Forsaken Blood [Weekly Updates]

Eighteen (I)

This wasn't happening. Maybe if she closed her eyes tight enough it would all be a bad dream.

But the screams from the courtiers jarred her back to reality. In a trance Charlotte moved to her father's side and slid down to her knees as if her feet could no longer support her.

She felt numb as she lifted the king's head onto her lap, the crown skidding off into the throngs of running courtiers. Her eyes stayed glued to the familiar lined face as the lifeless eyes of her father stared at the ceiling above them.

Fat tears raced down her cheeks and dripped onto her father's cold face. Charlotte started humming an old tune, moving to the melody as chaos ensued around her. She heard screams of the courtiers and the hiss of blades being drawn. She heard crunch of bone and the thud of falling bodies.

But the sounds didn't register. All that mattered was her voice and the lullaby her father always sang to her. She would return the favour.

Her voice cracked and the first sobs broke out. Before she knew it, her body shook as the pain caught up with her. She clutched the lifeless corpse to herself, willing for the departed soul to return. Charlotte felt her power awaken within her, but she knew that it could do little in this situation.

She trampled down the growing strings of energy that coiled within her. Her father was dead.

The words repeated themselves in her mind. She tried to block them out by humming louder. But it made no difference.

She barely registered a hand on her shoulder and she violently shook it off. She needed these moments with her father. The world could be crumbling around her and she wouldn't notice or care.

Through glassy eyes she saw the goblet that lay close to her father's hand, the red wine leading a trail towards them. She scooped it up with trembling fingers and at once knew that this was the cause of the King's death.

Basilisk venom. She didn't need to test it to know that it had been mixed into the wine. The aura of death surrounded the remaining drops of liquid still left in the cup.

For a moment she contemplated drinking them and joining her parents and brother. After all, what difference would it make? Who would care?

Her eyes alighted on her father's face. He seemed so serene that she could almost fool herself into believing that he was asleep.

He wouldn't want her to be a coward. She was a princess of Frahadry and she needed to pull herself together. Charlotte swiped the tears away and willed herself to calm down. She drew on some of her powers and they helped to settle her nerves.

Taking a deep breath she focused on the people around her.

That's when she realised that a battle had been raging in the ballroom. Men in guards uniform were lying on the ground clearly dead, their red blood creating rivulets on the previously gleaming floor.