I stare at the tarps placed over every piece of furniture purchased by the past queens. Someday, my desk, my chair, the small table, and the settee Elmir slept on will be neatly stacked in here and covered like forgotten tombstones. Moonlight streams through the high windows of the ballroom. Where the light lands is washed bone white. Where it doesn’t is shrouded in an eerie gray.
When I think that how these queens came here before me and then they also had their own thoughts and dreams and their own way of making things work. They were also humans who had been cut off from their families and they still found the strength to recharge the magic of this land through their own which flowed in their veins. How can I be equal to them? How can I be worthy of this name that had been given to me
