My adored queen

8

The slender figure of Duchess Palmira, my beloved aunt, appeared ahead, looking so carefree and perfect even in her mourning dress that I couldn't help but be charmed by her lively, cheerful character, her sense of style, and her ability to see the pros and cons in every, even hopeless, situation. For the late king's younger sister, the world was always black and white: she weighed everything in life, found advantages, saw disadvantages, then drew a conclusion and turned the page with a clear conscience, not carrying the burden of today into tomorrow. I had no doubt she would be the first to come to terms with her brother's loss. Her mourning dress was now nothing more than a tribute to tradition, and a smile shone on her face.

As my godmother, she didn't bother with bows but immediately grabbed my hand and pulled me closer, whispering animatedly in my ear:

"I was coming to see you. Clarissa is spreading rumors that you'll refuse the crown. Tell me, is it true?"

My eyebrows rose. So, the queen dowager had already started acting? She wasn't wasting any time.

"I haven't made a decision yet, and they're already gossiping behind my back?"

"Did you expect anything else from that schemer? Annie, I hope your mother explained the situation, but I'll do it again: you must accept my brother's generous gift. Don't you dare refuse. Otherwise, you'll betray him and throw yourself and our entire family into the fire," she said, as always, directly and sincerely. That's why I loved my aunt. She never resorted to hypocrisy and never looked for detours. "It won't be easy, that's true. But we'll help you, your parents, Henry and I... They'll always gossip behind your back. If you abdicate, they'll call you a coward. If you take power, they'll discuss your orders and decisions. It's unavoidable. But, as an ancient philosopher said, 'Power is the ability to never regret anything.' Try, or you'll never know what you're capable of. Well, I've said what I wanted, now go where you were going, my little crown princess. Is Nicole in your chambers? I'll go get her," and without waiting for my answer, she let go of my hand and confidently walked down the corridor, her heels echoing off the high walls. I turned after her, smiling broadly. Thank you, Aunt, for being there. Звичайно, ось переклад вашого тексту англійською мовою з адаптацією для носіїв мови, з дотриманням усіх правил граматики та пунктуації:

"It seems yesterday's funeral has made me reconsider my attitude towards my family, to appreciate them even more..."

I continued my journey, replaying the words of my relatives in my head over and over again. I snapped out of my reverie and found myself standing directly in front of the oak doors of the royal chambers. But why was I here when I had set out for the garden? Perhaps my soul had directed me to change course, as if something here could answer me and help me decide. I froze, indecisive. How many times had these doors opened before me? But each time, the majestic apartments belonged to someone dear to me, and I hurried here to meet them. How to enter now was unclear...

"Fools, why are you standing there? You have the heir to the throne before you, and you're making her wait! Open the doors!" Cardinal Mastermal's strong voice rang out, with the slight hoarseness that had become inseparable from him. His black cassock, like a robe, was topped with a snow-white lace rochet reaching his knees, and again, a night-black mozzetta with a large pectoral cross on his chest. On his head was a black cap, a biretta. The image of the head of the spiritual world was unmistakable.

"They're not to blame, Your Eminence," feeling caught red-handed, I decided to save the lackeys from punishment. I hadn't even noticed them myself. "I don't know if I want to go in..."

"Of course, first and foremost, you are a niece who has lost her uncle, but, dear Annie, your mourning must end as soon as possible. Lantonia awaits you, we are anxious..." he gently placed his hand on my shoulder, looking at me sympathetically, then signaled the lackeys to open the doors and gently nudged me inside.

The painfully familiar apartments filled me with a certain melancholy. In my memory, these walls had always belonged to my uncle, who ascended the throne in the same year I was born. It was hard to believe they could now become mine. This spacious study, equipped with all conveniences, was actually quite ordinary. Opposite the doors, against the far wall, was a huge desk (larger than my bed) with a smooth surface of polished, glass-like red oak, and numerous drawers, most with small locks and a large bunch of keys. It would take a year just to remember which key fit which lock.

There were large, floor-to-ceiling windows, now open, so the soft yellow curtains swayed anxiously in the draft, and the heavy orange or even tangerine drapes, like columns, held up the ceiling (at least visually). In front of the desk were two chairs: one for the cardinal, the other for the head of security. Uncle made all his decisions with these two men, as they were his most loyal servants and best friends. When Count Arron died, his place was taken by young Daniel, and by "place," I mean even in the king's heart.

There were wide doors leading to the terrace. Mastermal and my late uncle used to sit there every evening, sharing their dreams. Most of the innovations and bills were born in such moments of carefree and soulful harmony.

There was a majestic fireplace, darkened by the long summer, long unused. And nearby, two soft sofas facing each other, separated by an oval table.

In the corner was a large cabinet, behind whose doors was a large collection of my uncle's wines, liqueurs, and other spirits... Or rather, only a small part of the collection was in the study.

Against that wall was a library and archive, and behind them, an entrance to a secret room where everything truly important was kept. There was also a secret passage that no living soul knew about, except for me and the cardinal, as my uncle emphasized. And only now did I understand: why was this information told to me and not to the crown prince? The king had long planned to pass the power to someone other than his son. He had just forgotten to share the news.

"Everything is as he left it. I have a feeling the door will creak and he'll walk in," I shared my impression quietly, holding back tears.

"Milady, he will never walk in here again," Mastermal stated firmly, though his voice also threatened to break. He (the man, not the voice) had given in to emotions for the first time in his life and embraced me gently, paternally. He had no right, and I shouldn't have been sniffling on his mozzetta, but we were together in this grief. Releasing me quickly and just as unexpectedly, he turned away from me, walking further into the study. As if he didn't want me to see him in a moment of sentimentality. And to move Cardinal Rock, as he was jokingly called for his strength and might, was not easy. Such people were not sentimental in principle.

"The servants haven't started preparing everything for you yet, as you haven't made a statement about accepting the throne. And you should hurry. The kingdom should not wait..."

"But I'm not sure I want to accept the crown," I decided to be honest. After all, the affairs of the kingdom were best known to the cardinal, so he should know about my doubts. In fact, he was making all the decisions at this time.

"So, it's true what the queen dowager's loyal sycophants are chattering about?" the man said thoughtfully, not turning to me immediately. He hid his true emotions so well that I couldn't tell if he was pleased or disappointed. Not people, but stone blocks. And the worst part was that I, too, had grown accustomed to being like that from childhood. But only not with my family.

"I don't know what they're chattering about, but you understand that the late king's decree is madness. To entrust the kingdom to a girl who hasn't even been responsible for a dog. That's what everyone will be talking about. I won't manage, I'll let down my uncle and my family... I'm afraid of becoming a victim of power, as happens to everyone who takes the throne..."

The cardinal smiled wryly, nodding approvingly in agreement with me. He ran his hand over the smooth desk and nodded towards the large portrait of King Leonard hanging behind his chair.

"But he didn't become a victim... Strange as it may sound, His Majesty didn't change in character, and power wasn't a burden to him. He always said that of all the relatives, only you resembled him. Maybe he knew something else? Maybe he saw in you what you haven't yet seen in yourself? I asked if he was sure, if he understood he was throwing you into the fire. And he replied that he didn't doubt for a moment that you would be able to continue his path..." the cardinal pondered, then smiled slightly and walked along the wall to a secret drawer hidden behind the books. And as he took something out of there, jingling the keys, he continued his thoughts, "Leonard will be remembered for risky things. He always did something that made the advisors and me widen our eyes. We said, 'Sir, this is a mistake. It won't work,' but it always worked for him. He was far-sighted. He had a great gift for seeing the future. He saw a bright future for Lantonia in you."

"I don't know what to say... Duchess Palmira claimed that by refusing, I would betray my uncle," I complained about my fears, sitting on the armrest of the soft sofa.

"Milady, the king is dead. You betray the living, not the dead. He did everything in his power and left. He wasn't a seer and could have made a mistake. It's your life, and only you should decide whether to accept your uncle's last gift. But if you accept it, it should come from the heart, not from fear of upsetting someone. Otherwise, power will devour you. If you are sure you want to become queen and know firmly why, then you will devour everyone who whispers behind your back and wants to take away what truly belongs to you."

The cardinal's wisdom was so great that I couldn't help but smile at him gratefully.

"And this is a letter, milady. Your uncle wrote it a week before his death and asked me to give it to you. Perhaps there is an answer to your main question: 'why you.' I'll leave you, and you can read it.