The Exiled

{ 6 }

June 20th, 881

King Cyrus was officially pronounced dead three mornings after the festival.

Reina hadn't left her chambers since the announcement broke through Konstania. The orphaned princess didn't need a mirror to realize her appearance had been declining from the sleepless nights she wept into the silk of her cushions. She refused to bring herself back to the events of that night, too frightened she'd find a clue that would later seem too obvious to avoid - proving her lack of inquisitive sense the fault of her father's demise.

Endless days poured into weeks since the news, and requests for a public and traditional funeral were declined out of fear of where the perpetrator could be lurking. The details of His Highness' death were vaguely disclosed to the princess, other than the intolerable fact that all that was found was his head. The remaining details would've sent her into shock. That, she couldn't have been more sure of.

June 20th marked many things. Four months of being eight and ten. Four months of being the sole monarch. Four months of being alone.

A soft knock echoed through her room, signaling it was 8 o' clock. 

"Enter." she called courtly.

A row of women entered with their heads low. Daphne rested the morning's breakfast of Rye bread, cheese, and strawberries above the princess' lap. The others shuffled around the room with maintenance equipment, refusing to utter a word.

"I'm not hungry." Reina protested, shoving the food away from her chest.

"But, your majesty," spoke a second chambermaid in a voice softer than her usual tone, "You haven't eaten in days."

Don't be witless. She mustn't bloat, or the dress will fly right off!

Reina clenched her fists. "I have not been hungry, Meredith. How many times must we rehearse this before you understand you don't control when I eat."

Meredith said nothing, turning to Daphne for assistance. "Your majesty," the young girl began once more. "Enough of this, please. You must try to eat or else -"

"Or else what?" Reina countered, shoving the tray even farther. Strawberries toppled off the platter from the force. "Who will you report me to?" She waited for further remarks before continuing her rebuttal. "You answer to me and me alone, and I order you to drop the conversation this instant!"

Daphne sucked in a breath, looking down at her sovereign as if Reina was a stray without direction.

"In fact, you've already ruined whatever appetite I had left. Go. All of you!"

On cue, the row of women snatched up the tray and supplies before scurrying out the room. Daphne strayed behind, stopping short before the door. "His Highness of Valamor wanted to inform you he'll be making an appearance at noon."

Reina swallowed hard, "You ought to know my answer to such a request."

"He did not call for an invitation, but to alert you he's on his way."

Something solid tugged in Reina's throat, a mutual resentment mingled in the air as Daphne shut the door.

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A black linen day-gown draped Reina's figure with transparent sleeves that acted as liquid down her forelimbs and touched the skirt of the dress. Her fingers twirled into her curls, coiling them to her content. The golden bell that summoned her courtiers tempted her, not for their duties but for a hand to hold. Alas, she knew the request would go against her constant demands for their absence.