Song: Eleanor Rigby, Cody Fry
"I found the letters. I found them." My gaze stays locked with her greenish-blue eyes as I snap out of my thoughts. They glimmer in the light.
"What?" I breathe out. The glimmer of the highlighter on her cheekbone catches my attention.
She reaches down onto her desk, not breaking eye contact, grabbing three folded pieces of parchment on a pile of other parchment. She holds them up between two of her slim fingers, her sky-blue nails standing out against the cream-colored parchment.
I feel a knot tied in my chest, my lungs drowning in the stiff atmosphere of the room, and my throat gains the all too well-known feeling of swallowing razors.
I try to inhale the soft summer air around me- but it doesn't feel so soft anymore, it feels like the weight of everyone's stress is on me again. It feels toxic and unwelcoming.
I can't bring myself to respond to her lifting it.
I watch as she roughly opens the first one, tearing a corner without care for it.
"Dear Zaid, the King of Centra." She starts, her gaze drawing back up to me in a slow painful way.
"It has come to my attention that you have no forgoing plan, on your advances against the nation of Saceilia. Going into it blind isn't an ideally smart thing to do, however, I have a proposition. My help in planning your takeover of Saceilia. For your assistance in the topic we have previously discussed. I know I said I wasn't following through, but I have decided under certain circumstances..." She and I take a sharp breath simultaneously, "Although, I am leaving this completely up to you to decide, knowing that, logically, you won't stand a chance against Lura's army. I hope you can conclude this proposition, I expect a response by next month's meeting. Sincerely, Isabella Nott."
Her gaze fixates on me. "Dated July 27th, a week ago.. A draft I assume for a different letter sent out. "
The breeze that was once light and airy feels like it's bringing in a storm. Today is August 2nd, a week ahead of the draft she found.
Where did she get it from? As far as everyone else is concerned it's not like I would team up with him, ever.
She releases it from her hand, and it floats almost gracefully down, her hand sharply reaching down and picking up the next one. Her actions are the opposite of how graceful she looks.
Her icy sharp gaze meets mine in an intense moment before it snaps back towards the next letter. "Dated June 12th, an older one." She says, disappointed, and furiously, there's a short pause that feels like a decade before she continues.
"Dear Zaid," she hisses his name out like it's the toxic venom of a snake. "-I see we are on a first-name-only basis?" She inquires, glancing up at me. My foot moves forward.
"Don't think you can't talk your way out of this." She growls sharply. My gut drops and a wave of guilt hits me... she sounds familiar, the way she says that, laced with frustration and disappointment.
I blink back the tears that built in my blue eyes before she could notice.
Me.
She sounds like me when I'm speaking with her. When I'm on the accusation side. She sounds exactly how I do. I inhale deeply and release it shakily.
"Caustia.. You don't understand– I didn't write these.. I don't-"
"I certainly do not want to hear an unacceptable excuse." She comments suddenly, cutting me off. "You have ruined our lives, and kingdom with this."
My throat closes up, the dams behind my eyes threatening to burst. I recognize that line.
I've said it to her over and over... it makes her seem like me.
She's not supposed to be like this.
She's not supposed to be like me.
____________________________________
It's a brutally long hour.
I don't know if it was an hour. Or minutes. Or seconds. But it felt like an eternity, having to listen to her recite these three letters that she supposedly found in my office.
Forced by her to listen to her read every single one, now we've been standing in silence, staring at each other.
I can't bring myself to say anything to her, even if I could, I don't know what I would say. I have no words left to say.
"I have gone public with it, obviously." She breaks the silence shamelessly. "Though I am sure you have put the pieces together for that one, on why your people suddenly hate you."
She stacks all of the letters so they are sitting in unison. "You are not welcome here anymore, and so I'm exiling you. As it-"
My voice echoes through the room. "You can't do that!!" I exclaim, my chest tightening in betrayal.
"Section 68, line 13 in the book of Taboo states; Any persons of power can be exiled from their throne and/or land by the next heir if the following has been done; One, person of power has started more than 5 unnecessary wars, Two, person of power has make obvious moves against again their nation and people- in a negative or harmful way, and three, if the whole of the nation and the next in line agree it is for the nations benefit." She states looking me dead into my soul. "Of which, two and three have been done, because believe it or not I saw the whole moment with the woman in the town square."
She slowly draws around her desk in front of me.
"But–" I start.
"Isabella Allison Nott, I hereby exile you from the Nation of Trisye until the council acts against the claim, or until proven innocent. You have tonight to gather any clothing or necessities you need. If you're caught in the nation, it will result in an immediate execution." Her face is serious, unflinching, and emotionless.
YOU ARE READING
Twisted Moon's Rising
FantasyPart One - Isabellas POV Isabella, the ruler of Trisye, strives to make her nation proud. To make her mother proud, her sister. Her father. She's an intensely emotional and anxious person but does her best to keep it hidden from others. She was hati...
