobbling on a stick. “I refuse.” He seethes.

I stare at the sharp red nails on my fingers, watching them intently. Magic seeps into me from the ether, running through my veins. Waiting for me to strike. It feels like I’ve been lifted from the ground as the pure energy surges through me.

“You refuse?”

“My people are for defense only.” He says firmly, and staring at him, and old sack of flesh, I almost feel bad. Against the golden glow of candles, he almost looks innocent.

I point my fingers at him. Everyone else in the crowd watches, and some of the noble lords and ladies standing take a step back from Alastair. The old man shakes as the ground under his feet trembles. I let my energy flow through me as the ground under his feet shoots out of the stone of the floor. He screams as he is hoisted up into the air, his cane falling and shattering on the ground below. The nobles shout and scream as chaos breaks out in room. Where Alastair stood there is now a gaping hole in the ground, and he holds onto the small block under his feet as I use my abilities to raise him higher and higher, up to the tapestry on the roof painted on glass.

“Help! Help!” Alastair yells, struggling for hold on the small round chunk of stone. His wife, Lady Myria, steps out of the crowd and screams for her husband. Instinctively, everyone except the guards flanking me take a step back.

I flatten him against the searing heat of the glass tapestry roof. Sunlight streams directly into his old, dying eyes as I struggle against the shuddering in my bones to continue feeding him pain like the hungry bastard dog he is.

Myria charges at me but I simply raise my left hand, creating a wall of stone between herself and me. She slams her skull onto the dense stone, falling backwards onto the floor.

The sound of bone breaking fills the room. Looking back up towards Alastair, I see his skin is bruised and blistered from being pressed against the heat of the roof. One of his hands flops lifelessly, and from the way its positioned I can tell its broken.

“Do you refuse, Alastair?” I scream up at him. His wife cries on the floor, and when his house members try to hurt me my guards stop them, creating an eventual circle flanking me on all sides. As planned, the rest of my guards stand by the exits of the room so that nobody can escape. Everyone here is trapped in my cocoon of madness.

“Do you refuse, Alastair?” I ask again. He cant answer, his lips and body pressed tightly against the roof on a chunk of rock, bleeding internally. However, from his eyes I see the glassy touch of surrender. With a heavy sigh, I let go. Once I do, the chunk of stone that was lifted by my powers falls, Alastair falling with it. I turn around as a loud smash rings through the room.

“Ale! Ale!” Myria runs to him, kneeling beside him as she kisses his hands. “Alastair, are you alright? Speak to me. Speak to me.”

I don’t know and don’t care if Alastair Adler is dead. What matters is that now these people will listen to me. They have to.

“I am not even going to give you the illusion of choice.” I shout once I have positioned myself at the podium again. “Surrender your armies or die a miserable death.”

Margae’s eyes bore into my soul, but it doesn’t affect me anymore. She may put up the act of a fair and just woman, but that’s what it is. An act. As I so wisely put it, everyone has a price.

Hers is her life.

“MITALDRA, THIS IS NOT RIGHT!” Dahed storms into the now emptied throne room. The hall has been darkened by night, candles positioned against the walls bathing it in a golden yellow light. I didn’t even realize he wasn’t at the assembly. I was too focused on everything else.

Behind Dahed is his wife Lady Aeida. Fair skinned and petit, Aeida and I have never really spoken to each other. I of course have talked to her father King Yehkan of Geyortia, but she’s awfully boring. Then again, my definition of ‘fun’ isn’t very regular.

Dahed and Aeida stop a few steps from the dais to my throne of silver. They are both infuriated, but Aeida most likely wont say anything. She’ll speak through my brother.

“Please tell me what I heard isn’t true, Nikka.” Dahed says, angered. “Why would you do that? This could incite a civil war!”

I find myself rolling my eyes. “Grow up, Dahed. Sacrifices have to be made for the betterment of the lives of the people of this—”

“Don’t feed me that crap, Nikka.” He says, fuming. He grips Aeida’s palms with a force. I narrow my eyes at him, fingers dancing across the metal of the throne. He sees so easily through me. I would admire it, but most likely it’ll just get him killed. “Nikka, you didn’t do this because ‘the kingdom is on hard times.’

Nobody can turn on an ally that fast. You want something.”

“What I want is none of your business, Dahed.” I say. “Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Like what? Are you going to hurt me?” He mocks.

I don’t let a beat pass before I stand, walking down the dais. Even though he claims to not be afraid, he holds Aeida’s hands and takes a step back. The sound of my jade heels clacking against the ground echoes until I am only a few inches from Dahed’s face. Like he sees through me, I see through him. He is afraid.

“You are human, stepbrother. You have limits.” I grab his finger, twisting it sharply to the left. I hear bone c***k and he yelps in pain, falling to his knees before me. “I do not.”

Whimpering in fear, Aeida takes two steps back. She places her palms around her lips, muffling her anxiousness. I have no intention of hurting her, at least, not yet. She hasn’t done anything to deserve pain.

“You...you cant divide the kingdom, Nikka.” He breathes as I continue twisting his already damaged finger. “I will burn everything until I have what I want.”

“L-leave him alone...” Aeida mutters, moving closer to her husband. “Please. He’s sorry. He’ll apologize.”

“Not anytime soon, Aeida.” He pets her head with his free hand. I watch with curiosity as he writhes from my grip, staggering to stand on his own two legs. “You are naive if you believe the people of this kingdom will go down without a fight. Margae is more hard headed than you think.”

“Everyone values their life,” I say, moving closer to Aeida. She shivers under my touch, and Dahed wrenches my palms away from her. I smirk, turning around and walking back towards the dais. “Its human nature, Dahed. They will protect themselves from hurt, no matter the cost.”

“I always knew you were stubborn. But to murder? To kill innocent people?”

I cant help but laugh at him. He calls me naive. Dahed is a victim of his own lies, the intertwined webs he spins inside his own head. That hollow skull of his will lead him to a headless grave one day.

“Everyone has blood under their fingernails, Dahed. You not believing that is a sign that there’s nothing in your brain but spider webs and dung balls.”

He grits his teeth, and Aeida has to hold him back as he barrels forward. With a wave of my hand I raise the ground before him a few feet, leaving him to scream as he falls backwards onto his own spine.

I don’t want to hurt Dahed, believe me, I don’t. I grew up with him. Despite not being from the same mother, we are close. Raising the ground on him is something I would never do. Its like I wasn’t in control of my own body, as strange as it would be to believe.

“Are we done?”

He groans, getting up from the floor as I lower the ground back to its original form. It requires little power from the ether and is relatively easy.

He spits blood and bile from his bruised inner lip onto the stone floors. Aeida flinches, staring at him and massaging his back as she coughs.

She still cant muster the courage to speak to me. Maybe its better that way. Maybe she’ll actually get out of the coming war alive.

Dahed coughs, spitting blood. “Believe me, this will come back to bite you in the ass.”

I pick up the serrated blade sheathed by the side of the throne and walk down to him, raising his chin with the sharp edge. “I hope so, brother. I’m itching for a fight.”

THE ROAD GIVES WAY TO a forest of tall, thin trees. Their bright green leaves prevent most of the starlight from crossing through, so the enclose ends up being dark and musty. It smells of sap and pine, and I hold out my torch with my left hand, my right gripping the reins of my horse, Sarabi.

In my pouch the oil stained parchment is rolled up and tied with an elastic band, and beyond, some where deep in the silver-black thicket, a serpentine hunts for its prey. The path forward is long and winding, and with every step Sarabi takes a cloud of brown dust is kicked up into the air. By the light of my torch, each individual particle dances.

I play the old man’s words in my mind again. Find the river in the rihngrass forest that boasts a colour like molten steel. Stand before it, and raise your torch to the starlit skies. Then you shall see the camp.

“What’s with all these idiots and their vague instructions?” I whisper to myself as I keep watch for the parting to the river. I’ve been to the Isiya camp once, and it was so long ago I’ve already forgotten where I found it.

Raise your torch to the starlit skies.

I look around for where the thickness of rihngrass trees start to thin. After a few wrong assumptions, I find another path hidden beneath underbrush where the trees are less condensed. Now I can see the stars, the moon, and the soft light that reflects onto the leaves of the trees.

After a whirlwind of a day, I revel in the chance to simply relax. Today has been far from simple, and I have done things I regret, but I must continue to do so. After tasting the power of the Isiya, stopping now is equivalent to killing myself.

The minutes blend into hours as Sarabi rides forward through the path. After what feels like hours, Sarabi stops at the muddy bank of a large, calm river. Part of the water is dark so I cant properly see what lies below.

Sarabi neighs as I leash her to the trunk of one of the rihngrass trees. She stamps her hoof onto the marshy ground, neighing again. Annoyed, I open my pouch and feed it before turning around and walking on the muddy river borders.

I stop just as my toes touch the water. It is cold, not uncomfortably cold, but cold enough to make me shiver. Slowly, I raise my torch to the stars. I hold it up for a good five minutes before the ground beneath my feet begins to shake. I take a step back, scrambling for Sarabi to hold. The rocks on the ground tremble vehemently.

When the shaking stops, I let go of Sarabi. The water begins to part through the middle, and stone stairs shift out from the river side. The flight of stairs is damp and goes down beyond where the flame of my torch reaches. I turn around and watch Sarabi flare her snout.

“I’ll be back.”

After placing a foot on the first step to check, I start my descent down the winding dirt and stone. Each step is still layered with a sheen of water, so I have to be careful as I walk. Every movement I make is carefully planned.

Soon I’m so deep down I can’t see anything except for the areas my now dying torch touches. The steps soon retreat into a long corridor down below the bottom of the river carved with intricate markings. Water drips from the roof above me, creating an echo. The water on the floor reaches just below my ankles.

My flame dies out before I make it to the end of the hall.

As I walk through the darkness, with nothing better to do, I am forced to think once more. These woods hold memories old and worn by time, and the sight of rihngrass trees still brings tears to my eyes. I can hear his voice telling me to get up every time I fell down. Then he was struck down.

The memory seems to slap me clear across the face every time. I try not to think of it often, but whenever I do, its increasingly difficult to stop. At least I’m getting another Isiya today. Another scar.

Another part of myself I must fight to love.

“ITS BEEN A LONG TIME since I’ve seen you, your highness.” The old man says when I step into the underground fortress, legs dripping and wet. He is a short, hunched man, with three visible scars on his chin, left leg and arm. The grand room before me is carved out of stone, with candles lining the walls. Several men, woman and children move around, playing, talking and learning.

“I almost forgot what you looked like.” I say. The old man smiles. I’m sure he told me his name the last time I came here, but I don’t remember it one bit.

The man presses his lips to his fingers and makes a whistling sound. The rest of the people in the small camp turn to stare at me, and I adjust my height, standing tall. To look powerful is to be powerful.

“We have another customer.” He says, and beckons for someone in the crowd to come. A young woman holding a staff walks towards me, staring intently. She has dark brown shaded skin and a wild afro that’s so big it reaches her neck. I notice the markings on her staff, but its been so long I’ve all but forgotten what they meant.

The camp is very homey, and on its other side a group of children sit around an old woman telling a story. The fire behind them crackles, and suddenly I see a pair of fingers snapping in front of my face.

“Do you have the coin?” She asks.

I open my leather bag and plant a small velvet pouch of coins in her palm. She weighs it and inspects the interior, counting each coin individually.

“Is that enough?” I ask knowingly.

She almost smiles, closing up the pouch. “More than. Is this your first time?”

“Second.”

“Where’s the parchment that was given to you?” she asks, her eyes still focused on the gold coin. I open my bag again, giving it to her. She unrolls it, checking it to make sure it hasn’t been defaced over time.

“Kamara.”

“What?”

“My name. Kamara.” She moves to the other side of the large room, opening a painted black drawer. She brings out a feather quill inside a glass case, and sighs as she beckons me into a stairwell.

I follow her up the flight of stairs, my bones sore. After a few minutes I follow her into up a dark corridor and into an even darker room. There are no lamps in the room, no candles. I cant even tell how big the room is.

“Sit.”

I follow her instruction, sitting on the floor. It feels like a rug, but softer. Furrier. There weren’t any rugs when I came here last. I remember that at least.

“There wasn’t a rug here when I last came.”

“Hinre forced us to add one. He said the old process was far too painful. Sometimes, people didn’t make it.”

“Does it help with the pain?”

“No.” Kamara laughs. “Not in the least.” After a few minutes of staring and waiting, she starts asking me the standard questions. “What affinity do you want added?”

“Speed.” I say, and I almost hear her chuckle as she writes something down onto the parchment. “The affinity you added last was strength I assume?”

“Yes.”

She laughs again. “Ok. Now I have to tell you a few things—”

“I’ve done this before. I know what to do.”

“Its protocol, queenie. I don’t want to do it as much as you don’t want to hear it.” She says, sighing as she starts. “I want to tell you a few things about Isiya. Isiya is the process of giving yourself another affinity apart from the one you were conceived with. Affinities gifted by Isiya can be regular, like flaming and tiding, or abilities that are not given naturally like speed, strength, teleportation and omnipresence.”

The speech continues on, and she says the usual things. It is very painful, it usually leaves a mark...the regular.

“Are you really running out of it?” I ask once she’s done talking. Kamara nods, sighing as she kneads her fingers through her hair.

“These are our last few of the gemstone. Two more customers and its over.” She sighs.

“So I can’t get more Isiya’s?”

“If you can get them before the other two people then yes. But after that, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

I had hoped I remembered wrong. There’s no way I can live without more. With more than two affinities I would hold so much power that everyone will have no choice but to bow.

Once she’s done, she makes me confirm that I’ve understood, then instructs me to lie down on the fur carpet. I take a clump of it in my hand, stilling myself and taking deep breaths. A spray of water hits my face, and I choke out, gasping for air before Kamara pushes my head back to the ground.

I’m panting and cold and my shirt is plastered to my body with water as the young Jiakka places her palms on my damp forehead, beginning her chant. At first, there is no pain. For a second, it even feels good. The more Isiya I have, the stronger I become.

When the pain starts, it feels like being flung face first into a bed of sharpened needles.

I scream in blood curling agony. My body feels like its being ripped apart then prodded with swords, and its the most horrific thing I think I’ve ever felt. My body writhes as I cant process this much pain at once. The skin on my legs is opening up, and from inside glowing yellow light bursts out.

I try to endure, I try to keep going, but with every second the ritual continues a part of me is sawed away. I feel the Isiya race through my veins like a parasite. The speed at which it does sends tremors through my form in surges.

“Its almost over. Its almost over.” I can barely hear Kamara over the sound of my own torment. I feel my forehead shifting apart as if dug out by someone with blade sharp fingernails. The magic makes its way into my brain, and as my body is separated flesh to bone and bone to flesh, a golden light erupts in the room.

“A—are you ok?” Kamara sounds more distant than before as my body rattles and shakes, light exploding from every limb. “Something is wrong! Kamoia te Mø!”

Very faintly I hear her leaving the room as it is drowned in golden light. I feel the Isiya’s signature scar carve its way through my flesh as I feel my back leave the fur carpet. I cant even process what is happening anymore. It’s all chaos.

“What did you do?” I hear another voice.

“Is she still alive?”

“Did you kill the Queen?” Another voice I don’t know. Is everyone here? Is something really wrong?

I want to tell them to stop the t*****e, but I cant bring my mouth to make any words. “I didn’t do anything, mama!” Kamara yells. I cant feel her presence. She’s most likely outside the room.

I stretch my hands as pricks that feel like needles dig through them, sewing my body back together. The pain subsides slowly as the light from my body dims. My heart stops pounding as hard as my eyes finally snap open. The lush carpet beneath me signals to me that the worst of it is over. Taking a deep breath, I press my hands to my chest.

“Look!” One of the camp elders says, pointing at me. “She’s fine.”

Kamara turns from an older woman and looks at me, a smile of relief crossing her face. I ball my fists. I could have died today. I could have died today.

I try to stand, but Kamara is quick to push me back down to the floor. “Getting another affinity is like growing another limb. You must give it time to rest.” “I shall stay here for the night, then.” I say, my voice firm.

Kamara raises her eyebrow, outstretching her palms. “That’ll be five more coins.”