Twisted is the crown

Quillion II

“QUILL, ARE YOU SURE YOU don’t want to practice one more time?” Lahle says as we both trudge along the beachside. Seagulls fly high in the air as the smell of seaweed hits our noses. Behind us is the palace, draped in vinery and gold arches. It sits just beyond a high cinderblock wall, and I can almost imagine father watching us through the window.

“I have practiced through the night already, Lahle.” I say. “I’m ready to show her.”

“You should listen, Quill. I’m older and I have way more life experience—” “You’re eight, Lahle. And not even by a full year.”

“Fine then.” She smiles, digging her feet into the sand. “But when your trick backfires...”

“Its not going to. I’m good at tiding.”

“Says who exactly?” She smiles, raising her eyebrows. “You could barely move a cup of water only a year ago.”

“You have a brain like an elephant.”

“Thank you for the compliment.” She drawls.

“You’re impossible.”

“See who’s talking.”

“You are just a bundle of sunshine today aren’t you?”

She grimaces at me and I turn around to hide my smile. In front of me and stretching out farther than my eyes can see is the ocean. The waves crash against the shore, almost l*****g my feet.

“Where’s mom?” She asks, and as if on cue, I hear another pair of footprints on the sand behind me. Turning around from the water I see my mother walking up to us, blue silk kaftan flowing behind her, carried by seaweed scented wind. The royal guard is never far away, only a few feet behind her at the divide between sand and stone.

My mother opens her arms wide and the two of us run into them. She laughs, squeezing us tight. “Deyko is still sick, so he cant come down and see your little

trick.” Her eyes glitter with excitement.

“Why cant aunty Niera just bring him in a stretcher or something to see it? He’ll miss all the best parts!”

Mother sucks in her teeth, looking for the right words. “Your aunt is...not easy to compromise with.”

“Is she an a*s?” Lahle asks.

Mother’s eyes widen. “Lahle! Language!” She reprimands, and I clear my throat, trying not to laugh.

Lahle playfully hits my shoulder. “Its not funny.”

Mother rolls her eyes, getting up from her crouch and dusting clumps of sand off her clothes. “Are you ready to show me your trick?”

Lahle begins before I can even get a word in. “I’m telling him to practice one more time but he—” “Lahle be quiet!”

“No you be quiet!”

“Hey!” Mother’s voice shuts the both of us up before we can continue our arguing. Lahle pouts her lips, but obeys and keeps her mouth shut. Sighing, mother runs her painted fingernails through her braids. “You children will be the death of me.”

“Can I show you the trick now?”

“Do, please.”

I grab her hand and pull her back towards the ocean side. She pulls up her kaftan so it doesn’t get wet from the water.

“If you hold it you wont see the best parts.”

“Quill, honey, I just washed this.”

I give her a look, and she sighs, dropping the hem of her dress to the floor. A small spray of water trickles over our legs. She looks up at the sky. Dark blue storm clouds float in the distance.

“Its going to rain soon.” She says. “You have to hurry.” I nod, letting the tension leave my body.

“Are you ready?”

She nods. “Show me.”

From afar, Lahle runs closer to us, locking her palms with mothers. I let go, walking deeper into the water.

“Quill—” Mother hesitates.

“Its for the trick!” I yell back, walking until the water reaches my bellybutton. My whole bottom half is submerged, and I try to fight mother’s uncomfortable look by dancing around the water, splashing droplets everywhere. “See? I’m fine.”

Although the look of discomfort never leaves her eyes, her shoulders relax. She nods for me to start.

I close my eyes.

The door in my soul opens up slowly to the ether. The magic runs through my veins slowly, and soon, it begins to take form according to my wishes. Water current surrounds me, spinning quickly, similar to a small typhoon. I feel it tickle my feet, and above the ocean surface it looks like small sprays of water exploding in a circle around my body.

Mother claps, cheering me on. “iṣẹ ti o dara Quill!”

Lahle, on the other hand, acts unbothered, but I see the look of proudness in her eyes. For now, its a small trick.

I’ll show her.

I raise my hands up, closing the doorway between me and the ether and only using the energy already stored in my body. The water begins to take form, and I feel my legs lifting from the wet ocean ground as a cyclone of water locks me in and carries me into the air. On the sand below I can just barely make out mothers shocked expression. Lahle is jumping behind her, pointing and screaming in disbelief. From here I can see faint outlines of the great walls of the palace. I see the royal guard, faces covered with gold helmets.

I feel on top of the world.

Then it happens.

Behind my body that’s still held in a cocoon of water, I hear the rumbling of thunder and a flash of lightning. Mothers face turns from shocked to afraid. I can just make out her words . “Get down from there!”

My body is too exhausted to allow more energy in, and I feel deep inside me that what I have stored is not enough to break open the water bubble. Staying calm, I give myself a few moments to think.

I decide to slowly lower the water cocoon to the ground and join the ocean again. Sighing, I let the energy flow through my veins again. Slow and steady. Slow and steady.

A flash of lightning explodes in the air, and for a fraction of a second all I see is blinding white light. However, when it stops, I know the lightning has struck the water below.

“Stop!” Lahle screams at me. “Don’t go in the water!”

I clench my fists together, trying not to panic. Around me, the sky is now a dark shade of blue. Red lightning explodes within the clouds. I am trapped in a bubble of my own creation with nowhere to go.

I see mother try to use her tiding abilities to reach my sphere, but I’m too far away and too high up for her. Her chest heaves as she paces around the sand, digging her hands into her scalp.

Above me, a beam of lightning strikes again. Less then a second later, it hits the water of my ocean sphere.

Its almost like I lose all hold of my body. The pain surges out as lighting courses in, stronger than a wave.

“Quillion!” Mother shouts, her voice shaking.

The sky above me thunders. The sea and sky are out for blood.

My water sphere explodes and I barrel down to the water below. From this height, hitting the water feels like my back against cement.

I am taken under by the wild currents, and through my panicked screams, my doorway to the ether opens against my will. My lips close to prevent water gushing in, but as a result I begin to lose air. Energy escapes from the doorway of the ether and bounds through my veins like cheetahs on a hunt. Its deathly painful, and the only way for the hurt to subside is to let it out.

I do just that.

The magic leaves my body without direction, spilling into the ocean. I find myself sinking so far deep that the red storm becomes a sliver of blood red seeping through the divide between water and air.

Somewhere far away, just faintly, I hear mother’s voice. From the way she sounds I know she’s crying.

“Quillion! Quillion! shout if you can hear me! Baby!”

I try to open my lips but salt water gushes in, clogging my throat. Choking, I try to gush it out but more only rushes in. The energy forcing its way through me feels like its ripping my soul apart, and with a loud sound of crashing water the water darkens above me.

The current wraps around my body. Amplified by the magic forcing its way out of me and my inability to stop it, I am flung up the water.

When I break the surface, the sight I see is not what I expect.

The storm has taken up most of the sky, and red flashes of lightning strike the beach and my surrounding vicinity. Magic amplifies nature. My magic is causing the lightning to strike in a controlled circle around me as the waters rock and thrash.

Lahle hides behind a rock on the beach and my mother’s eyes widen as she spots me. She dives in, swimming through the unsettled waves.

The lightning will strike her if she gets too close.

I try to close the doorway, but I cant. It works on emotions, and unless I can calm myself down, I wont be able to. I try to ignore the thunder and the blood red lightning all around me, but it doesn’t work. My body feels like its shutting down. Am I about to die?

“Mom!” I scream. “Don’t swim any closer! Mom!”

She doesn’t seem to hear me. My body still stings from when the lightning hit my bubble and the water I spew into the wild ocean. I try to scream again before she gets too close. If I cant close the doorway within myself, I might as well get her away.

“Leave!” I shout. “Swim away!”

The second she hears my screams she stops, trying to listen, wading through the waves. No matter what, I cant get her to leave. Not with the anarchy around us. She cant hear me. My attempts are futile.

The energy crushes my veins as I plug my nose and let myself be consumed by the water. As my body shuts down, my vision flickers. My body no longer strong enough to support the doorway, it closes, and I let the final bits of magic out through my fingers.

Its too late as I hear a horrified scream from above and the not so distant sound of lightning striking the water.

My vision flickers once more before all goes black.

LAHLE TUGGING ON MY ARM wakes me from my nightmares. Sweat

creates a glossy sheen on my face as I sit up, registering my surroundings. The obsidian layered carriage rides over untarred road somewhere between Oryon and Bole. I’m not sure how far exactly we’ve gotten.

“Maybe dropping the horses at the first guard tower wasn’t such a good idea.” She says, leaning back against the lush cushion behind her. “I mean, we should be on high alert.”

“How long was I asleep?” I groan. Lahle presses a gloved finger to her skin, fidgeting. “I’m not sure. Five, maybe ten minutes. I was too busy looking out the window.”

From her statement I’m sure the redness in her eyes isn’t from sleep. She’s been crying. The wounds, even for me, are still raw and fresh. They bring back horrible memories, like knives digging into sealed scars. I try not to think of him. I try not to think of her, too. Sometimes, however, your mind betrays you worse than anyone else could.

“How far are we Bole?” I ask. Lahle snaps from her trance, turning to look at me. It is then I notice the dark rings under her eyes. “We’re close enough. An hour more, maybe.”

“Do you think they know?”

A beat passes as she hesitates. Outside, beyond the thin glass of the carriage windows, wind howls with a coming storm. The sky darkens above us, clouds thick with unshed rain. Its like the earth grieves for father as well.

“Kahn said he sent a messenger to the elder of the sapphire palace.” She says, “To tell him about our coming. I’m sure the elder has already spread the word to the rest of the elders. I’m sure everyone knows now.”

I sigh, leaning against the chair as she continues talking.

“Do you think aunt Niera was serious about Deyko taking the throne instead of you?”

I’m not sure how to reply. She seemed like was deathly serious, the way her eyes bore into me, but deep down I know Niera is not a bad woman. I’ve known her since before I can remember. We all grieved together when her husband died.

“Maybe its some form of grieving? Taking your emotions out on others.” I say, but the look on Lahle’s face tells me all I need to know.

“You don’t seriously believe that do you?”

“Lahle, you asked for my opinion and I gave it to you.”

She narrows her eyes. I know she feels like pressing the argument more, but for her own sake, she dies down, looking behind us at Lady Niera and Deyko’s carriage. I’m sure she would give anything to hear what the two are saying right now.

“You know, you’re going to have to hold an address.” “Excuse me?” I sit up.

“I mean,” she laughs, “you’re like the king now. You’re going to have to write a whole speech. Address the people about what happened.”

I groan, laying back down. I haven’t even fully processed the situation myself. Now I have to write a whole speech about it?

Lahle puts her hands on my shoulder. “Do you think there’s going to be a war?” So many things I haven’t thought about. Gaia has been peaceful for so long. I have only known clear skies since my birth. Its like a knife twisting in my heart when I realise some children will not be able to stay the same.

“I don’t know, Lahle.” I say, trying to gather my words. “I hope there isn’t, but if Mitaldra doesn’t stand down...”

Silence hangs over the both of us, and Lahle sniffles, rubbing the redness from her eyes. I’m about to say something when the coachman shouts from his seat affront the carriage.

“We’re approaching the Sapphire palace, your highnesses.” He says, and sure enough, when I look out the window, there it is, shining atop the hills of Feyre, Bole’s capital city.

The palace is high upon the hill overlooking the town, it’s many pointed towers giving it the look of an eccentric crown. The walls are a white stone that glistens in the summer sun and the roof is beautifully enthralling gold slate.

Layered in smooth sapphire, the palace gleams when hit with sunlight. On the highest point of the twisted turrets that rested above the shortest tower, a flag embroidered with the symbol of the water tribe, a flowing wave, flies at half mast.

Its as big as twenty of the ordinary houses of the town and employs a good number of the townsfolk as servants. Around the palace are the horse pastures and kitchen gardens for the elder’s family, and around that is a stone wall topped with iron spikes that’s guarded day and night.

Lahle squeezes my palm, trying to stay calm. “We’re here.”

The large sapphire encrusted gates of the palace gleam as they are pulled open by the guardsmen using the pulley system in the guard towers. We’ve never been to the water tribe palace, but we’ve heard of its ethereal beauty before from mother and father. According to them, it was the most beautiful of the tribe elder palaces.

Today, however, that beauty is coated in despair. We aren’t here to enjoy. We’re here because our palace was brought down into the Earth by Mitaldra’s warriors. We’re here because Gaia may be at war, and desperately needs a king to lead it through.

The trio of carriages ride through a large path between a well kempt garden before curving round a spouting water fountain. On each block of stone carved for the fountain is the water tribe symbol. At the grand doorway to the palace, flanked by guards in light blue undershirts, flowing navy capes and silver armour— is the water tribe elder.

The carriage stops in front of the doors, and the coachman gets down and walks over to open the side doors for us. Thankfully, it isn’t too sunny outside. Storm clouds have now fully gathered in the sky. The rain is going to start soon.

Lahle steps down first, her eyes red and puffy. A moment after, I come out as well, trying to look unbothered on the surface as I observe the elder. She’s not overly old, but her body has aged passed her years so much so that she now wears the wizened features of an old crone.

The occasional strand of her once golden hair can still be seen though the lifeless grey mane that limply frames her aging face. Her forehead is now wrinkled by many peaks and trenches - caused by years of consistent scowling - with unflatteringly crowned eyes that almost permanently harbours a disdainful glare, shadowing their beautifully unique shade of blue. Her entire face seems drained of any signs of joy and amusement, instead her frumpy cheeks tells a tale of regular displeasure.

“Your highness,” she courtesies, her regal teal dress pooling on the ground as she does so. It is a true dress of a tribe elder, with the centre taken up by an intricately designed imagining of the tribe symbol. She wears no crown. “I heard what happened.” She sighs, taking a deep breath. “The gods are with us. The king is in a better place now.” Her words show her Aeoli beliefs. Unlike the monarchy, she believes in the gods. As much as I would like to think father is somewhere better now, I cant bring myself to do it. His soul is now one with the ether.

Lahle nods, “Thank you, elder Doregan.”

Doregan tries to smile, but the wrinkles on her face overshadows it. “It is my honour to house the monarchy in the elder castle. I will—”

Her eyes shift to the left, and from my side view I notice Deyko and Lady Niera walking towards us, the latter holding her head high with feigned importance. The two stand beside us, Deyko shoulder to shoulder with Lahle.

Lady Niera bows. “Its been too long, Doregan.” She says, and the two embrace each other in a short hug before parting. Doregan’s smile falters. “I am sorry for your brother.”

“We all are.” Niera says. “Its a truly unfortunate thing. Mitaldra will pay.”

“What happened to the assassin?” Doregan asks. Niera furrows her brows. “We aren’t exactly sure. We want to believe he died with the sinking palace, but we still have to search first.”

Behind us, a small Tyurda Fikawa crawls out from the back cushions of the carriage. It stumbles out, mewing as it scampers towards Lahle. She picks up the little creature, holding it in her hands and petting its head.

“You brought it along?” Deyko’s eyes widen. “I thought you left it at the guard tower at the palace.”

“Like I would.” Lahle says, still unable to even fake a smile.

“Well, now that we’re through with the formalities,” she steps aside, outstretching her arm to the massive double doors behind her. “You are welcome to the sapphire palace.”

The four of us move past Doregan, and a group of guards from the third carriage exit and flank us on all sides as we enter. Its a bit annoying, but the sight of an arrow through my father’s head reminds me that if they were there, he might still be alive.

Once we enter, we are greeted to a large room with two sets of wide marble stairs leading to two separate wings of the palace. Down below, two archways also lead to separate areas, although I’m not sure where. In the centre of the two curving stairs is a long, wide corridor that most likely leads to different staircases and chambers.

The palace is bustling with work. Servants are moving laundry, carrying mops and buckets and cleaning around. Some are dusting along expensive furniture, like the grand portraits of Water tribe elders of the past. Doregan will be an elder until she day she passes, and by then she must have chosen a worthy member of the water tribe to take her place. It is so for all the tribes, and as far I know, she still hasn’t chosen someone, even though she’s well into her grey age.

“My son, Ahelo, will show you to your chambers.” She says, pointing at the man coming down the steps. He looks fairly young, with light brown skin and tousled hair. At oldest he’s probably twenty two. A baby compared to the breathing corpse that’s his mother.

Doregan grabs my hand, speaking into my ear. “I know this must be hard on you especially. Unless there’s another blood contender, you’re taking the throne.”

I suck in my teeth. “Its a lot of responsibility.”

She nods, l*****g her lips. “I know, and unfortunately, it starts now. You have to write and memorize your speech for your address tomorrow. All the elders of the five tribes will be here tomorrow, including some of the most influential people in Gaia. We’re lucky the attacks stopped at the palace and no civilians were hurt, but they are still afraid. Your letter will be publicized. You must calm the unrest.”

“And what about Mitaldra?” I struggle to process all the information. “Do we strike?”

“As a king, peace must be your first option before mindless war. If Mitaldra furthers her attacks, you do what you must to keep your people safe. The army of the waves are yours.”

I smile, though it isn’t genuine. “Thank you, Doregan.”

She doesn’t say anything, sighing and patting me on the back before walking off through the archway to an unknown part of the palace. Her son calls my attention, which I give him, before he leads us up the stairs to our chambers.

DESPITE THE FACT THAT THERE are so many chambers in the sapphire palace, all of them still manage to be cleaned regularly. Ahelo leaves me in my chamber and takes Lahle down to hers, letting my explore the quaint room.

Its fairly small, much smaller than my bedroom in the old palace, with smooth marble walls, a thick velvet curtain surrounding a small window and a king sized bed. There’s also a desk with drawers, mirror, closet and a suite bath chamber. We left the palace in a haste so we had no time to collect clothes, so what I have on me is the only fabric of clothing I own.

I hope I don’t have nightmares of the destruction of the palace. I cant take much more heartbreak, and the knowledge that most of those servants who were screaming and running are now dead under the mountain tops is enough to make me never go to bed again.

I hear a knock on the door and turn around. Deyko stands in the doorway, hands at his back, his face solemn. “I wanted to see you.”

“Come in.” I say, turning around again to pull open the curtains and let light stream into the room. It doesn’t do much. Outside, the rain has already started pouring.

“Quillion, about what my mother said—”

“Its not a problem, Deyko. I assure you.”

“Quill, let me finish.”

“Deyko,” I groan. “I’m sorry, but I have a lot of stuff to do. I’m supposed to write an address to the kingdom, and I have no idea what to say. My hand is shaking just thinking about it.”

Deyko blinks twice. “O-of course. I didn’t even think of that. I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” I nod. “Your mother was out of line, but she was hurt. We all were. She just has a different way of dealing with it.”

The darkness never leaves Deyko’s face, but he straightens his posture, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. Thank you for not being angry.”

“No problem.” I say, sighing. “Now, I have a speech to write.”

He smiles, his eyes still cloudy and distant. “Get on with it then.” I wave him off as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. I turn to the chair, digging my nails into my own palms. This is not going to be easy.

I pull back the oak wood chair of the desk, sitting down on its velvet cushion. Inside the desk drawers are mounds of parchments, feathered quills and ink. A royal address to the public.

I bring out a slip of parchment paper and dip the feathered quill in ink, staring at the blank page before me.

How do I even start?

That’s how it continues for hours on end. Deep into the night, the parchment is still empty. I don’t know if its fear or just not knowing what I’m supposed to say. How am I meant to word it? Will it come off as phony? I take a deep sigh. I am the king now. Everyone will put me on a pedestal, scrutinize my every word, every movement.

I close my eyes. What would father do? What would father write? How would father write it?

The now inked quill touches the parchment and the words come to me. Instead of using big words that will make me come across as fake, I try to be more sincere. More heartfelt. I spill my emotions onto the page, and soon, my tears join them. I rip up the paper and start afresh. Tears blot the ink on this one as well.

It goes on like that until the candle on the table top dies out. Tomorrow, I will be king, yet I am plagued by this feeling of unworthiness. Not worthy to wear the crown my father wears—wore. My father wore. Not worthy of his title.

I lean back in the chair, wondering if I’ll ever see the palace again. All those people. Trapped. Sinking.

My body shudders at the thought.

A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts.

“Come in.”

Doregan opens the door. She looks different than when I last saw her a few hours ago. Instead of an icy blue dress she wears a thick wool coat that trails against the polished marble floors. Her grey-gold hair has been let loose and it falls to her shoulders, and she holds a ceramic mug of steaming hot tea. Her wrinkles are still prominent on her face, but her gaze is muted somehow. Maybe her drink is getting to her.

“Your highness,” she bows. “Are you ready for your address tomorrow?”

I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “Almost. I’ve been struggling with what to write.”

She leaves the door open and walks to meet me, her heels clicking against the marble as she takes a sip of her tea. “You know, the day your father became king, he had the same problem.” She sighs. “Then again, his father died of old age. He didn’t have to address a probable war.”

I sink my head into my hands, groaning. “I don’t want my reign to start with bloodshed.”

Doregan swirls the metal spoon in her tea. “I feel dark things coming, Quillion. I don’t exactly know what that means, but its tugging at my heart. Whatever it is, its not good. If you don’t want your reign to start with bloodshed, don’t let it.” She says. “Reason with Mitaldra at least. What she did to your father is beyond us supporting Vahaltmir—at least while she lives—but the peace of your people is more important than the hatred in your heart.”

“I will try my best.” I say. “But what if she doesn’t want peace? What happens then?”

Doregan sighs, taking another sip of tea. “Then you crush her within your fist.”

MORNING COMES SOONER THAN EXPECTED. Lahle walks into the

chamber, fully dressed in her gold embroidered blue kaftan, a small tiara set atop her gently braided hair. She comes in holding a velvet cushion, and I cringe at what sits on it, gleaming in the light of my candle. She sets it down on the desk, walking up to me.

“Are you alright?” she asks. I’m already fully dressed save for the crown, but I know that’s not what she means. I nod, but she raises an eyebrow, not buying my lie.

“I know you’re nervous.” Lahle says. “I am too, and I’m not the one giving a speech.”

“It just...it feels so fast. Father died yesterday, and today I’ve already taken his place?”

“I get it. But everyone needs you. The people aren’t sure if their monarch is dead or alive, and even then, they don’t know if there’s a war coming. We’re all scared.” She bends down, looking at the floor. “I just...I want everything to go back to the way it was. I’m not ready to live without him. I’m not ready for all this.”

She walks off, sitting on the bed behind us.

A deep breath escapes my lips as I try to calm myself. “Lahle, its my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Quill, don’t.” She sniffles. “Its not your fault we lost father. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Its not.” I say, sitting next to her. My hands intertwine with hers. “But its my fault we’re alone.”

She turns to me, glassy eyes widened. “Quill—”

“Stop.” I shut her down. “You can lie to me all you want, Lahle, but its my fault, ok? I did it. I killed her.”

“Quill, stop it. You were a kid.”

“It should have been me—”

Lahle grabs my face, stopping me mid sentence. “Shut up.” She says, chest heaving. “Its not your fault. Its not mom’s fault either. Its just how it happened.”

“I should have practiced more.”

“Quill, I don’t want you to overthink.” Lahle says. “You’re addressing dozens of people today. You cant have that on your mind. Ok?”

After a few seconds of hesitation, I nod. “Ok.”

“Good.” She says as she stands up to grab father’s crown from the velvet cushion and walks up to me. She notices me watching the crown, and she nods, sniffling.

“If I could destroy it, I would. But you need to be strong today. For everyone. For father.”

She sets the crown on my hair. Looking in the mirror, I notice how odd it seems on me. The gold edges of the crown are sharp and polished down to the gemstones that sit within them. It seems almost entangled in my hair, like its a part of me. However, it wobbles slightly to the side. Even the tarnished metal knows I’m not its true owner.

Lahle adjusts the crown and steps back. For the first time since yesterday, her lips turn up in a small smile. “You look like father.”

I turn around, and despite my sister’s words, I do not see father in me. I see a small timid boy wearing a crown too big for his head.

Lahle snaps me out of my trance. “Aunt Niera took it upon herself to direct the cooking staff. She said she doesn’t want to sit around and think. I understand.” “What about Deyko?” I ask.

“He’s getting ready.” She replies. “Wants to look his best.”

I fake a smile, but inside me I can imagine cracks running along my heart. At this point, it hurts to even breathe. Silently, that’s how I know I must succeed. To make sure nobody else feels like this ever again.

“Is it time?” I ask.

“Doregan says we have an hour or so more before the tribe elders get here. Don’t worry, Doregan has volunteered to explain the situation and take the anthem and all that on your behalf before you come out with your speech. So you have five or ten extra minutes. Give or take.”

“Ok. Ok.” I let out a breath. “I’ll be ready by then.”

“Good.” She says. “I hope you do well.”

“I hope so too.”

“Your highness.”

I turn to the doorway. Doregan stands there, commanding authority as she always does. She wears the same dress she wore yesterday, with an intricate headpiece made of glimmering sapphires atop her head. “I hope I’m not intruding.” “You’re not.” I say. Doregan makes at attempt at smiling, but it comes off as half hearted. The old woman walks closer, opening a small leather skin box in her hand. Inside is a rusted iron piece from. A king.

“It belonged to your father, I’m assuming.” She says, her voice wavering. “The men, they found in on his...body.”

I ignore the sting her words give me, picking the king piece from the small box. The cross on its head has been sharpened to the point where its almost pointed like a blade. The iron catches the light. Inside, my heart wrenches.

“I thought maybe it would keep you calm, to have something of his. Today is a big day.”

I clutch the chess piece in my hand, ignoring the sting of pain from the pointed cross. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

She nods before moving slowly towards the door. Before she closes it, however, she says one final thing.

“I will pray for you.”

DOREGAN FINISHES THE LAST WORDS of her speech and I hear the

crowd applaud lightly from behind the large double doors to the royal hall of the Sapphire palace. Each of the five tribe elder palaces have one, and much like with the royal palace in Oryon, it is usually built in the centre of the palace.

The doors open and Doregan walks out, hands behind her back. She looks flustered as she walks towards me. “The crowd is solemn. They mourn their king.”

“Their king is gone.” I say. The words hurt me to say, but I have to be strong. If not for myself, then for Gaia.

She sighs. “Then you too must be a king worth mourning.”

I nod, the chess piece still in my hand. It stills me much better than anybody’s words could have. Its like a piece of him is still with me.

She adjusts my lopsided crown and looks back into the grand hall. “Your people are waiting.”

I let out a breath, my grip on the piece tightening.

Lets get this over with.

The guards grab the iron handles to the grandiose doors. They groan as they open. I notice that this door leads straight onto the dais instead of cutting through the crowd first, which I prefer.

The crowd falls into a hush as I ascend the dais. The only sound in the whole hall is the echo of my footsteps. There is a podium placed in the middle of the dais directly in front of the throne. Its made of iron and embroidered in gold, as are most of the things in this place. In the crowd I spot Lahle, who gives a thumbs up of encouragement.

Above me is a sapphire chandelier spilling gold light into the room, and beyond are dozens of influential families, the news printers, the tribe elders and their guards. All five elders are here, flanked by guards and family members, each— including Doregan—staring at me intensely.

I clear my throat before I begin.

“Yesterday was a sad day for Gaia. We lost so many innocent lives, including that of our great leader, my father King Kalaghan. He was a good man who only wanted what was best for the kingdom, and the same goes for everyone who was slaughtered at the hands of Queen Nikka Mitaldra of the kingdom of Vahaltmir. What she has done is an act of war, an act of foolery, and I will make it the duty of my monarchy to obtain justice for those slain.” I stop, staring at the faces in the crowd.

Nobody says anything. The hall is so quiet I can hear the sound of rustling outside the windows. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

“However, my first order as the new king of Gaia is to promote peace. We will seek peace with the Mitaldra dynasty—”

“Peace?” A voice booms through the hall. Dreldric Mirgodya, elder of the tamer tribe, stands. He is not as old as Doregan, a fairly new elder, but just like her, his slick black hair and piercing brown eyes commands attention. His amethyst coloured coat drapes onto the ground as he walks closer, staring me down.

“You wish to seek peace with the Mitaldra’s?”

“If you would let me finish, Mirgodya—”

“As you said, King Quillion, Queen Mitaldra committed an act of war. I suggest you give her what she asked for.”

“Oh be quiet, Dreldric.” The tribe of the flames elder, Yaov, stands. Her guardsmen follow her as she walks. “You are not thinking with the people in mind, you’re thinking with your heart.” She smiles at me. Half Doregan’s age, she stands a hair taller than the old woman, and her fiery red garb draws my eyes. “You may continue, King Quillion.”

Dreldric mutters as he sits, adjusting himself to his chair and watching me intently. Despite how much of an a*s he is, Mirgodya controls one of the most powerful tribes, the tamers. Although their powers don’t seem lethal at first, the sheer amount of animals they get to bend to their will is astounding. If I manage to get him on my side, I will value his loyalty greatly.

“I wish to seek peace with the Mitaldra dynasty. However, if they do not meet our demands and continue with their attacks, then we will bring the full force of the army on them and crush them like the flies they are.”

These words don’t even seem like my own, but a murmur ripples through the crowd. Their on my side. They trust me.

Nioho Aiylan and Lucia Syveron are the only two elders who haven’t done anything. Doregan is talking to Dreldric at least, trying to sway him, but those two, elders of the tribes of earth and air, are being strangely quiet.

For the next part of my address, the guardsmen move the podium away and I rest on the throne behind it. This throne is made of polished sapphires and is a tad smaller than the one in Oryon, but it’ll do.

“If any if you have any questions, I would be more than happy to entertain them.”

Strangely, aunt Niera stands, her dark eyes icy and cold as they stare into my soul. She wears traditional Gaian attire, her gold iro and buba glistening against the torchlight. Added is her navy blue shawl, and with her grand, tall braid, all eyes in the hall are on her.

What is going on?

Lahle and I catch each others eyes as Niera walks towards the sapphire throne, eyes fixed on one thing and one thing only.

Me.

She does not climb the dais but instead stands at the bottom steps, turning to face the crowd. Her words spill from her lips like fire.

“Is this the man you will let become king?” she snarls, and the crowd before her quietens to a hush. “He is far too young, inexperienced and unfit to rule!” What? She cant be serious. She cant be.

A murmur passes through the crowd, and Nioho, elder of the earth tribe, stands, breaking his silence. He places his brown skinned hands over his patterned agbada, walking forward. “Niera, what is this about?”

“My son wishes to contend for the throne.” She says proudly, and I cant believe my ears. Deyko?

Yaov, Mirgodya and Doregan stand. The room dissolves into chaos.

“Niera, think about what you are saying—”

“We don’t have time for this—”

“We are in a war!”

Lahle stands and walks towards me, the crowd parting aside for their princess. I don’t stand from the throne, but Lahle walks straight into Niera’s face. “That throne is my brother’s birth right, Aunt.”

“By tradition,” Niera ignores Lahle, her voice booming towards the audience,

“Any person who is tied with blood to the king has equal right to the throne!”

“Niera,” Elder Yaov’s tone is sharp. “What you’re doing will only cause more division. Quillion is more than good to lead us.”

Lahle walks up the steps to meet me. She squats beside the throne, anger lacing her words. “Can you believe her?”

“Deyko must have agreed for her to do this so proudly.” I say. “Deyko is just as guilty as she is.”

As much as it hurts me, I cant fight with tradition. Someone in the crowd will agree with her, and then it must be done. I close my eyes.

Mirgodya carries Niera aside. I still feel his seething eyes on mine. After the two talk in muted tones, Dreldric screams out. Once again, silence rushes through the crowd. The rest of the elders hesitantly take their seats, waiting for his words.

“By our tradition, any person tied with blood to the reigning monarch may contend for his place once he has fallen. If we all truly believe in Quillion, then it wont hurt anybody to test him. He and Deyko must fight. Winner takes the throne.”

Doregan stands, trying to hide the anger on her face. “We don’t have time for this, Dreldric!” she yells. “We don’t know when Mitaldra’s forces will attack again! We are rowing in the dark!”

“Then we need someone worthy to lead us!” Dreldric replies, and his words cut like a blade.

I stand, scanning through the crowd for Deyko, only to find that he’s not here. He’s not here. The coward didn’t even show his face.

“Deyko’s not here.” I whisper to Lahle.

“I didn’t expect this of him.” She groans, balling her fists. “Where did things go wrong?”

I clutch the iron king piece, walking forward. I make sure to project my voice as much as I can.

“I accept Deyko’s offer of contention!” I shout. This has never happened before, or at least not to my knowledge. I haven’t the faintest idea about what’s about to happen. I know Deyko is stronger than me with the sword.

It hits me like a sword to the gut when I realise I may have to use my tiding to beat him.

I haven’t touched my affinity in years. Using them feels like a betrayal. My hand tightens around the piece, and down below the dais I see lady Niera smile. I don’t know if she’s always harboured this hatred towards us. I don’t know if Deyko feels the same way. Right now, I don’t think I know anything.

“Is it settled then? The king has accepted!”

Doregan looks at me, stormy eyes full of pity. She thinks Deyko will beat me. She knows Deyko will beat me.

Lahle places her palm on my shoulder, trying to keep me still. Too much is happening at once. So much I need to process.

“We wont have time for the regular preparations, then.” Lucia Syveron finally speaks, standing. “The event will take place in the tournament fields behind the Sapphire palace. Tomorrow.” Tomorrow?

All the elders are in agreement, but I still catch Doregan’s drooped eyes. The ground feels like its shaking below me.

“This assembly is over.” I shout. “We shall reconvene in the tournament fields tomorrow. There the battle will take place.”

I know people still have questions, and things need to be addressed, but I’ll do that when I’m actually king and not just a contender. Despite tradition, I know my father envisioned me on that throne and not Deyko. I wont let him down. Even though Daegon’s do not believe in afterlife, I refuse to let his spirit turn wherever it is.

I turn, Lahle by my side. The two of us exit the hall through the grand halls on the dais, a group off guards protecting us.

Now I don’t even have the mask of a king to hide behind anymore. I am just a little boy again, like I was when the lightning struck my mother. With every move the sword in my heart twists, and slowly, I feel a c***k run across my heart.