"THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!" King Damarius exclaimed, slamming a heavy fist against the handle of the throne, startling Stella. The knot of fearful rage finally exploded out of the dam inside him brimming with profound dilemma and utter frustration. "You dare burst through my doors and show yourself unprecedented with that unholy of an ... abomination before me?!"
Allyson, however, remained unfazed. One would think he wore a flawless facade of nonchalance, but the surfacing grin on his glassy lips said otherwise. "Now there's no need to be rash, Your Majesty. I'm sure we can make an agreement that aligns both our interests." He leaned in close to the King, his lips a soft breeze to his aged ear like a demon perching on his shoulder, tempting him. Only except, they were, surely, not whispers that elicited the greatest desires.
The King's face grew mortified. His eyes bulged out its sockets like they were about to pop out. The vein on his head was jutting out of his oil-coated skin. Stella may not be able to discern it, but knowing her father, she was sure his limbs trembled against the cold metal of the throne. His slightly agape mouth opened to what seemed like a protest. But thought better against it. Even Stella felt the silent tension skewering her this far, accumulating a lump in her lungs that made it hard for her to breathe involuntarily.
Only when Allyson drew back to his usual space was she able to realize she was running out of air, pulling a deep, long breath out of her.
"That's something we can arrange for ourselves, isn't it?" Allyson said, the glint in his face had turned sharper. More confident.
King Damarius dumbly gawked at him, wearing an ever-more disturbed expression. A picture Stella had never seen--or thought of seeing--of his formidable father, His Majesty. He looked at Allyson as if he had crazed eyes. As if breathing in his air would tick him off and his head would be at cost.
Without any further words, Father dipped his head, resigning in absolute defeat. "Very well."
At those simple words, Allyson bowed. "A most gracious thank you, Your Majesty. I can't express the depth of my gratitude enough. Your generous words are indeed the utmost melody of a native of Flaurella." He addressed the crew before him, his voice echoing like silk amidst the dire air. "It's a pleasure working with you, gentleman. I find that you'll enjoy your stay here on this side of the planet."
The goblin from the spar ambled back to his companion to help clean up the mess as if the impact of the throw had negligible damage. The abomination, now under the man's skin, obliged to walk back into its cell with no restraints. The latches on the metal cage strapped on. Its cloth was put back on with a few straightening done. It was clear they took the trail down the inclusive road leading up to the palace hill, as there was an absence of uproar from concerned civilians like any other private business to be taken up before the royal court.
Allyson turned his head to the frail man behind him, whose head remained low. "I shall return next week to heed of your verdict. I pray for the Queen and the Princess's growth and health ... And when the time comes, their safety too."
The King lifted his swollen eyes at Allyson, only to meet his retreating back as he and his companions departed for the open palace doors, resuming to stream in the cold of the night.
"Remember, Your Majesty, I'll be waiting."
At that, the towering doors closed, leaving behind an acrid sweep of undeniable agitation and indispensable melancholy. What once was an elegant room for royal decorum and fair formalities was now a heftier, direr expanse brought about by the price of the crown on the head of one who sat on its expensive throne.
Behind the walls up above, his daughter shared a mere fraction of his despair.
*
Hours turned into days. Days into weeks. And weeks into long, harrowing bygones passing by with each tick morphing the clock to become more and more like a time bomb on the countdown.
Everyone awaited the King's words. Attendants rushed into their companion's gossip circle, officials at the royal court who had heard of the encounter constantly pushed His Majesty for answers, and Mother has been augmenting her fret to her already ailing state. The ladies-in-waiting and Stella worried that her heart may go into shock again, urging her to be bedridden for another Moon cycle. Little did she know that her husband's brittle reassurance hid beneath a layer of silent anxiety. It ate at him, tearing its way into his mind, and consistently woke up his weakened wife to shake him off his absurd nightmares. Its whispers of impending doom stripped him of his appetite, and not even the most adorned of the royal chefs cannot appease him to, at least, take a spoonful of his favorite meal.
It was like the Ambassador's words were enough to sustain him, and in turn, fed on the very flesh of his brain like worms ravaging their way into his lobes. Like ice-cold critters that sent chills of shock coursing under the layers of his skin as they wiggled about.
What did Allyson say to him? And for what?
Father has yet to declare his verdict.
The abyss was a calm maelstrom of hues of intermingling black, purple, and dim blue. Its sounds like the silent river coalescing with the muffled, eldritch voices desperately clawing their way out of the stormy waters. Of whose voices exactly? That inaudible disturbance made it off-putting for Stella. Was she supposed to be worried about something?
"Your Highness." A gentle shake from her shoulder knocked her awake. When she stirred open her eyes, a pair of brown ones hovered over her, her brows knotted in sheer fright and concern. "You have to dress up. Now!" The toned voice urged Stella on, who was still prodding her dawdling brain on the verge of waking up. Confusion dawned upon her that she doubted she heard that silly instruction right. "My Princess, please wake up!"
She slowly sprung up from the foam of her bed, her arms pressing bottomlessly against the supple cotton that enveloped her in a sea of silken clouds. The crater she made sprawled out lines of creases. "Lyfa, what are you-"
"There is no time to explain!" The girl grabbed her wrist, gently hauling Stella off her layers of velvety blanket. Lyfa was among her ladies-in-waiting, so she was accustomed to having her skin and hair frequently caressed by foreign hands within her service. Though her act was rather rough and quick, Stella did not bother to pull her wrist away. This was her friend. And she would not wear an apparent alarmed expression unless it immensely involved her Highness.
Exquisite cascades of moonlight flooded through the glass panes of her chamber, the curtains already have been slid apart. The nightly chill touched her bare bronze skin which the fabric of her wool sleepwear did not reach. Stella wiped her eyes, making clear out of the dim green-blue tucked beneath the shadows of the corners. The pot of plants she doted on reveled in the light showered upon them just beneath the edge of the topaz-laced window, briefly regaling in the Moon's glamour.
"Put this on." Lyfa tossed her a pile of clothes she had not seen since the deep burrows of her closet, which her friend was scavenging in as she flicked the lights on, a duffel bag in her hold.
"Lyfa, calm down." Panic welled inside her as she watched her stripping Stella's garments from hangers and rush from one category after the other in her expansive wardrobe. She tidied them into neat folds before stuffing them into the bag. Lyfa drew out a dust bag to deposit her shoes in. "What is happening?!"
The girl's gaze was that of a fragile flower in decay, engendering Stella to approach her and take hold of her lifeless-cold hands. She stared at her, gripping her Princess's warming hands. "It will all be explained soon. For now, please, just put that on."
*
By the time Stella and her lady-in-waiting prowled out of the kitchen's dilapidated backdoor, the moonlight now shone over a few figures murmuring among themselves from what Stella could make certain of under squinted eyes. Beside them, a large object crept through the cloak of the shadows cast by the daunting palace. Its odd geometric shape chillingly reminded Stella of the cage, the goblins, the human-creature, Allyson-
"Stella!" One of the figures approached them. When they came into the solar lamp's light, Stella's nerves calmed as her mother wrapped Stella into a firm hug as if there would not be another day. Her long, unkempt brown hair weaved down her shoulders as Stella reciprocated the act, her skin grazing against its soft texture. She was also in her sleepwear, and from the looks of her disheveled appearance--a peculiar sight for a queen--Stella knew what incited it.
She melted into her mother's cozy embrace, the natural scent of her honeyed vanilla fragrance wafting over her. "Mama, what is-"
"Come! You must hurry. Quick!" She pulled Stella by the same wrist Lyfa held her, and like so, complied under its force. "Anton will be taking your entourage to Vherna where you will be safe. I have my contacts ready to receive you. Lyfa and your other ladies-in-waiting will be coming along. Some of the knights shall escort you discreetly," she directed with almost incomprehensible speed as she pulled her child to the large object, which she could only recognize as a black car already on start when its door flapped open before the Queen hurriedly pushed her inside. Lyfa took the door on the opposite end, sitting next to her.
"Can you please tell me what is going on?"
Her mother looked at her as she stood by the door, the same worn-out eyes reflecting off her father's the day it all started. Her brown eyes were of the brightest hue, carving a sense of depth and authority in one who stared at them for too long. Her heart-shaped face she inherited from her. The way how her skin aligned with the dim light made it appear she wore the azure night herself. It made her forget, for once, that she had no illness that constantly threatened her life to be burdened with. She was stunning as if she aged like fine wine, yet the traces of distress slowly tainted that perfect imagery she wholely carried.
"I've heard of The Ambassador's threat and your Father's proclamation."
Threat? So it was, after all.
"You mean..." Stell stared off into the night. "So Father turned down Allyson's proposition." If anything, it was, no doubt, that Allyson's bid consisted of The King choosing between his words of affirmation for the Ambassador's ominous scheme involving the anomaly he brought, or his only family. A well of relief bubbled in her albeit the fear accompanied by the consequences her father would face for the decision.
The thought consoled her, yet ironically, she felt more of the woe it came with, only to be mercilessly crushed and trampled by her mother's next words.
"No." The Queen's face distorted into a disgusted mien. "Your Father did, I'm afraid ... That is why I'm sending you off."
As if the bloating bout of despair was already enough, perplexity surged through, finally breaking the Princess's calm facade. "W-what do you mean he did?" Her voice choked, stamped by dreading shock. To be sent off without either of her parents and with her Father's impending decision, it all dropped on Stella with unspoken questions demanding to be released and answered all at once.
Why would he agree? Did the threat scare him that far?
What of their people?
In every core of their discussion, Father always brought forth the long, monotonous seminar of the royal's obligation is to their kingdom's people like he was giving a parliamentary speech on the terrace overlooking the courtyard as his subjects looked on to listen before their king. His words were like the sharpest sword piercing through every Flaurellan's obliging heart, perfected by his execution like they were forged from the roaring flames of a blacksmith's furnace. She was to whet her skills to mold it in the same, precise way.
She had longed to seek the fire from where Father--and his and their forefathers--carried out their indomitable presence among the people. It is the duty of every vessel of the bloodline to carry it forth.
For one rock out of place could bring the whole mountain crumbling down.
It was her duty.
"Then... why send me off?"
Her mother's head dipped as she let out a cold sigh, a momentary warmth in the pit of cold. "It was not just any threat. Alejandres offered safety for us as long as your Father agreed to bid him leverage for greater military power to apprehend the leftist rebels. And when I was told what it was, it's-"
"The human-creature..." Stella mumbled, audible enough for the Queen to hear.
"You saw?"
Stella nodded. She knew it was unbecoming of her to snoop in on her parents' private matters unless they told her.
"We'll get to that some other time. As long as Alejandres didn't see you, you are okay. That creature is too vile to be near us... I can't even imagine goblins are real as your Father said so, or any magical creatures at that." Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose, looking more careworn than ever. "For years, your Father and grandfathers have been consistently looking for solutions to resolve the rebel crisis not just in Calyxia. But it's sooner than I expected that I have to tell you this: with the demands for military resources arising and the other administration relying on foreign aid, we're near a point where the continent's debt will terminate requested support from overseas borders. As much as I don't want to say it, but Alejandres's proposal can be a breakthrough."
Stella is aware not only are the views of their people tainted but so are the other regions, inciting many to join the uprising in reforming the whole of Flaurella into a community bounded by structured communism. While it is true that terrorists have been leaving wreck and sorrow in their wake, Stella had never thought about it too harshly.
"When your Father spoke of it, he said there was to be thousand of them. He has gone mad. Worse at this moment. He has become too desperate."
"Mom, breathe." Stella caressed her mother's cold hand, prompting her to brake down her mumbles.
"I can't bear to think of it. People driven to control by these unlawful beings..."
Stella knew exactly what she meant, and where she was coming from. To be stripped of a person's freedom from their will and actions, coerces them to become less than human.
"As Queen, I will not allow it. As your mother, I'm prioritizing your safety."
Stella's heart almost broke for the woman who meant more to her now than ever. She may have taken her protection over her too far, demanded too much of her for a task to ameliorate her studies, but in the end, she proved herself the maternal figure she is and the responsibility she holds on her regal position.
And that awed Stella at most.
"You have to leave now. It won't be long before the distraction of the patrol guards ceases." She slid her hands from her daughter's, cupping her head in a soft cushion Stella leaned into as she kneeled into her. "I love you, my little floret." She planted a delicate kiss on her round forehead, sending a spurt of bittersweet endearment between mother and child. "Promise me you will stay safe out there. And when they do come for you, you will not back down without a fight. Remember what I taught you."
Stella nodded against the tight hold of her hand, a single streak of tear betraying the composure she withheld for her mother, who wiped it against her skin with a swipe of her thumb. "You're not really coming along?"
She pressed her forehead against hers, her vanilla scent overwhelming and her breath warming. Stella engrossed in it to take into memory what could be the last of her mother's remembrance before they would separate for a long, harrowing time. "Oh, how I wish I can. But I must stay to bid you time. Vherna may take until past mid-noon to get there." She placed one last kiss on her nose.
Stella opted for a last, full hug, her mother's hair brushing against the skin of her cheek. "I love you too, Mom. Please, take care."
When they parted, they took in each other's woeful stares, pairs of brown gem eyes holding on to each other for one last glimpse. "Lyfa, protect each other."
The break in Lyfa's voice was evident to discrete she was about to tear up. "Yes, Your Majesty. I assure you I will not allow any harm to come to her before anything gets through me first."
At that, the Queen stood, closing the door of the car and pushing down on it twice.
"Thank you again, Anton. Now go. And don't stop."
She heard her mother say on the open window of the driver's seat, who complied with an obliging, "Yes, Your Majesty. Do stay safe."
Behind the screen, she watched as her mother's figure gradually slid off her vision as she craned her neck to look further behind, and was soon consumed by the landscapes of hulking trees and pitch bushes. The view opened out into the starless night sky, the grime forest and hill slide below accentuated the grim darkness outside, reminding Stella that the solace of light can only be found in the few tints of light and warm air conditioner inside the speeding vehicle.
She rested her head on the complying lap of Lyfa, who caressed her friend's wavy locks, sending waves of soothing touches. The heavy weight of oppressive misery and foreboding slowly pulled her into the luring enfolds of sleep, reminiscing about her mother's purposeful countenance. Stella was certain she saw the glossy, twinkle of a tear trail down on it against the Queen's dignified guise.
🏰
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NEXT on Youngblood World:
Let's face it, no one is exempted from the harsh reality of making complicated choices out of complicated problems.
The King has made his, and so did the Queen.
The journey to Vherna was initiated, but how did Stella come into a messy turnabout?
And what does this await for our characters?
Find out in the next chapter,
Ambushed
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