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!"
"I can and I will," Imelda snapped, "And I will continue to do so until it is stopped and we talk." I glanced at Cedric, who continued to stare at Imelda with a stony expression. The priest was infuriated, his cheeks flushed red and his chest puffed up indignantly. I sighed and stood up again, feet assaulted by my shoes as they took my weight.
"Very well," I snapped, "Let us just speak with her." She was partly right. I didn't really care for being queen. But that didn't mean I was going to drop the responsibility onto just anyone's shoulders. The priest threw his hands up in the air with a sigh and stormed away, crown still clutched tightly in his fingers. The crowds slowly turned and glared at Imelda with distaste and angry murmurs buzzed around the room like a hive of bees.
"Liar."
"Filth."
"Little whelp."
I had to admire Imelda, even slightly, as she walked past them all, ignoring their remarks, without her composure even wavering. It was certainly something I wouldn't have been able to do.
***
We met in a small circular stone room, with only small arched windows towards the ceiling offering a little dim light. I could hear the dull buzz of voices throughout the castle as they waited for mine, or Imelda's return. I felt like Thalandor had become a huge hive, and the workers outside awaited the appearance of the new queen bee.
Imelda stared at me from across the room, and now, up close, I could see she was incredibly beautiful. Despite the fact that her clothes were torn and dirty, and her hair was a mess, her eyes were large and a rich dark green, so shockingly familiar though I couldn't place why. She had the angular features of the elves, with dark rich skin, but she lacked the white tattoos I had seen on the skin of Natona's tribe. I wondered if it was because she was from a different tribe, or maybe like Natona now, she didn't have one.
She noticed my stare and met it, her dark eyes swallowing me whole. I had to admit, even as she just stood there, her chin jutting out in an imperial manor, and the way she held herself, she could easily pass as a queen – if she was cleaned up.
But it made me suspicious. For a woman who claimed to have been raised amongst commoners, who only recently discovered she was royal – it did not explain her haughty demeanour or her arrogant, proud stance. If anything she should be showing respect, if not to me, but an already recognised monarch, Cedric.
"I want you to give me that crown." Imelda snapped, holding out her hand. "We both know it belongs to Me." she fidgeted, smoothing her hair away from her face. Though she shared the dark skin and sharp features of other elves, I noticed her differences to Natona. Natona had been taller, with thinner limbs. Imelda was curvier and smooth, where Natona had been harsh and straight lines.
"I will not give you the crown." I said calmly, "Not until you can prove yourself." Cedric stood beside me, arm wrapped around my waist. I felt safe and confident with him there, like no matter what Imelda tried to do, I would be okay. Slightly behind us Lance waited, a constant sentinel, poised to act.
"Well, this is all rather awkward." A snide voice said from the doorway. My heart leapt into my throat and I whirled to see a tall figure standing there, black hair draped charmingly around his face and green eyes sparkling. His shirt was slightly open and I could see the gleaming dragon tattoo swirled across his skin. He looked exactly as I had remembered, though the skin around his eyes was slightly tighter, as if he were tired.
"Claude!" I cried happily, "I thought you had gone!"
"I did go." He said coolly, "But I decided to come back. Sorry to disappoint, but I was worried that you had somehow managed to kill yourself. Trip and fall out a window, perhaps? I wouldn't put that level of stupidity past you." I ignored his jibes and broke away from Cedric, flying at Claude and pulling him into a hug. I had really missed him, surprisingly. He froze against me, a statue. He looked shocked – he had obviously not expected that reaction.
"You know that I just insulted you, right?" he asked slowly. When I refused to let go of him he patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. "Dear Ģija, what have you done to her? She's even more obtuse than I remember!" I stepped away from him, smiling, and walked back to Cedric. When his arm wrapped around my waist once more the humour left Claude's face and he eyed Cedric off darkly.
"So this is what you normally look like?" he asked, "Pompous, fancy-clothes and blank-faced? I think I liked you better when you were swimming with the fishes." Cedric's face hardened, his eyes narrowing in anger.
"How dare you?" he snapped, "What did I do to you?"
"Oh... you know. You're being pretty annoying... breathing and such."
"You're insulting me because I'm breathing?" Cedric growled. I suddenly felt a streak of apprehension run through me. I had forgotten how rude Claude could be.
"A little bit too loud, yes." Claude said, inspecting his nails, "Next time, just don't inhale until I'm gone." He flashed Cedric a wide grin before turning to Imelda. "An Elf, I see."
"What do you want, magician?" Imelda snapped, looking him up and down.
"What I want is a nice pair of boots," Claude said lightly, "but I'm sure no one is interested in my footwear. But you. You want the throne." He turned to look at me. "I can tell you right now, without a doubt, she is Soldin's daughter."
"How can you tell?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I compared her to you. Magic is really useful in that respect, you know. But of course, you know all about how useful magic is."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Cedric growled as I crossed my arms.
"May I ask, dear sir," Claude beamed, "That you kindly butt out of conversations that do not involve you?" Cedric opened his mouth to argue but I cut him off.
"To me?" I snapped, "You compared her to me? In case you aren't aware of it yet, I am not Soldin."
"No," Claude said, sounding bored, "But you are his family. You have a similar trace to what he did. And Imelda's is very close to yours. You two are related."
"So?" I said shortly, "Just because she is related to me does not make her the King's daughter. She could be my second cousin, four times removed." Claude eyed me for a moment, frustration plain in his face.
"Really, Irene?" he sighed, "Who put a spear up your arse?" he winked at Lance who tightened his grip on his own spear, an odd look on his face, "No offence, good sir." He turned back to me. "Just admit it. You know that she isn't lying. So let's just go and tell the priest there has been a change in plans. It is true that both of you have claims at the throne..."
"I am his daughter, I have the only right!" Imelda snapped. Claude held his hand up, rolling his eyes
"Shut up, will you?" he snapped without looking at her, "We get it: I am the one and only heir," he said in a pitchy imitation of her voice. He ignored her affronted look and continued, "But she wants to be Queen. She wants the throne. And you don't. So I can't understand why you are trying so hard to avoid handing the crown over."
I stared at him, before letting my gaze flicker between everyone in the room. Cedric looked uncertain, but I knew he would support me no matter what I did. Claude was tapping his foot impatiently – he was no help – and Imelda was watching me with a half-grin. She knew Claude was right. I knew Claude was right. I didn't want to be Queen. But something was telling me I shouldn't give up the throne. Not to her. I sighed.
"Because some things just don't add up." I said eventually, eyeing off Imelda, "For one, why would someone who was raised a commoner, like me act with such arrogance? No one I have ever met would dare pull a stunt like stopping a coronation unless they had been brought up believing they wouldn't be stopped."
"And I wasn't stopped." Imelda snapped back, "Because I am telling the truth!" she crossed her arms and began tapping her foot to the same rhythm as Claude. I glared at them both; dark hair, dark green eyes – if not for the difference in skin colour you could place them as siblings.
"Fine." I snapped, "Fine. I will let her have it. But just because I agree to it doesn't mean everyone else will." Why was I fighting this so much? I didn't want to be queen. I had actually been relieved when Imelda had shown up. Maybe it was just all timed too well, and the fact that everything had gone smoothly. And the fact that despite everything my gut was screaming at me that this was the biggest mistake I was ever going to make.
"How did you find out you were Soldin's daughter?" I asked shortly.
"Yes, how indeed?" Claude said happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands behind his back. He looked as if we were sharing a conversation on particularly good weather. I bit back a groan – I had forgotten how quickly he wore down on my nerves.
"My adoptive mother told me." Imelda said coolly, "I had always believed the lock of hair to be some of my mother's, but once Soldin was declared dead across the two kingdoms, she told me who's it really was. I was the heir to Thalandor, and how the lock of hair proved I was royalty."
"Such a believable story." I muttered under my breath, my suspicion growing.
"Yes, yes, quite plausible." Claude said hastily, "But could we hurry things up a bit? I saw a rather nice pair of boots in a store window on the way here and I refuse to have someone snap them up before me."
"Well then, I suppose we should go tell the priest." I said shortly, glaring at him before turning my dark gaze to Imelda, "If you are really to become Queen, it may as well be today." Claude led the way out of the room, a bounce in his step.
***
Imelda was the image of royalty as she sat in the throne. Her thick black hair had been washed and braided back, with the golden crown resting in her hair like a golden boat amongst black waves. The forest-green dress clung to her slender figure tightly, leaving no curve unseen. She was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Her pointed ears slitted through her air, adorned with golden orbs. The people of Thalandor had at first been displeased but now that she sat there, crown swimming in dark hair like a shining boat in a stormy ocean, it was hard to not be swept up in the emotions of everyone else.
"Her Majesty, Queen Imelda!" the priest shouted out, "Long live the Queen!"
The ceremony had been halted only long enough for Imelda to be cleaned and clothed, and though the people around me looked slightly apprehensive at this new woman, they cheered along with the priest.
"Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!" I shouted along with them, feeling slightly sour inside. I was a mixture of emotions. I was pleased I no longer had the burden of Queen-ship on my head, but I also felt like I had abandoned a duty I should've taken. And still my stomach turned queasily – something didn't feel right. But I couldn't help but grin when I realised this meant I was free. Free to leave with Cedric and return to Trinstone. Cedric squeezed my hand tightly, smiling as the crowds died down and Imelda stood graciously. It was as if she had born to be Queen – well then again, I guess she had. But not raised to be one, that voice hissed darkly.
"Thank you!" she smiled, "Thank you. But we must also applauded my cousin, and her gracious decision to hand me the throne. Irene, I thank you, as does all of Thalandor." The crowds whistled and cheered. I felt my cheeks warm. "And in celebration of this momentous occasion, I am holding a feat, and all are invited!" the cheers were louder this time, and people stamped their feet. I grinned. Food was always a cause for excitement, especially when it was paid for.
"Let's go for a walk." Cedric smiled at me, holding my hand up. I shifted closer to him, not even caring that the dress I still wore was being squashed. No one was watching us – I didn't care if I looked a mess. He led me away through the crowds and we exited the castle. Outside it was cool, with a sinking afternoon sun shrouded with thin grey clouds. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we wandered along the gravel paths, not bothering to keep track of where we were going.
"Are you okay, Irene?" he asked softly.
"Of course I am." I smiled up at him, "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, you just had the throne taken away from you." I nodded and stopped walking. He turned so he was facing me and took my hands. It sent shivers along my skin. I grinned.
"I never wanted it though." I said softly, "And though I can't shake the feeling that something... is... amiss... I am actually quite happy. I can leave and return to Trinstone with you now."
"That is true." Cedric smiled, "No more being separated." He rested his lips against my forehead. I closed my eyes.
"Together." I agreed.
***
The night was almost freezing as I hurried along the stone passageway towards the music and laughter that was the feast. I shivered in my thin dress and wished I had brought a cloak with me. I wanted to pull something around my bare shoulders. My dark hair offered little warm as it hung around my shoulders, tickling my skin like feathers.
"Irene!" a voice called out behind me as footsteps reached my ears. I turned to see Imelda walking towards me, her dark hair flowing behind her like a shadow, and her dress fell around her heavily, as green as an emerald. Her crown glimmered.
"Imelda?" I asked, slightly confused, "Shouldn't you be at the feast?"
"I was there, Cousin," she smiled, "But I came looking for you." I shuddered, though not from the cold. I didn't like her calling me cousin.
"Why?" I asked slowly.
"Because you are my cousin!" Imelda laughed, "You should be by my side at the fear where was can laugh and eat, and dance with many handsome men."
"I already have a handsome man." I said without thinking. I blushed as my thoughts returned to Cedric.
"Well, let us hurry and you can dance with him." Imelda laughed brightly. It was like listening to a coin drop; light, tinkly... pretty. She swept past me and I followed after her as she hurried along the hall. "Come on, Irene!" she cried enthusiastically. I wondered where the arrogant woman I had been arguing with earlier had gone – no more harsh words, only joy. She was acting like a child more than a queen. it eased the feeling in my stomach. Perhaps there was nothing amiss. She reached the doors that led into the dining hall. I stepped up beside her and she pushed the doors open wide.
Everyone turned to look at us and I instantly felt sick. Standing beside Imelda, tall, slender, beautiful, with her thin waist and willowy figure. Her long hair and gorgeous features... I felt like a small insignificant girl. A child. I was nowhere near as beautiful as Imelda, nowhere near as graceful.
And then I saw him, walking through the crowd towards me. Cedric. He was the only man in the room who was not staring at Imelda appreciatively, the only one who was looking at me. I smiled at him and hastily stepped away from Imelda. Stepped right into his arms.
"Cedric." I grinned.
"Irene," he smiled, "You look amazing."
"I look like a slug compared to Imelda." I said grudgingly. Cedric laughed, his cheeks flushed, and I wondered if he had been drinking.
"Not to me, you don't." Cedric said pulling me into a tight hug. I laughed, "To me you are the most beautiful girl in the room." His words slurred slightly as he spoke. I blushed as he kissed my forehead and we turned slowly on the spot as musicians played a slower tune.
"I'm sorry I'm late." I sighed, "I lost track of time."
"It is okay. I'm just glad you are here." Cedric murmured. His breath smelled of ale, warm and inviting.
"I'm sorry to interrupt this," a bright voice said loudly from behind me. I turned and saw Imelda watching us, a smile plastered on her beautiful face, "But would you mind sharing the king with me for a moment?"
"I... I... uh, sure." I said slowly. I didn't want to share him. Call me jealous, but I didn't like the idea of her dancing with him. Not one bit. But I just smiled and acted as if there was no problem, "I'll just sit... over there." what did Imelda want with Cedric?
The dance went by so slowly as I watched them waltz across the floor. Other dancers moved to the side to the give them room. It was a wondrous sight, to see the two most beautiful people dancing together. I felt a pang of jealously and hurt in my chest. They looked like they were made for each other... maybe Cedric thought so too. That thought filled me with a sense of dejectedness. If Imelda wished to take Cedric from me she could do it with ease. I could see him smiling as he looked at her, holding her close as the turned.
The song finally finished with a piercing note and relief flooded through me. It was over. Imelda leaned forwards and kissed Cedric on the cheek, before she led him back over to me.
"You indeed are a lucky girl, Irene." She said with a cheeky smile. She walked away, leaving Cedric to once more wrap his arms around me.
"I know I am." I breathed. Cedric chuckled.
"But not as lucky as I."