Hey Team,
Thank you for your patience, here is Chapter 49. We are getting close to the end of the book now, maybe only two or so Chapters left?
I'm in a rush so will type more soon,
Much love,
Daisy xx
_________________________
Chapter 49 | Past and Present
*
"I have stood for thousands of years
and have not faltered;
the day I met you,
my legs shook."
- thesolitarywordsmith
(Promptuarium)
*
OBSIDIAN
Obsidian stood with his arms folded firmly across his chest, leaning against the side of a towering archway. The archway was one of the many that lined the side of the shimmering diamond hallway, opening the space to the fantastical landscape that was sprawled below. Obsidian studied the magnificent view with a coldly distant expression fixed on his face.
Behind him, he could feel the stares of the two guards boring into his back. If he were a lesser man, he suspected that he may have already exploded internally from their fierceness of their gaze, but as it were, he was simply trying not to say something sardonic that may or may not result in his arrest.
Behind the two guards stood a door, and from beyond that door, the sound of muffled sobbing still echoed. Obsidian was trying hard not to think about the scene within the room, but he had endured for an hour already and his patience was beginning to wear thin.
He shifted slightly and felt the gazes on his back sharpen. Resisting the urge to turn around, he bit his tongue and rolled his eyes instead. He had sworn he was not going to retaliate. No matter what happened.
Staring out at the impressive scenery that lay beyond the archway, Obsidian vaguely entertained himself by searching yet again, for the form of a dragon amongst all of the glittering white diamond. His search was pointless however, Unabonan and Anthemin had vanished ever since they had led him to the Palace, and while Obsidian felt his might have some inkling as to just where they had disappeared off to, it was definitely not in his place to follow.
He squinted against the glare for another moment before looking away completely and wondered again, why any-one would choose to live here. His eyes were throbbing after only an hour of enduring the brightness, he could not imagine being drowned in such a light every waking hour of the day.
Initially, when Obsidian had first passed through the colossal waterfall and was spat out the other side, he was convinced that he had gone blind, so piercing was the light emitting from the Kingdom. As his sight had gradually adjusted, Obsidian was able to absorb the view that sprawled before him, mythical in its majesty.
While Obsidian had heard plenty of tales regarding the Palaces in the Sky, part of him had always taken these legends as nothing but that, mere myth – tales of wonder, spun by wishful humans who sought a reprieve from the mud and toil of the mortal world. Many had claimed to have been there. Most of them were insane.
Upon witnessing the Kingdom for himself, Obsidian discerned that all of the tales had been false. Nothing that he had heard could have prepared him for such extravagance, for the glistening, shimmering structures that twisted elegantly out of the cloudscape and reached for a sky that was the palest shade of blue Obsidian had ever seen, for the diamond Palace that was destination of the two dragons flying in front of him, the sheer size of it more breath-taking than any dreamed up legends could have ever comprehended. He understood now, why those who spoke of this place were insane. To find out such a wealth existed, only to realise that the priceless gemstone that was so coveted by humans, was as good as brick to these people, would be enough to drive any man crazy.
If he had arrived under different circumstances, perhaps Obsidian would have felt more at ease and allowed himself the time to admire the landscape he was flying through – but then he thought of the people who inhabited said land and decided that, no, not even Circe at his side would be enough for him to feel comfortable in a place such as this.
This feeling of wariness had increased exponentially as he had landed at Unabonan's instruction, just inside the Palace boundaries and had been immediately surrounded by soldiers, their expressions grim and aghast as they observed his transformation back into a man. That alone was enough to remind Obsidian that here, in this Kingdom, he was nothing but an abomination.
The opening of a door pulled him back to the present and Obsidian turned his head away from the piercing whiteness, although the scenery remained burned onto his eyelids and he could see an inverted version of it hovering in front of him every time he blinked.
Squinting slightly, Obsidian watched as the two guards stepped to either side and allowed for a figure to emerge. Upon viewing the person, they both bowed low once, their expressions solemn.
"Your Highness."
Zephyr's gaze landed Obsidian and he raised a hand, dismissing the guards with an elegant flick of his fingers. "Leave us."
"Yes, Majesty."
The guards bowed once more before turning and setting off down the hall. Obsidian watched their backs until they disappeared around a corner and out of sight. No longer able to prolong the inevitable, he looked at Zephyr warily.
"I didn't kill him."
"I didn't say you did," Zephyr replied mildly, "and he isn't dead, for a start."
Obsidian folded his arms across his chest, levelling the other man with a cool stare. "While I am pleased to hear that, it's generally been implied that I'm the one responsible for his current state." he said curtly.
Zephyr's expression was unreadable. "The only one who has noticed that implication is you, Obsidian Bones."
Obsidian's jaw clenched, "So you are saying you trust me?"
"I didn't say that either," Zephyr responded impassively, "but I would like to hear what transpired, before making any judgements. If you are willing of course."
"You ask that like I have a choice," Obsidian pushed himself away from where he was leaning against the glittering diamond wall, "but I am happy to give you a recount. Either way, I have nothing to hide." He made as though to step towards the doors of the room that lay beyond but before he could approach, Zephyr raised a hand to stop him.
"While I am happy to hear you are confident, if you would like to keep your head attached to your body, I wouldn't recommend stepping through those doors," the Air Sprite said wryly, "My Sister has practically lost both of her children in the space of a week. On top of that, her Brother has all but risen from the dead. She is not in her right mind. I highly doubt she wants to see a face with such similarities to the man who is the root cause of all of her grief at this moment in time-"
"I don't look like him," Obsidian snapped abruptly, unable to hold himself back. Immediately after he spoke, he realised how childish he sounded and he looked away, his expression surly.
Zephyr did not reply immediately, which only served to make Obsidian feel all the more pissed off. He could sense that the other man was just about to speak, when the doors Zephyr had exited through opened once again, revealing yet another figure.
Obsidian had never properly met the Queen who ruled over the floating Kingdom of glittering diamond, but from the first glance he could tell – even though her eyes were rimmed red, her face pinched, and her lips set in thin line, that she was not someone to be trifled with.
Her presence was heavy and ominous, and upon seeing Obsidian she halted. Her opalescent eyes narrowed, and she lifted a hand, beckoning him forward with one finger. In that moment, Obsidian had a fleeting impression, that, if she so desired, she could destroy worlds with that very same finger. He wondered – although it was merely speculation – how many mortals had danced before in the palms of her hands.
"Come," Airocei uttered imperiously, turning to glide back into the room.
She was definitely Zalas's Mother alright, the fleeting thought skimmed wildly through his mind and for one terrifying moment, his lip twitched upwards before he schooled his expression. Right now, he could not afford his usual luxury of not giving a fuck. There was too much on the line for that, and he wasn't stupid.
Obsidian only faltered for a moment before stepping in after Airocei, feeling a little cagey. Although he felt Zephyr following silently behind him, as the doors closed with a click, he didn't know whether the other man's presence should make him feel better or worse.
The room within was spacious and decadent, just as the rest of the Palace was. Light poured in from the open arch way at one end of the room, as well as the partially translucent ceiling above, that was, no doubt, carved from diamond. Just like the rest of this ridiculous, glittering place, Obsidian scoffed in his mind.
Ahead of him, Airocei continued forwards to reclaim the seat that she had no doubt just vacated, positioned by the large bed at the far end of the room.
"Take a seat," she gestured to the golden divan behind Obsidian.
"If it's all the same to you, I would rather stand," Obsidian said cautiously, "your Highness," he added at the last second, trying not to make the form of address sound sarcastic. It was hard and he was pretty sure he didn't succeed.
Airocei didn't seem to notice, however. She merely sighed and waved a hand. "Do as you please."
Zephyr stepped further into the room, walking between the two of them as he settled into divan beside the open archway that took up the far wall. His presence seemed to ease the tension in the room somewhat, and Obsidian shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Zephyr reached for the crystal decanter on the glistening side-table and poured himself a glass of some translucent spirit. The cynical part of Obsidian's brain wondered if the chosen liquid was purely an aesthetic choice, to match the rest of the glimmering room.
Obsidian's gaze shifted back to the bed, more specifically, the person laying neatly between the sheets, his arms resting on-top of the smooth covers. Zalas had been cleaned properly since Obsidian's half-assed attempt earlier, but the removal of blood and dirt only seemed to highlight his unnatural paleness – his skin almost translucent, his closed eyelids a deep lavender. Just below the fold of the blankets, Obsidian could make out the deep, blood red of the gemstone that lay, embedded within the Prince's bare chest.
"Is he dead?" He asked bluntly, even though Zephyr's earlier words had suggested otherwise. Obsidian thought he could be forgiven for doubting that assessment, Zalas looked plenty dead currently. His eyes flickered towards the Queen.
Airocei sighed, reaching out to brush her fingers across the Prince's forehead tenderly. "No," she replied quietly, "but he might as well be."
Obsidian's jaw clenched and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Can you fix it?" He asked gruffly.
Airocei seemed to weigh her words heavily before she spoke them. "Yes. At a cost." She said eventually.
Obsidian mulled over her answer, nodding slowly. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what that cost was, and he eyed the red pendant doubtfully.
Airocei noticed the direction of his gaze. "It isn't for you to think about," she said softly, "Although it is apparent that I owe you my gratitude, for acting as you did. I thank you. Truly."
"I have no need for your thanks," Obsidian said without hesitation, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be being polite.
Surprisingly however, Airocei did not seem at all offended. "No, I don't suppose you do," she said musingly, "but you will have to bear with me a little longer, I have a question for you." From the diamond side table, she lifted a translucent jewellery box that Obsidian had not immediately noticed.
Nestled on the deep burgundy velvet within, lay the two pendants, one gold, one blue. Obsidian's gaze was drawn towards the latter, and deep sense of longing welled up within him as he observed the sapphire stone.
"The world has not been kind to you, Obsidian Bones," the Queen said, breaking him from his trance, "Nor just. Zalas certainly, has shown you neither mercy, nor impartiality. If you had chosen to let him die and take the pendants for yourself, none could have blamed you at this point. So why did you save him? And why return these to me? These are the questions I have for you. I hope you will grant me the curtesy of answering truthfully. You have my word, that your answers will not leave this room."
Why.
Why, why, why.
That was always the question wasn't it? But in this case, there was only one answer. And Obsidian gave it easily, simply because he had nothing left to hide. Perhaps, once upon a time, he would have considered the consequences that could still await him, should he tell the truth. He would have analysed Queen Airocei's words with the upmost mistrust, scrutinising for an ulterior motive.
But that was then. And this was now.
Now, he was done with the games, the lies, and the choosing of sides. Now, he was finished with the betrayals, the resurrections, and the mysteries. Now, he was just done.
He wanted it to be over. He wanted his life back.
He wanted to go home.
And if someone had asked him where his home was previously, Obsidian would have said that his ship was his home.
But she had shown him he was wrong. She had shown him that a home was not just a place to rest your head at night. That it was built by something more than just physical materials.
And so now for him, home was golden curls, flashing sea blue eyes, and chasing hands smoothing over his shoulders. Home was the people she had collected around them, to sail alongside him, no longer leaving him alone to shoulder the weight of the world. Home was her voice, whispering in his ear, murmuring across his skin, calling out to him from across the deck as she laughed.
He didn't know when home had become her, but he did not have to think for long to know that she had always been a sanctuary for him.
"Perhaps I would have once," Obsidian confessed freely, "and I would have believed he received what was coming to him. But that was when I had nothing to live for. And now I have someone I must return to, at any cost. But I cannot do that if I am being hunted." Obsidian could feel Zephyr's eyes on him, but he resolutely refused to look at the other man's expression, unsure if he would like what he saw there.
"So, you seek to clear your name." Airocei stated.
"No," Obsidian shook his head, "I'm not looking to redeem myself in the eyes of the world. My past transgressions have already been received and forgiven by those who are important to me. I am now merely seeking a way back to my old life."
Airocei raised an eyebrow, "And you truly believe that you can go back to the human world? The way you are now?"
Obsidian gave a small smile that did not reach his eyes. "Your son may have warned me about the dangers of the dragon form," was all he felt necessary to say.
"I see," Airocei replied, her expression divulging nothing, but Obsidian felt that her next words, although still formal, lacked a little bit of their earlier frostiness. "Very well, I understand. Thank-you for your honesty, Pirate King." The title spoken from her lips, seemed to contain the slightest hint of humour that Obsidian chose to ignore as he inclined his head delicately in reply.
He realised, of course, that he was not actually Royalty – the crown on his head was one that was crafted out of the reputation he had carved into the seas – so to hear such a form of address spoken from the mouth of one such as she, Obsidian could at least appreciate the irony.
Airocei placed the jewellery box, and the pendants within, to one side and clasped her hands loosely on her lap. "And now, I will need to trouble you to recount for me the events that transpired during your fight with Zeus Gold. Please, do your best to include every detail. You may not realise this, but where he is concerned, it is important that we examine everything – least some underlying plots remain unseen beneath the surface."
"No, I understand all too well," Obsidian nodded and cast his memory back, recounting the series of events that had led him to this point.
Time passed as he spoke, but Obsidian barely noticed, and he felt slightly detached; it was almost as though he was listening to someone else talking for him. Assuming that Zephyr had mentioned the previous events that resulted in Zeus's resurrection, Obsidian began at the moment he had left the ship with the intention of seeking Zeus out.
He told Airocei of their discoveries at the Earth Kingdom, their run in with Darius, and the current state of the Elven Capital. He included all of the details from the location of their fight, to the mysterious golden cages that Zeus had conjured.
He told Airocei how the Nyx had been defeated, his words flowing easily, right up until the moment that Zalas had thrown himself in-front of Zeus's blade and then, embarrassingly, he seemed to falter.
Obsidian could vividly picture the moment his Father's sword had pierced Zalas's chest, as though he was standing right in front of him and he gritted his teeth together, unsure of why he was so affected. Unable to hold Airocei's piercing gaze any longer, he looked towards the arch window.
"I didn't ask him to save me," he said forcefully.
"No," After a moment's silence, Airocei's reply was surprisingly steady, "no-one ever does. Continue."
Obsidian jerked his head back around to look at her, shocked by her placidness. He searched her iridescent eyes for blame, sure that it must be lurking somewhere, but there was none. He glanced at Zephyr, but the other man merely raised the glass in his hands to his lips, taking a long sip. The action seemed to say, I guess I was wrong.
Gathering himself, Obsidian schooled his expression and nodded, continuing swiftly.
By the time he had finished, he felt strangely light. As though an unknown weight had been pressing on his shoulders until that moment. He supposed that this was what it felt like to be truly free of any guilt. He licked his lips lightly, his throat suddenly unbearably dry.
Zephyr appeared soundlessly at his side, holding out a glass the same as his own. "Water," the Air Sprite said quietly.
After a brief moment of hesitation, Obsidian took the offered drink and downed it swiftly, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. Immediately, Zephyr pressed another glass into his other hand and removed the empty one.
"Not water."
Obsidian could have sworn the man's eyes twinkled.
Retreating back to the divan, Zephyr lowered himself down again, his expression thoughtful. "It appears there is much to consider," he said to his sister and Airocei made a distracted noise of agreement, her fine brows furrowed as she thought.
Obsidian took a subtle whiff of the liquid in his glass before taking a sip. It was definitely alcohol, that much he could tell from the familiar way it burned hotly down his throat. But the name eluded him, despite the strangely familiar taste. After a moment, it came to him and the corners of his lips curled upwards. White rum.
"And you are sure that he is dead?" This time Zephyr addressed Obsidian and Obsidian accented with a swift jerk of his head.
"Yes."
Zephyr frowned, "It would be good if this was where it ended, but some how I think that we have only uncovered the tip of the ice-berg."
Obsidian's eyes narrowed at the implication. "Meaning?"
Airocei leaned forward slightly, "Meaning that your Father's knowledge of the Nyx, as well as the other magic he wielded when you fought him, is suspicious."
Obsidian recalled Hobbson's story from back on the ship and his eyes narrowed. "You think that the Fae are involved somehow?" He asked sharply.
"The Fae have not been seen, or heard from for decades," Zephyr said broodingly, "which I have always thought of as strange, considering their character. The Faeries are not ones to so lightly forget transgressions against them. As you probably noticed with your Father."
Obsidian snorted coolly, "You've got that right. So what, you think that my Father actually managed to contact them?"
"It is possible," Airocei replied, "although I doubt he would have been well met. A human fae half-breed would not be accepted by the Faeries that I remember. Especially in the Unseelie court. However, they may have seen him as useful potentially ..."
"You think he was a pawn," Obsidian stated directly, suddenly realising the direction of the Queen's implication, "you think that he made a deal with them."
"That seems more realistic doesn't it?" Zephyr's voice was dark, "How else could he know of such spells? And the Nyx Resurrection ritual? That magic is not known by any, other than the Fae themselves."
"So then what does it mean?" Obsidian asked curtly, "That the Fae are returning?"
Airocei's lips pulled together in a thin line. "Possibly," she said, after a pause, "but there is no way of knowing. Also," she raised one thin brow, "forgive me for speaking frankly, but this information does not need to affect you, should you choose not to let it. You have no obligation to become involved in this."
Obsidian's back stiffened slightly. "I know," he replied tersely.
"Good." Airocei gaze slid from to him to rove over the prone form of her son, still motionless beside her. Her hand skimmed over Zalas' face lightly, as though checking the temperature of his skin. Obsidian didn't really think there was anything to check though – despite the blankets covering him, the Prince looked ice cold.
"Will you do with those?" Obsidian jerked his head towards the other two pendants, lying harmlessly in their extravagant casing.
"I am unsure," Airocei glanced at the gemstones, "although I think a re-evaluation is necessary after the events that transpired."
"They seem more trouble than they are worth, to be perfectly honest," Obsidian grumbled under his breath.
Unexpectedly, Airocei's thoughts seemed to align with his own. "You may be right," she murmured, giving a cursory glance over the stones once more before closing the lid to the jewellery case with a snap, "enough about that now though. I have asked my questions, and you came here with a different intention after all, didn't you?"
Obsidian pushed away from the wall and straightened, his gaze hardening. "Yes," he said, "I did."
"I was wondering about that," as thought sensing the direction the conversation was about to take, Zephyr spoke, his eyes pinned on Obsidian, "I thought that it was unusual for you to be travelling alone." The implication in his words was clear.
"Yes," Obsidian said grimly, swallowing his pride as he turned to properly face the older man. "and it was not by choice. There is a favour I need to ask from you."
Zephyr slung one long arm over the back of the divan, his gaze intense, lips set into a thin line of displeasure. "I'm listening," he said.
*
CIRCE
Circe faced the grand doors that led to the throne room with trepidation and a steadily increasing desire to vomit – although she was fairly certain that nothing would come out if she did.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ambrose looking at her and she purposefully pretended not to see him, glancing up instead, at the ornate ceiling and the twisting figures painted high above.
She heard the Water Sprite release an almost imperceivable sigh before he approached the doors and knocked. Once, then twice.
"Your Majesty, I have brought the Princess as requested." His voice rang out, as smooth and clear as a bell, and with it came the voices of the crowds Circe had just walked through, echoing endlessly in her ears.
Princess!
Princess, look this way!
Welcome home Princess!
She studied the figures on the ceiling, so high and out of reach, and felt so small in comparison. Her eyes drifted to the form of a beautiful merman, painted with his powerful golden tail holding him suspended in the water, torso twisted, brows furrowed, as he looked down on those walking below, trident gripped powerfully in one hand. His black hair billowed in the water around his stern face, and for a moment Circe felt as though his stare could see right through her and the façade she had so carefully arranged.
Fake. He seemed to say. You are a fake.
It was true. She had never felt so fake in her life. She had thought she had steeled herself enough. She had believed she was mentally prepared.
But nothing could have readied her for the onslaught of guilt that washed over her like a raging flood, swelling and rising with each step she took through the adulating crowd, knowing that she was unworthy of their praise and adoration, knowing that soon she would be turning her back on them, and that their words of admiration would turn into cries of disappointment and anger.
The doors began to open, and Circe gathered her thoughts, pulling her eyes away from the judgemental figures on the ceiling, stepping forward behind Ambrose. The stare from those painted eyes followed her as she walked, burning into her spine.
It was as though she had leapt from one fire pit into another however, and once she had stepped fully into the throne room, her feet halting on the plush red carpet, she felt eyes on her once again. And this gaze was so much heavier, weighing her down until she felt as though her lungs were being crushed, her heart beating frantically in her chest like a caged bird.
The room was thick with unspoken tension, and stubbornly, Circe did not want to be the first one to speak. Her resolve was just beginning to wane however when the other moved first.
Without lifting her head, Circe could sense the woman seated on the throne had the far end of the room had stood. It was only when the first words fell from her Mother's lips, that Circe lifted her head to meet Evangeline's eyes.
"Welcome home Daughter."
Her Mother was as beautiful as always, Circe thought vaguely, as she looked towards the ethereal figure that was standing, poised and elegant, on a platform that seemed to lift her into the realm of Gods, but was actually only a few steps upwards from where Circe herself stood.
Evangeline descended onto the second step from the top, her golden curls floating weightlessly around her shoulders as she shifted. Circe had still not spoken, so Evangeline continued.
"I am sorry that we had to meet again under such circumstances."
Circe's expression was abruptly fierce, and she was shocked by the anger with which the words tumbled out of her mouth. "You're not sorry."
Visions of her walk to the Palace were pushing into her mind, the people and their adoring faces, their clasping hands, their joyous praise. Her Mother was not sorry.
The two women regarded each other for a long moment.
All of a sudden Evangeline sighed and with her sigh, all of the tension that had been building in the room until that moment seemed to dissipate. The otherworldly aura that had surrounded her Mother until that moment dimmed slightly and unexpectedly, she appeared exhausted.
"For goodness sake child, anyone who looked at you would think I had dragged you here to torture you." Evangeline laughed, a little despairingly.
Circe ignored her, "You knew what my answer was before I arrived," she said curtly, "I did not come expecting a warm welcome."
Evangeline sighed again, "Yes I suppose I did, but I didn't expect such hostility from you Circe. I can see things have changed between then and now – it's starkly obvious. But I'm not sure what I have done to warrant such –
"It's not what you have done, Mother," Circe answered frostily, "it's what you didn't do."
Evangeline's blue eyes hardened slightly, "If you are referring to that Pirate, Circe I am sorry, but I have nothing to apologise for. That man confessed in front of us all. I merely acted based on the knowledge I was provided with. If I remember correctly, at the time you too also believed him a traitor."
Circe tsked and looked to the side. "I was wrong," she said bitterly, "I cannot argue with that. But you were biased, and you took advantage of me in return. You know you did."
"I never hid my intentions from you Circe," Evangeline said quietly, "you knew the future I wanted for you was here, by my side. Not gallivanting off around with world with some Pirate. And the son of Zeus Gold no less."
"That Pirate is, at this very moment, fighting to save your skin," Circe glared fiercely at her Mother, "after the treatment you and everyone else have shown him, he certainly didn't need to put his neck on the line. Even though none of you ever thought to look inwards, to find the real traitor that was hiding among you all this time, Obsidian still went to clean up your mess. But you would still stand in front of me, look me in the eye, and tell me he's just some Pirate," Circe said scathingly.
Her heart was racing as the words poured out from between her lips. She hadn't even realised how truly angry she was until now. Abruptly her both of her Fathers face's flashed into the forefront of her mind and her emotions welled, her mouth moving faster than her brain.
"Even though you of all people should know better. I mean, it's not as if you are so innocent yourself Mother –
"Enough," Evangeline raised a hand, silencing her before she could get any further.
Circe stared, a little wild eyed, at the woman in front of her who was staring back, equally as stunned by Circe's sudden outburst.
The hand Evangeline had lifted to cut Circe off was trembling slightly and she reached out to catch the limb as if it weren't her own, bringing her hands back down and clasping them tightly in front of her.
"Alright," Evangeline said finally, "you are right. I will not comment any further on Obsidian Bones. But know this Circe. Don't you for one second, believe that he stepped forward out of the goodness of his own heart. He had his own motives for choosing to fight the battle he is fighting now. Regardless of who it affected; he would have gone anyway. It is simply convenient that his actions benefit us all," Evangeline's gaze was steady as she looked Circe right in the eye, one brow arching slightly, "Am I wrong?"
"You are not wrong," Circe said stiffly, "but that still doesn't dimmish his actions in any way."
Evangeline hummed noncommittedly and her hands shifted to sit behind her back. "Enough about that," she said, seeming to have regained some of her earlier composure, "after all, we are here to discuss your actions, not his."
"Yes," Circe agreed, her chin lifting slightly.
"You will remember," Evangeline began, "that you swore an oath, to serve the people of this country."
"Yes," Circe stated.
For a moment, Evangeline seemed to pause, as though considering her next words. Circe saw her eyes flicker across to the figure that had been standing slightly behind her, silent this entire time. Circe's own gaze slid across to appraise Ambrose also, although the Water Sprite seemed to be rather unaffected, his vibrant blue eyes as impassive as always.
The Queens hesitation was only momentary, and she soon carried on as though she had never faltered to begin with.
"You now wish to abdicate from the throne," Evangeline stated, "In our culture, abdication is not taken lightly. Once you abdicate, you relinquish all monarchical authority with the understanding that it can never be restored. Your title as 'Princess' will be renounced, as will any Royal privileges you have benefited from until the moment of abdication." At this point, Evangeline's voice became a little thick, but her gaze on her daughter remained steady.
"In the History of our Kingdom, only one has ever chosen to abdicate the throne, and his abdication occurred a very long time ago. Most of the citizens who are alive today will not remember it – instead, yours will be the first they will witness."
Circe could feel Ambrose shifting behind her, but her attention was focused solely on her Mother. "I understand," she replied because it seemed as though Evangeline was waiting for her to say something.
Upon hearing that, the Queen's expression fell slightly, as though she was hoping her words would be enough to change Circe's mind.
"You will be required to give an announcement before the masses."
Circe had been expecting that. She swallowed and nodded. "I understand," she repeated.
"Very well," the disappointment in Evangeline's tone was clear, "You have two days to prepare. Ambrose, show her to her room." She gave Circe one last meaningful look, "If you should change your mind within these two days ..."
Circe turned to leave. "I won't." She said firmly, not sparing a single glance backwards.
"This way Princess," Ambrose said quietly as he led her from the room. As they stepped back into the hall, Circe thought she heard her Evangeline speak quietly, but then the heavy doors were shut tight and her Mother was hidden from view.
*
The walk to her quarters was long and silent. Circe lost track of how many turns they made, and the Palace seemed more unfamiliar and unfriendly the further they walked. Her footsteps echoed through the long halls, Ambrose's ever silent pace in front of her, only adding to the feeling of isolation. They barely met anyone on the route they took, the difference was a stark contrast to the last time she had visited, when the Palace halls had been bustling and full of life.
As though he could read her thoughts, Ambrose spoke. "You are staying in a different wing to last time," he said, as he led her through a hallway illuminated by giant floor to ceiling stained glass panels, "it is seldom used – Her Majesty thought that you would appreciate the privacy.
Ah. That made more sense. Circe nodded vaguely in reply as her feet slowed, allowing her more time to absorb the scenes that were crafted into the stained glass windows. Each panel contained a different figure – a mixture of Sirens and Water Sprites - but when they reached the centre of the hall, the image depicted was spread across three panels and it consumed Circe's vision.
"Gisir Ilyrana," She breathed, recognising the great water Dragon instantly, "it's him isn't it?" She confirmed of Ambrose.
The Water Sprite paused in front of her and looked back over his shoulder, his crystal blue eyes slowly raking over the image set in glass. He nodded. "Yes, it is." He said softly.
"Who is that standing in front of him?" Circe asked, curious despite herself. She pointed at the slight figure that hovered in the ocean in front of Gisir Ilyrana's piercing, emerald gaze. The person's back was to the viewer, their face hidden as they gazed up at the dragon. Azure blue hair billowed out like a cloud of ink and Circe could see they had legs instead of a tail. "A Water Sprite?" She murmured, stepping forward to get a closer look.
The entire masterpiece was breath-taking, and the longer Circe gazed, the more compelled she felt to look. If she stood directly behind the figure of the Water Sprite, she almost felt as though Gisir Ilyrana was looking down at her instead. Her recent meeting with the Dragon let her imagine the weight of his gaze through the glass and the fine hairs on the back of her neck and arms prickled in response.
"Yes," Ambrose's reply made her start a little – she had almost forgotten he was there. He was still standing in the same place, a few feet away from her, his gaze still fixed on the scene depicted before him.
"Who is it?" She asked, strangely certain that he would know the answer. There was something in the way he looked at the person, as though they were someone familiar.
Ambrose did not speak for a long moment. And then he turned to face Circe, his lips set in a callous line. "The last person to abdicate the throne."
Circe was momentarily speechless. Ambrose turned away from her and began to walk further down the corridor. "Come, your room is just ahead."
"Wait," Circe hurried to catch up to him, reaching a hand out instinctively to catch his arm, "you can't just say that much and then walk away," she said, a little frustratedly.
"There is hardly any more to say," Ambrose said impersonally, as he continued down past the last of the stained-glass panels and back into the decorative halls.
"Yes, there is," Circe insisted, "like what they were doing – in the story I mean – there is a story, isn't there? Otherwise, why would it be there?"
"It is not a story," Ambrose said curtly as he halted in front of a door, "it is a reminder."
Circe placed herself in front of him stubbornly, "Are you going to tell me about it or not?" She demanded.
Ambrose rounded on her suddenly, his hand reaching past her head to slam into the door behind her with a bang. She jumped, looking up to see a frightening expression raging across his face.
Circe sucked in a breath unconsciously and her sharp inhale seemed to act as a trigger, pulling Ambrose out of his thoughts. His expression became emotionless once again and the hand on the door behind her slid down to grip the door knob. With a twist, he opened it and she all but fell inside.
Ambrose regarded her coolly, "We have reached your quarters Princess," he inclined his head stiffly, "please call for me if there is anything else you should need."
The door clicked quietly closed behind his retreating figure, and then Circe was left alone in the room with her wildly racing heart and an awful feeling that, whatever it was that had been occurring in the scene between Gisir Ilyrana and the unknown Water Sprite, she would find out soon enough for herself.
*