THIRD BOOK OF THE CHRONICLES OF FANTASILIA SERIES
𝘈 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘈 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘺. 𝘈 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳. 𝘈 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴.
Two sides of the same coin are brought to the light...
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June's footsteps were heavy on the carpeted floor. His room was looming beyond him and for once, he dreaded entering. His hand toyed with the pommel of his dagger. No, not his. It's the High Queen's poison and he's the only one who could touch it, let alone, wield it.
He remembered the day the High Queen told him everything. It was the day he became what he was. He had just gotten home from the Academy that night. He had greeted his mother by the door of the servants' quarters, took off his shoes and coat, and proceeded to his desk to lay out his assignments for the day.
"Ankina," his mother said behind him, calling him like how half-bloods refer to their children. "The High Queen requests your presence."
He remembered turning to her in confusion. The High Queen didn't send for servants, much less their children. Was he going to the dungeons for setting a part of the kitchen on fire?
"What for, nankia?" he had asked, addressing his mother back in the same dialect.
His mother's face had never looked so grim. "I am not in a place to say," she had shaken her head. "Get your coat, and for Ektiel's sake, fix your hair."
His dark hair. He didn't know what he looked like back then, just that his mother used to force him to dye his hair black. It would gain too much attention if he let it stay white, according to her. Ten minutes later, he had stood in a secluded room with the most intimidating woman he'd ever seen. He could recall every detail of her gown, from the gems to the feathers swaying with every movement. Her eyes had drilled into his very being that night.
"June Zeilran," the High Queen started.
Like his mother taught him, he had dipped his head in a bow. "Your Majesty," he had responded. Squeaked, more like.
"How do you like a job?" the High Queen asked.
He had looked up to her for the first time, seeing the sadness and exhaustion in her eyes. "What is it?"
From the folds of her dress, the High Queen produced a dagger made from some gray metal. Its hilt was covered in leather. The light bounced off as a glint against the black gem at its pommel. The High Queen had smiled as she offered it to him. "Would you like to give it a try?"
June had. The moment his hands grasped the hilt, strange warmth flowed through him. He gasped and let go.
The High Queen chuckled. "Try again," she had encouraged. So, he did. When he got used to the heat in his fingertips, the High Queen held out her hand. "Wound me," she said.
June had slid the blade across the High Queen's palm. Blood pooled from the crevice in the High Queen's perfect skin. He remembered dropping the dagger and the fear that came along with it. He had begged the High Queen to absolve him of any punishment. The High Queen laughed and told him that he would have a new job at the Palace. As a child, he's eager to comply. He'd been too eager.
