|[ The Soul Reaper - 2 ]| [UNDERGOING EDITING]

Chapter 1 // Return of the Heir

I stared at the woman before me, eyes slightly narrowed. Her gaze did not waver for mine and I felt a spark of nervousness inside me. I felt as if I knew her... but that was ridiculous.

"She's lying!" a man cried from the crowd, pointing at her, "She can't be the king's daughter! He had no children!" Imelda turned, her lips pulled up in a wiry smile.

"Not that he knew of," she laughed, "I'm sure he never even learned of my existence." I sighed and sat back down, resting my hands in my lap. This was the break I had been looking for – someone else to take the responsibility of monarch from me... so why did I feel so reluctant to let her be telling the truth?

"So... you are Soldin's daughter?" I asked, looking her over. It didn't make sense. She looked nothing like him. Why did she have such thick black hair, while he had possessed chestnut brown curls, so much like my own? I remembered what Natona had once told me, how he had used magic to alter his appearance. If his daughter was an elf like him... that would explain the difference in appearance. But was Imelda an elf? It was hard to tell with her black hair flowing around her face. As if she had heard my thoughts she shifted her position slightly, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear – her pointed ear.

At its appearance people muttered amongst themselves. I could understand – elves were all but extinct, and to see one march into a Faeri kingdom would've been a sight indeed.

"Yes, I am his daughter." Imelda said with a triumphant grin, walking forwards, "My adoptive mother told me she found me outside the walls of Thalandor, in the arms of a dying woman. In the arms of my mother."

"Why should we believe you?" Cedric asked coolly, watching her carefully, "You could be anyone. A spy, a traitor... a fool."

"I can prove it!" Imelda crowed. She took something from her pocket and held it up. It glinted as it caught the light. It was a small locket. "My mother had taken a lock of my father's hair and put it in here, so if I ever were to find out the truth about myself, I would be able to prove my royal blood."

"That proves nothing." I snapped, "You could have cut off a piece of your own hair, and are now claiming it to be Soldin's."

"Then compare it!" Imelda snapped, frustration leaking through her smooth façade. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Compare it to what? We have no body. Soldin is dead, rotting into nothing in some dank corner where no one will ever find him. Without him, I am afraid you will still be assumed as a liar."

"You look so fine up there, Cousin." Imelda laughed. I sucked in a sharp breath as she said the last word. Cousin. It was such an intimate word... it made it seem like there was a bond between us. "It is as if you were born to be queen. But of course, you weren't." she laughed, "We both know that, deep down. You were born to a poor family; born to become a criminal. We both know you don't want the throne for yourself." I eyed her suspiciously. How could she possibly have known how I felt inside? Was it really that plain to see on my face?

"And what would make you think that?" I asked, slightly unnerved, "If I have to be Queen, I will be Queen. I understand my duty, and I respect it."

"Your duty? Ha!" Imelda laughed harshly, "It is my duty! My honour! I am the first in line!"

"Until you have solid evidence," the priest piped up angrily, still holding the crown, "You are just a commoner, drivelling on about a completely ridiculous tale. Do you have any evidence, other than that hair? Because if not, I would ask you to leave."

"No, I do not." Imelda said, though she lost none of her determination, "And I will not leave. I wish to speak to the queen, in private."

"You realise we are in the middle of something?!" the priest cried, "You cannot just barge in here and hold up a coronation!"