Abbernathy and the Cat Kingdom

The Promise of Dawn- Queen's POV- EXTRA

A recanting of The Promise of Dawn, told from the Queen's first person POV. Like all chapters marked, 'Extra,' skipping this will not impact the main story, it will, however, make all the characters very, very sad. You've been warned.

Fire. That's what the moonlight reminded me of as it cascaded through the glass, catching on the orange and red of the mosaic representation of Meinn Karre - goddess of war. An all-consuming fire whose flames couldn't be extinguished. A fire like that of the one that burned in the hearth of my father's quarters the night he died.

He had been draped in Hoenndal- a reddish plant said to be the gods' weed, oils of Wier root and Faarvis stem coating his white fur. Their scent had clung to the air, suffocating in strength, failing to mask the rotting scent of death.

He had been struck with A'remdal, a disease that ravaged the body, leaving those inflicted by it, praying for death. In the year of Olen'dinn, the disease had claimed over a third of our kingdom, the King, himself, among it's victims. I was thirteen then, and as I ran a hand over my father's trembling fingers, an inquisitive spirit overtook me and I asked him what dying was like.

"Hevalla," he replied mustering what little strength he had left to curl the corners of his mouth upward.

"In our moments of death, we think only of our life."

******

"We mustn't linger any longer," a voice pleaded to my left.

Made of moon dust and silver, a creature I adored stood next to me, a worried look pulling his features rigid. My favorite guardsman never wore worry well. I couldn't help but smile at him.

He'd been my only friend behind castle walls, my greatest protection in times of civil unrest, and when my husband turned cold and sought the comfort of others' arms, Lain had been the man I loved in secret.

"I know," I said, watching as he tapped his fingers against his thigh. He was more than worried, he was antsy and he was wondering why I wasn't more of the same.

It was simple really; the first lesson I'd learnt after I took my kingdom's name, was that death hid in the shadows of a castle. Regardless of what I did or was to do, there would always be those that opposed me, that hated the blood that coursed through my veins. I was a queen, not a god, and queens bled just as easily as everyone else.

As I looked around the ruined chapel, my eyes fell to those who'd followed me; loyal attendants, Soroccah, Lain. Fear loomed over them, their hearts in unrest; I wondered if they regretted leaving the castle behind. Death was certain at my side but behind the castle's walls, they could plead with the usurper, pledge their fealty, and hope to be spared. The sanctuary we cowered in now offered no hope.

The tiny movements in my arms brought my attention downward. Swaddled in unremarkable brown cotton were my sons. Born in this time of chaos, cursed to live-if they lived at all- without a mother, without a home. If only they didn't carry my blood inside them. If only they didn't carry the mark of the royal family. If only.

"My Queen," a trembling voice called out. My littlest attendant, Nieh, stood before me, brown hands clawing at the green folds of her gown.

"Yes, dear?" I asked, her hands grasping at the fabric tighter, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. "Might we," she began before breaking out into hysterics. I beckoned for her to follow me toward a lesser lit part of the room. The other attendants joined us.