chapter two

The morning comes with me not being able to fall asleep. It’s natural, something I expected. I should’ve never said anything to father yesterday. It was something childish and pressured. I knew before I said the words, he’d never even think about it. The council has their reasons, and so does father, even if I hate to acknowledge it. It’s hard to admit, but I’d been petty enough to think with just a request the walls built around women, stripping us from our rights, would fall. We have to try harder. And spill some blood, a part of me seems to say.

Day dawned on me, lights falling on the rug from the window. I waited and waited.

When the maids came, I pushed them away, telling them I wasn’t feeling well, and I’d be staying in bed. They knew better than to argue. For a reason I didn’t comprehend I felt somehow sobered up. Sorrow blossomed in my chest for the first time in my life. Thousands of lives were being wasted while I was sleeping in the comfort of my bed with dozens of guards to keep me safe and maids to make me look pretty.

You’ll be a better queen than that, I thought to myself. But no, I don’t want the crown. I am not ready.

Thinking about this with my eyes closed must’ve made me sleepy—so many thoughts, things I couldn’t change yet weighed me down. I am woken what seems a couple of minutes later, mom’s urgent eyes looking down at me.

“It’s a little bit late, isn’t it?” she says, placing a cold, long hand to my forehead. I feel the urge to flinch at the cold touch, but my muscles are too sore to move. “Are you sick?”

“No,” I croak, swatting her hand away. I’m not sick physically. Mentally, I could throw up at the unfairness of it all.

I don’t know why, but a part of me is annoyed at her. Illogical, but still there. How can she stand back and watch dad’s kingdom destroy the world we had once dreamed of? Could she truly not care at all?

“I just feel tired. I was up very late last night.” The lie comes easy to my lips, rehearsed. I have no idea how she can muster to party and wake up the next morning full of life and beauty. She shines down at me, almost as blinding as the sun I’m sure is waiting for me outside. Any way she manages, I don’t have the ability. Just like the sun, she annoys every cell of my body.

She nods once, a small smile slipping on her red lips. “I thought we could have the morning to ourselves. I don’t feel like being with my ladies now.” The excuse is almost too good to pass.

“Why?” I ask. The mere thought of her choosing me over her ladies and the life court has provided for her for thirteen years is hard to fathom. But enough to make a childish part of me jump in eagerness.

She shakes her head, brown hair swapping the air around me, a sweet scent filling my nostrils. Her tone isn’t reproachful. Peace surrounds her wherever she goes. I guess that’s part of the reason why father needs her so much. “Lennon told me about your dance last night. That’s something neither of us expected.”

I didn’t, either. Neither of us expected it. Because I usually stand back in line, follow orders but not make choices. I need to start changing that.

I close my eyes. Of course, the only time she’d even care to spend with me is to wash my brain again, lead me in the path she wants me to follow, to keep me in check. I try and stop the disappointment from sinking on my heart. “I’m not up for a political rant, mom,” I whine, trying to pull the covers to my face before her hands stop my motion, locking on my wrists.

“It’s more than that, Alex.” The way she says it, commanding but calm, freezes my hands.

I lower the sheets so I can look at her face. She still looms over me, her hands next to mine, a satisfied grin spreading when she notices me lowering my restraints. I will my hands not to shake. She looks worried, I think. Her eyes beg me to understand. Finally, her hands drop, but my earlier dismissal is gone. I can’t ignore this any longer.

I swallow, heaving a sigh. What else is there to know? “Meet me in the gardens? I’ll see you in five.”

She nods, flashing a grin to me before jumping back from the bed. Her dress pools around her ankles, golden and luxurious. She’s wielding the power she obtained by marrying dad just in a dress. Half her hair is pulled back in a bun, the rest marking her face, her wrists filled with bracelets made of stones too precious for me to know the names of and shining gold. Life couldn’t be better for her—but it couldn’t be worse for others.

Groggily, I stand up, slipping on a random pair of leggings and a loose white shirt. No one will see me today and getting dressed for such a small appointment has no meaning. Brushing my hair through with my fingers to try and undo some of the tangles, I open the door.

Startled, I bump into someone’s back. At first, my brain thinks it’s Lucas, ready to make a remark about my outfit of the day, but I am taken aback by a guard. Buff and tall, bulky enough as a testament to his endless days drilling, he turns around to catch my hand before I lose my footing. “My lady,” he slurs, releasing my hand a few seconds later.

I stutter a reply. “Why are you here?” In other circumstances asking this would be rude, but now my curiosity topples and overshadows every other feeling or behavior I can show.

The guard steps aside to let me through, dark eyes narrowed to slits. “New orders from His Royal Highness, my lady.” His voice, gruff, sounds eerie in the empty hallway.

I nod once, bowing my head and turning the corner hurriedly to another hallway before I allow myself to think of what it means. Dad couldn’t be afraid, could he? Why would he waste personnel when he has his chambers and the walls and doors to look after? Unless there’s not a guard in every room—just mine. And dad’s. Unless they dropped the guards at the walls and doors, using them for a more fulfilling purpose—keeping the king and his heiress alive.

Like a heartbeat, I recognize the answer before it truly registers in my brain. The riots, the threats, they are more than that. And dad’s finally beginning to see. The threats can’t be ignored.

My room isn’t the only one being heavily guarded. The hallways once empty, forgotten two days ago, are now bristling with guards filling up every corner as roaches would. They bow their heads at the sight of me, some sweeping in a low bow. I don’t deserve any of it. Neither does father. We should be doing a better job of keeping everyone—not just wealthy people—happy. Alive.

Slowly, I allow my frustration to seep through my pores. Better release it here than have an outburst in front of mother. She wouldn’t appreciate it. I push those thoughts away, shoving them into a secret vault I promise to come back to later.

I am not unused to walking the castle with a worn attire. I used to do it as a little kid when Lucas and I were too careless about our public figure. We used to play hide and seek in these hallways when dad would ignore us to take care of his shiny crown, when mom was too busy playing queen at his side. Now, however, I feel self-conscious, and every person or guard I stumble paths with on my way to the garden seems to look at me a minute too long before dropping their gazes. Their faces mirror the ones of my maids. They are concerned, scared, dubious.

The gardens are the only place in the castle where silence always sets, no matter the time of the day. In the daylight, its colors and tones seem pleasing, an escape route from the mingling and noise the court makes. Brown trees, gray skies. Shadows, even in the daylight. In the night, it’s like a reminder. No matter how hard you try to hide, the very same shadows are the ones giving you away.

“Mom?” I call after her, watching her jump a little at the unexpected voice.

With her back to me and hands behind her, high chin and straight spine, she looks every bit the person she was taught to be. The queen who keeps a posture of hope even when the darkness will give in. The fact she jumped at my voice talks about an unease in her like I’ve never seen before.

A heartbeat later she spins, a fake smile plastered to her lips. It doesn’t reach her eyes. She releases her hands, overlapping them in front of her. A living, breathing, queenly perfection. Her aspect is just as neat as her manners.

“Alexandra, care for a walk?”

I nod briskly, trying to hide my concern at the mention of my full name. I reach her side in three long steps, and together we continue down the narrow path in between bushes and trees so tall they can cover the sun above us almost entirely in spring. For now, the dull rays of the sun overshadowed by early fog provide enough coverage.

“I can see the security here has become a priority,” I mutter as we pass two guards. They wouldn’t have been here a week ago but remain there now, taunt and serene, following the orders of their king.

“We can never be safe enough,” she says. “We’re a country at war.”

Her admission makes me falter, baffled. I almost miss a step. It’s the first time she’s acknowledged the idea of something bigger than a rebellion. Yes, the news and articles call it the bride war, but dad has put every effort in diminishing the name, belittling it to meager temper tantrums. Until now, Lucas and I have been the only ones to acknowledge the pond as an entire ocean.

“You—a war?” I decide to play dumb, letting her do the talking. She’s the one with the most information here, and I’d be foolish to not take advantage of her.

She shrugs, her chin setting up even higher in a sign of defiance. “Every kingdom has had one, we’re no different. Which is why you understand your little... tantrum on Lennon yesterday was unnecessary.” I can’t believe she still places all hope and idea on dad. She’s blinded by the image he represents, so much so she refuses to acknowledge what is going on, the decrees dad has set upon us all.

Or maybe she agrees with them. I decide not to ask. I’d rather not know.

I swallow, choosing my words carefully. I’m speaking with a queen whose king was annoyed. “It wasn’t a tantrum. I just don’t understand why, having you and me, he wouldn’t at least lower the decrees. Mom, they’re arranging marriages for ten-year-olds. They’re kids, and the crown is using them for money?”

She nods once, but I already know everything I say will fall on deaf ears. “Something like that, something bigger than us, can’t just change because of a tantrum, Alex.”

Condescending, confident, calm. The tone you’d use to explain a child the earth is round. I’m back to a little girl in her eyes when she knows with every passing day, I’m closer to becoming the legitimate queen she couldn’t be without father.

“So, you stand with the ideals, then?” I challenge as we come to a halt in front of a little terrarium. I close my eyes, bracing myself for the blow.

She heaves a sigh, annoyed for my little understanding. I understand what she means, I just don’t want to. “A decree of such need is harder than you think. Not only would we need an authorization of the council, but the other countries on our league would have to relent, too. If they don’t and we’re the first to change these rules, we’ll have two wars down on us. A civil war would weaken us enough. It’s not easy, Alexa. You still have much more to learn.”

I barely suppress a scoff. “So teach me,” I say. “I will be the queen and if I don’t know what to do—what’s expected of me—I will fail to keep this country on track. Is that what you want?” For a change of luck, my voice doesn’t falter, carrying out flat and strong.

She spares a glance at me, smiling. Her eyes betray her smooth nature. How little you understand, they say. “What’s expected of you is to follow the council and your advisors. Do it and look pretty and the crown is—and stays—on your head.”

I shake my head, refusing to allow her to weave her way into my thoughts again. She never answered the question. “Do you stand with the ideals, mother?”

She bends over, eyeing a bush starting to show bloom. Buying time. I can see her eyes looking for an answer, one to placate me but not reveal too much. “Yes, yes I do,” is all she offers.

For a moment, I’m at loss for words. “Why?” I know I shouldn’t sound the way I do. Hurt, wounded. Disappointed. With her back to me, I’m glad she can’t see my mask slipping.

“Women can’t be on their own. They need someone strong enough to lean on, and that someone also happens to bring food and protection to the household. We need men, Alexandra.” Her back straightens again, ready to chastise me.

I close my eyes for a second, letting the words soak in and thinking about what I’ll say before I open my mouth. “Your family could’ve been one of those being... sold,” I point out. You could’ve been sold to a man you didn’t know.

Me bringing up her humble upraising makes her blink a few times. I’ve hit on the bull’s eye. Mother’s family is erased from my life. I know she was a commoner before she met dad. She never mentions her family and I’ve never met them. My trip down memory lane doesn’t hurt her, it plainly annoys her. “My family could’ve been, yes. Which is why my view matters even more. I know what I’m talking about, despite what you might think.”

“But—”

She holds up her thin, manicured hand, interrupting me. I know better than to keep talking. “I haven’t finished. I know the decree might seem cruel to you, Alex, but you’re not seeing the whole picture like Lennon and I do. You’re just seeing your reasons. Keeping that decree will keep your dad and you alive. And one day, when you have a child of your own, you’ll understand why we can’t let you change a world you barely know.”

“You got a threat in your chambers, didn’t you?” She can just nod, not dignifying me of an answer. “Doesn’t it mean the riots are becoming stronger? Mom, you were lucky to marry by your own will. Many women don’t have the chance, I don’t have the chance, but still, you stand by them?”

She was lucky enough to marry a prince by choice. But even I know different. Yes, she loved father and father loved her, but the crown didn’t hesitate to impose the marriage. It would’ve happened even if neither of them wanted them to. Rodrick and the council made the choice. They fell in love out of luck, taking away years of sorrow and pain.

Her eyes dwindle, the light in them goes off. “It’s a whole different world, Alex. Dangerous, even. The threats have become stronger than before, yes. Which is why this is a war. And in wars, royals stick together to go through it all.” I ignore the small warning in her words. Stop the tantrum and side with us. No matter how much I wish I could just ignore this all, a part of me feels affected, guilty even, about our rule. The responsibility we have and choose to ignore.

I reach for careful words to etch the conversation into something beneficial for me. Feed the hunger of information. “Why is there a war at all? Why the new security if dad seems unfazed?” I stop, making sure my posture is straight, commanding, as I continue. “Don’t speak to me like a child, mother. Speak to me like the queen I’ll be. The princess I am.” I have a right to know, I want to say. Still, I bite my tongue. I can’t play temperament battles with mother.

Her eyes flicker from my face to my body, falling to a bird perched on a branch of a bare tree nearby. “You want the truth, Alexandra? Sometimes the truth weighs heavier than lies.” She doesn’t offer anything more, her tone steady. For once, I can’t read her features as she becomes every bit of the queen she is. Her face becomes still, drawn. Pressure seems to weigh on her chest. She heaves a breath.

I swallow. “Yes.”

“I married on my will to Lennon. That much is true. But the weight the crown has on us, the things we’ve had to endure, they can barely be called free will at all. I’ve had to change from the naïve girl marrying a prince because she was in love to a queen the people look up to. The decree isn’t right, but it helps. No matter what Lennon does, he cannot drop the decree. Or overrule the council, for the matter.” Her voice carries along with the wind messing my hair. She stops, letting me process her words before she continues. A jab at last night’s conversation does little to relent me.

Still, my voice comes out strained, small. I know something she’s hiding. Like hearing something so far away you’re not sure if you heard anything at all. I gulp. “What happens if he does?”

She carefully ignores my question, taking the single rose from a bush and smelling it before saying, “On the view of Rodrick dying for the decree and the power it gives every noble, they decided to add a little clause to the document you sign upon your coronation.” She hesitates, the ghost of her touch on the red petals. “He can’t drop the decree or overrule the council without losing his position. The moment he did, he’d be forced to abdicate.” If the thorns prickle her fingers, her face doesn’t betray any pain. I wish it did.

This is a game I don’t know how to play. “Why did he sign it, then? Didn’t he read it?”

She laughs a throaty laugh like I’ve just told her a joke. “He did read it. But he had to be the next in line, nonetheless. And if he didn’t, we’d be persecuted. Lucas was three. You were five. He was cornered.”

My vision clouds and the ground beneath me suddenly feels unsteady. He’s protecting us. “What about the other countries?” I’m glad I didn’t have any breakfast, otherwise, it’d be all over the floor by the way my stomach heaves.

“You must know by now, Alex. We aren’t strong enough without them. We need their support to keep the monarchy living,” she says. My throat feels thick with a scream I’m trying to push down. “What would the council do if we dropped them? Did Rodrick ever come close to dropping them?” If he did, the council wouldn’t take the chance of appearing weak and risking the fragile system of alliance. I’m scared of knowing the answer.

I’m almost sure she knows this because she shakes her head slightly, eyes staring down, sadness pouring from her like a river. Not now, she seems to say. “Keeping the crown has a cost on us all, Alexa. It’ll have a cost on you, too. But you must endure it. For your life, and for a thousand more.” And right then I see a flick of doubt, humanity, and shame, on a woman I thought was incapable of feeling those things.

Would the council go as far as killing the king because he was about to drop the decree?

What else is there I don’t know? Sudden panic and fear override my senses, lurching at me with merciless claws. People thirsty for power would do anything, I realize. “So, is the council against us?”

She doesn’t need to speak for me to understand. A fleeting glance is all it takes. “No one likes us,” she says, dodging my questioning. “The council is wary of us. Of you becoming a queen. The war’s making peasants and common folk turn against us. As long as the decree is up though, no one can take us down with the support of the other kingdoms...”

Her words trail, dying with the wind. Just as if the decree was dropped, if the countries ceased to support us, we would fall like domino.

Her hands carefully turn the flower, afraid of bending the petals. The small flicks of her wrist, ghosts of touch, are meant to lessen the blow she just gave me.

This is something I never expected. The game I thought I knew so well turns out more complicated than a labyrinth, and every single turn leads to a dead end. Hours and hours of council and business meetings. Greeting people with fake smiles I’d rather not know. I know nothing. It was all for nothing.

We’ve stopped in the middle of the garden, benches, and dying trees around us like shadows to protect our conversation from the wandering eyes of the court. She takes the rose in both hands, avoiding the thorns, before she takes a step toward me, placing it on my ear. An ornament to my messy hair. I don’t need that comfort, I think. But right now, it’s the only thing keeping me from running away.

For the first time ever, I’m starting to see a side to this, to mother, I hadn’t seen before.

Just like the flower, she’s unraveling to let me see a truth hidden from me for so long.

“It’s like a beauty pageant, mom. The beautiful women are sold for gold, the people are dying in a show of strength and weakness, and we keep parading around as if nothing is happening. Why are we doing this?”

There’s no hesitation from her part. “Because we must stay alive,” she mumbles softly, placing a hand on my arm. I don’t move it away. “This is the cost of survival.”

“This is... this isn’t right,” I choke out, shaking my head.

Her eyes lock on mine, the hand rising from my arm to my face, cradling my cheek. I refuse to let the tears fall. I bite my lip, a source of pain to distract me from what I feel. “I know, sweet. But this life, the life of power isn’t easy. It never is. You need to be ready for it when you step to the throne.” I close my eyes, heaving a sigh. My hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed. “What? You don’t want the throne, Alex?”

I shrug, opening my eyes and pushing her away softly. I can’t be weak when I have things to do, things to see. “It’s not a matter of choice,” I remind her, my tone harsh. She doesn’t reply. For once, my thoughts are an echo of hers.

She nods briskly, her posture going back to the queen she was born to be. “You do what you must. For the realm, for you. For them.”

And I will.

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hi!!! chapter two! i wrote this about three years ago but im still developing this story. i cannot believe i am on the fourth book. wow. anyway, if you like it, let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged.

thank you so so so much for reading :)

-goldenmel