KINGSLAYER

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"Stop in the name of the crown!" the stoutest one commanded me, the tip of his spear two centimeters from my chest.

But I was the crown. So I raised my head. The shadows of my hood left my face, revealing who I was to them. I was a bit older and taller, but my striking looks remained the same.

When they saw my face, the spears were immediately retracted. The soldiers' heads bowed. Though their eyes were averted down, I could see the thinly-veiled fear painted across their expressions. The four quickly stepped aside so I could walk through without opposition. The gates were opened and I marched through without fear.

The front of the extensive castle before me was held up with the airy marble pillars and arches—common in Oceana. It consisted of balconies jutting out, a multitude of thick towers that seemed to touch the lightening sky, and large, airy windows. It did not appear as much of a fortress, but I knew that if the time ever came, it was armed for an attack with hundreds of crossbows and cannons.

The wind blew across the bridge, making my cloak billow out behind me. I glanced over the side of the wide white bridge into the chasm below. Lining the walls of the ravine were windows and walkways, for the castle went underground. I remembered being told stories about how a tremor stuck the city so strongly that it had ripped this very earth apart. It was as if the earth God, great Ariin Himself, had annihilated the ground before the front of the castle as a display of His might.

The sun was appearing over the horizon, washing all of Oceana in its warmth and golden light. It was blindingly bright, but I kept my eyes trained on the palace I was walking to. On either side, mounted to the pillared railing, were marble statues of the great kings and Gods. Their blank, ghostly eyes seemed to stare as I passed.

A small crowd of the servants had gathered by the massive silver front doors, trying to catch a glimpse of the figure walking down the bridge so early in the morning. One of them must have seen me approaching and told the others what they found. The wind carried fragmented whispers of their quiet conversation—their Lost Princess suddenly returned from the dead.

They parted to each side of the door for me to come through. There were audible gasps as they caught sight of my face and realized who I was. Knees fell to the floor. Shocked eyes were cast down and heads bowed in respect.

Or fear.

I gave an infinitesimal nod to acknowledge them, but no one was looking at me to see it. Moving past them, I stood as the impossibly heavy iron doors of my old home were pushed open.

The inside was easily as lavish and upscale as the outside—maybe even more so. This was the home of my ancestors, the home of warriors and kings whose conquests had gained enough riches to last a dozen lifetimes. The heels of my boots clacked onto the marble floors in the large front room. Intricate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling twenty meters above me caught the light and glistened, accentuating the decorated ceiling painted with scenes of the Gods. More statues of white marble and gold lined the front room.

After passing several familiar plush sitting rooms and ballrooms, I found the room I sought. One throne fit for royalty was placed in the north side of the throne room. The delicate-looking seat was silver, decorated with glittering white jewels. It had remained vacant since the bloody events of last year.

Slowly stepping onto the dais it was on, I sat down onto it and rested my arms regally on the armrests, feet planted firmly on the floor. The massive room spread out before me, perfect for when a monarch wanted her people to bow before her during a celebration, or any other day of the year normal citizens would be allowed inside the gates. I looked down at myself for a split second. This was the first time I sat before the room alone—the last of the Imperatrix line. And it felt like everything I had dreamed of.