My Beloved Queen

CHAPTER SEVEN

vii. the princess and her king

tyrant
// in his eyes, she saw her undoing; in his hands, he held her love. she would sit so he could stand; she would suffer so he could thrive.

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The panic humming in the back of your throat was no illusion. You could feel it just as completely as if it were a weapon—the blade of a sword pressed firmly against your neck, threatening pain and punishment if you moved wrongly.

If you moved at all.

"Thank you." You nodded to the servant, and you tried to keep your tone even and firm, but something made your voice catch—made the words waver as they fell from your lips. Mehreus, rising from his watery prison to force truth down your throat—to tug the mask out of your hands. "You may carry on with your duties. I will attend to my father and King Orelus shortly."

The servant bowed to you—so obedient, so dutiful—and then they turned away, scurrying off as quickly and quietly as they had arrived. You watched them disappear—slip past the bodies of other shrine caretakers; pause in their exit to bow respectfully to the augurs—and then your thoughts turned inward. Like a betrayal; like a sinister trick, waiting for your defenses to lower.

Waiting for Mehreus to rise.

You felt him—Mehreus—in your mind. In your heart. Glorifying the truth and shaming your lies. He ripped the mask from your hands and held it far, far out of your reach, and then he brought all of that which you'd tried to drown up to the surface—up until they were all your terrified eyes could see.

And he read them to you—each and every one, whispered in that deep, silvery voice; the hiss of the serpent trapped beneath the water.

"You don't want to go to the garden."

But you couldn't stay here—next to the shrine. Even if you wanted to you couldn't.

Your mother would find you.

"It was wonderful to spend this time in your company, Caretaker Aleer." Your lips refused to form into the shape of a smile—to attempt a lie while under Mehreus's influence—but the evenness that your voice had lacked while in conversation with the servant had returned, weak but tangible. "I hope you are blessed with joy for the rest of your day."

Caretaker Aleer raised her head and for a brief moment, her eyes met yours. "Your blessing is appreciated more than you could ever know, Your Highness, and I wish you the same—joy...and strength." Her eyes fled to the statue of Mitemis, and a dark look flashed across her gaze. When she spoke again, her voice was low—soft, like the hiss of Mehreus in your ears. "If the king finds peace, I pray there is truth in it."

A sour taste filled your mouth, and you tried to swallow it, but there was a weight in your stomach—a terrible, festering heaviness that twisted your intestines into tight, choking knots. A lie could never breed peace. "I will make sure to visit the shrine again—soon."

Before you left, you bowed to the statue of Mitemis, and then you paused—just for a moment—to regard her. She was naked; she was vulnerable. She was all alone in an empty, barren world.

Had she found it frightening, being so alone? Had she been scared of the future, so unknowable and uncertain as it was?

No—she couldn't've been. She was a goddess.

Gods have nothing to fear.

If only mortals were so courageous.

You turned and made your way to the doors, and when you reached them the shrine caretakers standing nearby opened the doors for you. The sweet smell of incense faded away, replaced by the scent of growing things—living things.