chapter four

I can’t say I’ve ever heard the siren before. Its wail is low and sinister, something from the movies. It echoes through the chamber, silencing everyone around us. Settling deep in my skull, I clench my teeth, willing the sound away. I might not know what it means, but dad and Lucas clearly do.

“It’s alright, people. Remain quiet. Gareth,” father growls, signaling to a guard at the door, eyes going wide with dad’s sudden attention. “Make sure the doors are locked good.”

Lucas stands up hastily, followed by Odin and Lennon. I tug at Lucas’ sleeve, his green eyes fierce and alive. “What the hell is going on?” I hiss. It’s a loud enough hiss to sound over the alarm.

His eyes scan the room, lips tight. “The castle is under attack.”

As if on cue, the door opened for Logan and his family now bangs against the wall for a second time, at least a dozen guards rushing in. Odin walks across the room to the head of the table, his father in tow. “There’s been at least two dozen men infiltrated through the gates. While we find out where they are, we need to keep you safe, Your Majesty. Our recommendation is the royal family to be locked in the ballroom downstairs.” The guard at the front, bald and deadly-looking, sounds winded already, as if they’ve been running. He looks heavy, buried under swords and knives like a chest sinking at the bottom of the sea.

My brother shakes his head, a hand reaching his lips. “We can’t go out,” Lucas begins.

“Not a smart move,” Odin agrees. “The safest choice would be to keep all of them in this room, while we arm it heavily, inside and outside. Someone needs to inspect the damage and lead men through every room until we can say the threat is gone.” His arms cross over his chest, speaking of this procedure as if he’s done it a thousand times. He probably has. Green eyes flicker from dad to the guard, daring any of them to challenge him.

They don’t.

“Fair enough,” says Lennon, eyeing Odin’s father. “Do the preparations. I take it we’re the ones leaving?”

“We can’t leave, dad,” mutters Lucas. He’s the only one father will listen to. He has perfected the skill of calming a beast. “You can’t leave. Let Odin and his father handle it.”

Lucas knows this attempt is to get to the crown, to dad, to me. Lennon grumbles something low enough so I can’t listen, the guards spreading in a practiced motion across the room, leaving no corner unguarded. The door is the one with the most, half a dozen, weapons drawn. Lethal daggers and long rifles. Gilded swords and flashing guns.

Father, for all his might, is logical, to be reasoned with. He sighs, his chest shuddering. He doesn’t like not having control. “Find these rebels and bring them to the council room once they have surrendered. It’s up to the king’s mercy then,” he instructs.

I wince. King’s mercy. I know he won’t have one, not when they are so close to inflicting real damage to his kingdom, the realm. Everything he’s fought so hard for. I see it in his eyes, in his stance. He’ll kill them.

The room feels heavy as I stand up on shaky legs, heaving a sigh of my own. The air is suffocating once again, charged with fear and wonder this time. People talk in hushed tones. Some are scared, some laugh. What can they do to us? We’re in the king’s palace. They still think they’re wolves dealing with ants. I don’t think the odds remain that way anymore.

I nod at mom once, her eyes flickering between dad’s strategy being planned in one side of the room while I run away from it. I don’t want to hear it. Them talking about the soldiers as if they’re just pawns in a chessboard. Like their lives don’t matter. Like the rebels are to blame. If the council had listened to them, they wouldn’t require such violent measures. The fault is on them. On us.

I stumble with my heels out of my chair, running but not fast enough not to hear,

“They’ll take the fall on this. They’ll pay for this little tantrum.”

The council has decided to stay out of this for once. They’re nothing compared to Odin’s strategies, his rich voice rumbling through the room, no matter how much distance I put between us. He’s a born soldier, a general, but I wish he wouldn’t fight for us. He knows better.

By the time I cross through the whole chamber and get to a corner I feel out of breath, like a fish out of water. Could I handle something of this magnitude in the future?

“You okay?” The familiar voice makes me jump, my heart following shortly after. I raise my head, gray eyes focused on me despite the noises of the room at his back.

“I’m alright, Logan,” I say, even if he can hear I’m out of breath. He shouldn’t be this close to me. We’ve fought to keep what we have a secret, away from the eyes of everyone watching me. Him being this close just risks all of it. We can touch and kiss when there are no eyes to witness those caresses. But now, the room is too busy choosing sides. We might as well be alone. The selfish, careless part of me doesn’t mind. I need him there to keep my head above the surface.

He chuckles lightly, leaning against the wall too. So close our arms brush. I close my eyes, feeling his familiar warmth I cherish so much before I’m forced to pull away. Appearances to the last. “Did you know the attacks were this bad?” he asks.

“They barely care to tell me about the weather,” I groan, rolling my eyes. I feel the familiar ache beginning to take shape on my temples. “I found out this morning. It’s why they brought this general to us,” I lie, gesturing with my chin toward a menacing- looking Odin. Straight shoulders and straighter back, tense jaw and deathly gaze. I knew some of this before, but I have no desire to admit that knowledge. Now, the game has changed.

Logan’s eyes flicker from me to him, clicking his tongue after. “He’s a foreigner, isn’t he?” It isn’t hard to see. The way his voice is loud enough to carry across the chamber leaves his thick eastern accent bare.

I dodge his implication. “Are you jealous?” I whisper, nudging him with my shoulder.

“I would be,” he says, leaning his head down so whatever he’s about to say is blocked from the council and the guards. His lips ghost over my ear. “But he doesn’t hear his name leave your lips every night.”

Breathe in, breathe out. I force my voice out in a squeal. “I hate you, Logan.”

He smirks, covering a chuckle with a cough. Rolling his eyes his smirk leaves, a furrowed eyebrow quickly taking its place. “The threats are becoming more usual, aren’t they?” His tone is cautious, tentative. He knows I don’t like this topic.

I nod. “Lucas and dad got one almost a week ago. Now... this. I’m not scared, don’t get me wrong... I just...” I trail off, my eyes falling to the floor. I just don’t want this to continue. I want the decree dropped.

I hope my glance can tell him everything I’m too coward to admit. He nods once in return, crossing his arms. Later, he seems to say, when we’re alone.

My thoughts and agony are distracted by father’s clap echoing across the chamber. “If I may have your attention, everyone.” His voice booms, ricocheting from one wall to the other. Everyone, sitting or standing like Logan’s submissive family in the corner, stares, plates, and appetite long forgotten and lost. “We know the rebels are here, trying to take our crown away with nothing but empty threats and fruitless attempts. This is just a signal of how irrational and merciless they are. Ungratefulness comes in all shapes and forms. We’ve given them a stable monarchy, a stronggovernment. A well-balanced economy. And they return the favor by turning against us.”

The room nods along, eyes trailing from the king to me and back to him. I’m not dumb. I know the council is taunting my reaction. Without calling attention to myself I move a few feet forward, away from Logan. Straightening my shoulders and keeping my face stoic is something close to second nature to me.

“The decrees have helped many, keeping a crown and power on my head and your shoulders. They won’t be dropped as long as the Coltrane monarchy lives.” A few claps roar over his voice. I place my hands behind my back, knowing even a twitch of a finger can give me away to the cunning eyes of the council.

Behind father stand Lucas and Odin. Faces serene and collected. Odin’s eyes remain on the floor. Part of me wants to think he hates the words coming out of my dad’s mouth. The degrading, hurtful, uncalled attributes he’s given people that only plead to be heard. The other part of me, the rational one, can see the gears on his mind turning and twisting. He isn’t thinking about the moral of the war; he’s planning for the war. He’s planning to win the war. Even if it is the whole reason he’s here, even if it keeps us alive and in place, it still makes me hate the small part of me that had seen an ally in him earlier.

How foolish of me.

“We will stand against this war, inside this castle. And no one will be harmed. New measures will be laid on everyone, see if they dare to continue overstepping the line. We have enough useless fight in the fields already. They’ve brought it to our home, and they will pay for it with blood. With tears.” Echoes along the lines of long live the king, or the merciful king blast against the walls, deafening.

New measures. New measures as if the ones we already have aren’t enough. As if they can get any worse. I should say something, how I don’t agree with this. I have to bite my tongue to stop the words from leaving my mouth. This isn’t a race. I have to bide my time, wait for the right moment.

One glance at mom tells me I should keep quiet. But the small shake of her head she gives me when no one is looking is enough for me. He’s doing this because it’s what the council will want. He doesn’t have a choice.

Doesn’t he?

When the room goes back to normal, with Odin trailing silently behind the first bald guard to inspect the damage and put his skills to use, Lucas trots back to the council, all smiles, and charms. Appeasing them is left to him. Father’s grim face quickly vanishes when he sits beside mom, talking in hurried tones. Logan walks back to me carefully. Slowly.

“You okay?” It’s barely a whisper, but I hear it all the same. I can only nod.

“We’re staying here for a while, it seems,” I say, my gaze still forward, watching father.

“Will you keep me company, sir?” He knows the title is just for formalities in case the guards or the council are eavesdropping. If it were up to me, we’d be alone now. I wish that we were, more than anything. He’d hug me, tell me it was going to be okay, assure me father would see reason with this. Remind me this wasn’t my fault. But in the eyes of all these people, he’s nothing but a protectorate of the crown, a friend of my childhood I refuse to let go of.

His mother is a maid, while his father is a guard in the castle. A low ranking one, but still. He’s here because I need him here. And because his family is needed here. Sometimes I’d dare to say this castle needs his warmth more than it needs me. But it doesn’t mean the nobles see him as I do. If they knew their future queen is hanging out with a low-ranking family they’d be displeased, they’d doubt. And there’s no time to doubt in times like these.

He nods once as we retreat to the same wall. This time I take a seat on the floor, him smiling and following suit. I don’t care about manners anymore. Not when we’re in lock-down. Let the dress wrinkle and stain for all I care.

Logan has a brother, Samuel, a shorter version of himself. His brother will follow Logan’s path: become an accountant. The only position which requires him to stay this close to father, to me. His family stands on the wall across from us, silent, uncomfortable. Samuel burns holes into the carpet with his frayed gaze. His mother looks glum, small next to him, and Logan’s father watches it all, assessing threats. They’re here because I will them to be. They’re to be taken care of as if they were noble, I told the guards once. They knew better than to defy a queen.

“It’s a full-on war now,” I say, whispering to him. “Father acknowledged it as such. Odin’s family is from Lanese. They’re lending us a hand while the things go back to how they were.”

He knows better than to ask me what I think. He’s been in my brain as much as I’ve been in his. We share the same thoughts. Instead, he says, “What were the threats this time?”

I do some burning the carpet on my own, staring down and thanking for the chatter around us to muffle my voice. “A deer on dad’s chambers. A bird on Lucas’. A note read: will you sell her out, too?”

He hisses, his jaw clenched. “They just want to be heard.” I can only nod. His voice becomes velvety when he regards me. He can’t touch me, but his words almost do. “How about you? Any threat on yours?”

I don’t miss the flicker of concern in his voice. “I’m fine. There are things that have happened the last weeks, though. I like to ponder them by the fountain at night.”

He catches my meaning, grinning. “Do you have a court meeting with Lucas tomorrow?”

I nod. “Tomorrow evening.” And just like that, we have a plan of our own. One no one can shatter, where I’ll finally get to be myself, if only for a while. “The riots are becoming stronger in the cities. The war front as Odin explained it... I can’t begin to imagine,” I continue, unable to stop thinking about it all.

He raises an eyebrow. “What about where Greece’s family is?”

“Her father knows better than risking the cities with high tendencies of riots. They’re keeping close to the capital for now,” I tell him. Lord Adara is wise beyond his age, close to father. He must know about this.

“How do you know?”

“I got a letter today before you arrived. The date is from two days ago. She can’t be far. The riots haven’t spread further than the east.”

He takes a moment to talk. When he does, with such sorrow and shame alive on his face, I wish he hadn’t. “You spoke with Odin earlier?”

I gulp. “Dad made me show him around,” I whisper, itching close enough so our knees touch. “Just that.”

He nods but his wild eyes waver, unconvinced. I can see the thoughts on his mind without the need for him to say them aloud. What if this is the marriage they’ve prepared for her? A foreign general? Something better than an accountant.

It pains me to see him feel and think this way. While I keep pushing those very thoughts away, he keeps pulling them close, getting used to the idea of reality: we can never be together.

At least one of us admits it.

*****

Playing the piano is a relief. Something I stumble upon in my times of high anxiety, as dad does with alcohol. There’s something about my fingers pressing the tiles and them responding accordingly that makes me feel like I have control over something, even when in the world, the court, I don’t.

The melody sweeps over the empty music room, my breathing following the synchrony of the song. I close my eyes, allowing my fingers to move as they please. It’s therapeutic almost, like the music can drown out the thoughts I don’t want to hear, the ones I’m running away from.

“That’s beautiful.”

I don’t jump. I’m used to people, maids especially, interrupting my moments of peace and solitude to get me ready for another dance or useless court meeting. But the voice belongs to no maid.

“I don’t know if you know,” I begin, closing the song and letting my fingers drag across the keys, “but it’s rude to interrupt someone in the middle of a musical piece, General Abernarthy.”

He moves from the shadows of the other side of the room closer to me, the morning sun bursting through the window behind him, setting out his tall silhouette. “Thought we

could drop out the formal names already. It seems like I’m staying longer than I’d like.”

I stand up, nodding at him. “A month?”

“Two.” He wears the same uniform I saw him in yesterday, but there are no wrinkles on it. The badges are gone, replaced by only a lone golden star. The symbol of Alemiss. “Then I’ll leave for the battlefield. I’m thinking it’ll take a month to push the rebels away from the Weaponry state.”

Weaponry state. If they’ve become strong enough to take hold of entire cities now, cities as special and focal as the Weaponry, who knows what they’ll be able to do in two years? Their message and might are spreading like wildfire, and no one bothers to admit it.

“To what do I owe your presence, Odin?” I ask instead. I’ll ponder that information later.

He blinks at me, probably startled by the loss of the official titles so soon. “His Royal Highness requests your presence in the throne room.”

I huff, squaring my shoulders, slamming the cover over the keys with a thud. “There’s no court today.”

I can see his lips pulling up, a smirk leaving his front teeth bare. “A council meeting, Alexandra.”

I shake my head, pushing myself away from the piano. The sun almost blinds me, but not enough to keep me from asking, “A council meeting? With father? You must’ve heard wrong. I’m never invited to those things. Only Lucas is.” I can hear the jealousy in my own voice.

He nods once, eyes assessing my reaction. “Someone may have put a word in for you, then.”

I take his hint in stride. “What could you possibly say that would make father agree with you?” I scoff, passing him to leave the room. “He wanted me to be there. I asked if you’d be. He said no. I told him if you weren’t there, I wouldn’t show up, all to pay respects for the future queen of our allies.” He sounds so proud of it, like a child telling you how high he can jump.

He trails behind me, judging by his heavy steps. I don’t steal a glance over my shoulder to prove my theory. “And why on earth would you do that?”

He takes a split second to answer, gathering his thoughts. “A future queen must know everything about her kingdom, right?”

I can only nod. Why would he put up such word for me? Why would dad even agree?

And as much as I hated him for strategizing with father, this only makes my easiness around him spread further. He’s done more for me already than dad ever has.

The way to the throne room is spent in silence, the only sound the clanking of my heels against the marble floor. I’m thankful for choosing to dress up in the morning. I wear a silk gown, navy blue, down to my ankles. It’s simple but regal, my eyes matching.

I’d make small talk with him if I wasn’t so worried. We went to our chambers after midnight, when the threat was extinguished. It took at least three dozen guards to subdue the twenty rebels, and even then, one-third of them escaped. Lennon was shaken but decided to keep the council meeting until the morning, to allow his head and mind to come to terms with what had happened. I was grateful for the small blessing. It gave him time to cool off. Maybe then he wouldn’t kill the rebels found.

It isn’t the first council meeting I attend, but it isn’t a normal thing either. It’s surreal. Lennon chose to allow me in when they’ll obviously speak for the rebels, decide what to do with them. And just like that, any surprise or happiness I might’ve felt drains my body. If I’ll be in that council, the blood of those rebels will be on my hands, too.

Not if you can stop it.

The entrance to the throne room is buzzing with activity. Guards and maids flood the hall while nobles step aside, allowing the council members inside. “Thank you,” I mumble.

Odin’s pep talk with father means more to me than I’d like to admit.

Even if I thought he wouldn’t hear my frail voice with the buzz of noise already dawning on us, he nods. “Any time, my queen.” He has the gall to match my stride, throwing a wink my way. It such a small gesture but it makes my face turn hot, nonetheless.

The room itself is spacious, lit naturally by the windows placed high on the walls and the skylight above. The sun’s reflection sends rays all through the room, bouncing against the walls and the shimmering suits owned by the council members. The throne room doubles as a council meeting chamber sometimes, when more people need to be inside the particular meeting. This is one of those times, with two dozen guards bursting in and out of the room, extra council people called in.

Mom sits on her throne at the front next to dad. Her dress is vivid, a bright monster of purple silk with black details, matching my father’s tie. Lucas sits on the stairs leading to the thrones’ landing, talking to a weary-eyed Duncan. My eyes scan the room to see someone else familiar, but I find no one. For some reason, with Odin by my side, the room doesn’t make me feel small, as I usually would be if this were any other occasion. As we enter, the heavy black doors behind us are closed, sending a loud noise across the room, silencing the murmurs down the seats in front of father.

I have a habit of making an entrance.

I raise my chin higher, purse my lips and walk through the gaping crowd, eyes following my every move. I’m aware of Odin keeping up with me, his heavy footsteps the only thing I can hear other than my blood rushing to my ears.

I have no place to sit. Not yet anyway. I will one day. The very same throne father is perched upon. For now, I take a stand between both thrones, twirling around to face the council with a stoic face that keeps my emotions at bay. Lucas hoists himself up, and Odin takes a place beside him as the people before us stand and bow, acknowledging us.

“We are here today to address the act of war these people calling themselves rebels have committed not only against the higher houses, against us, but against our God. They claim to be collected, organized, that they only want equality. But if they did, why would they kill innocent guards to get to our home and try to stark us down?” Dad doesn’t even bother standing up. All eyes are focused on him, his throne rising high above them all. Red and gold, a symbol of wealth and power. His manners are careful, planned. If the attack rattled him, I don’t know. The wave of his hand and his careless posture are enough to give the air of disinterest. “Last night the castle was seized by these monsters. Twenty of them decided to infiltrate themselves as guards in hopes of getting to our chambers and committing regicide.”

The crowd before us gasps. I close my eyes for a second. Dad is good with words, and only words can turn the tide to your side sometimes. “The threats we dealt with before are nothing compared to this. By doing this they didn’t only take a stand, a step they won’t be able to take back, but they’ve made themselves a true enemy of the crown. And we will make them pay.” Subtle, unnoticed if you’re not searching for it. But he just declared it a war before the council.

In front of us, the doors are opened once again, any havoc that once was outside is silent now. In practiced formation, guards enter the room, a neat, practiced line. Only they’re not just guards.

One guard, one commoner. A rebel. Another guard, another rebel. They are intertwined, all to keep them in check, controlled. They’re easy to spot. Dirty, shaking, head bowed in shame, manacles on their hands and chains on their ankles. The metals grind against the soft marble. Having them here can only make this council’s purpose clear. Lennon won’t hesitate in killing the rebels not quick enough to escape if it shows how much power he wields.

The line follows, a dagger dividing the room, till the formation breaks, becoming a horizontal line before us. I wince. I didn’t want to see this. How I wish Odin wouldn’t have put a word for me. This is the reason why father agreed to Odin’s request: to make me see, understand, acknowledge I know nothing.

But you have to know, Alex. You have to see. Have to learn what not to do once your time comes.

Or I can stop it.

Standing up from his throne in a quick manner, his black suit setting off against the red leather of the seat, he marches to the front of the room. His footsteps are each a threat, a warning. They sound off in the quiet room. Boom, boom, boom. “We are here to promote justice to this monarchy, and to teach everyone no matter how much they think they’ve won, it can always be taken away. We’ve been good, benevolent and they pay us by betraying their crown, their lives.”

I clasp my hands behind my back, anything to stop them from trembling. The guards look ahead, thinking of who knows what. The prisoners, the brides, look at me, at mom, at dad. Pleading, begging. But I know they won’t have any mercy.

A woman in particular catches my eye. She’s young, younger than mother. Blonde hair spills down her shoulders, messy and tangled from the night she spent on her cell. She isn’t crying, her gaze never falters. I feel a shiver take hold of me with icy fingers. Holding her gaze is something I shouldn’t be doing. Once she’s dead, her green eyes and dirty face will be all I remember, chasing me in my dreams. But I can’t bring myself to look away.

I’m sorry, I think, if only to lessen my internal guilt. If I were father you’d be released. You wouldn’t be here. You would’ve been heard.

But it’s no use, she can’t hear my thoughts. I bite my lip instead, so hard I hope to draw blood. Anything to stop bile from rising in my throat.

I’m no fool. I can see pain in the eyes of people. The woman’s green eyes reflect sorrow, loss. She’s seen so much. People dying, suffering, starving. And all because of us. I should’ve known long ago they weren’t just riots. This is a full-on war.

A war they have no hopes of winning.

“Let each of the bullets here be an echo of the things that will happen, shall you not fall back.”

And just then, a shot rings across the room. I’d zoomed out, watching the woman eyeing me, which is why I flinch. I’d rather not look but being in the middle I don’t have much choice. Gruesome curiosity gets the best of me. The first man in line, a heavy-looking fifty-year-old, tumbles to the floor sandwiched between two guards, a shot to his temple. Blood splatters the marble floor, droplets of it reaching close to father’s feet.

The room gasps. Some shake their heads, looking away, as I witness it all. I witness father become the monster many people outside these walls see.

Another shot rings through, piercing my eardrums. I blink, pushing back tears.

They’re dying because of us. Because we refuse to listen.

And I’m not able to stop any of it.

Three more corpses join the floor. Mom stares down at her hands, father looks on, and Lucas is gone. I’m glad he fled. He gets to hold onto his innocence a bit longer. Odin is left beside my father’s empty throne. I meet his gaze, tears prickling my eyes. I can see it in his stance. He regrets bringing me here. But I’m thankful. I needed to witness this to fully understand what I’m fighting against.

Before I know, the woman with the green eyes is next. She doesn’t close hers like the others did, as if the crown doesn’t deserve her dignified fear. Surprisingly, her eyes don’t bleed hatred or fear like the others’ did. Hers burn with determination and peace. She must feel some of it, the hatred that forced her to take matters into her own hands, but none of it bleeds through her mask. Instead she sneers, body going cold the second the shot resounds in the air.

Four more rebels die. Because we refused to listen. Because Lennon plays God, balancing their lives in a thin thread.

Next to the last corpse, a man with gracious features and an unkempt beard, a kid no older than twelve watches, wide-eyed and shaking. Silent tears draw paths in the dirt of his face. I can only see as the guard beside him raises his weapon, taking aim.

“No!”

The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it, my brain not processing what I’ve just done. The council’s eyes flicker to me. What have I done?

I push my uncertainty and fear aside. I couldn’t care less. I step closer to the stairs slowly, carefully inching towards father, eyeing the man beside the kid still holding the gun. I tip my head at him, my face smooth as marble. “Drop it.”

He knows better than to oppose me. Lennon lets his straight façade drop, turning to look at me. Wide, green eyes, hands balled into fists. What have you done?

I couldn’t care less about the whiny little council. We have real power. We are the monarchs. If dad is afraid of them, of their selfishness and lack of humanism, I really am not.

“This is a kid,” I state, my voice carrying across the room. Obviously, Alex, such a smart comment. The boy looks at me, silent tears now pouring without shame down his face.

My heart swells and my ears ring. I’ll be damned if I let him die. I tell myself it’s because I see Lucas in him. Young, afraid. But I know it’s something deeper. It’s the unfairness that makes my skin crawl.

“A collateral damage to the uprisings.” Even here, defying the rules, I have to comply with father’s carved lie. “He doesn’t even know where our country is located, let alone the price this could have on him.”

I’m glad about all the etiquette lessons. They make my voice sound sure and steady when I feel my hands trembling as everyone watches on. “He was forced here. He can’t know anything about a disagreement fought for since before he was born.” I walk down the steps, aware of my mother’s glance digging nails at my back. It isn’t father doing this. It’s me. And I have signed no coronation, no decree. They can’t touch me.

“What’s your name?” I ask the boy after I glance at the guard beside him, memorizing his face with disgust. Weary face, sullen cheeks. He’s just carrying his duty, taking another life. I sneer at him with disdain. He is no better than any of us if he was willing to kill a child.

The boy scrambles to reply, voice wavering. “Dylan,” he says at last, holding my gaze with cloudy blue eyes. I extend my hand from the last step. He takes it without a thought. His sweat coats mine, but there’s something we both share. Fear. We’re both alone in this. I clear my throat, forcing myself to focus on our audience. I’m performing a play, something to keep them entertained. “Dylan here will be the proof of a balanced, stable monarchy. We are just, faithful, and merciful. We will stand united against the rebels; show the world they’ve betrayed the hand that fed them. But we will prove

we’re good. Because we are.”

One final blow to shut up all the council. The onlookers will judge my action. If I couldn’t save the ten people behind him, I will save this boy’s life as if he were my own. If I twist this around, turn their lies to them, they will have nothing against me, no choice but to follow through mine. So, I do exactly that.

I pull Dylan’s frail body to mine, resting a hand on his meek shoulder. “The monarchy will live, and those who stand with us will die.” I swallow hard, focusing on my breathing as I chant the words.

“Long live the king.”

________

hi! looking back on this chapter, i think it really reflects the bravery (and stupidity) of Alex. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do :) let me know what you think + if you'd like to be tagged

thank you for reading

- goldenmel