Chapter 23

Aymeri didn't sleep the entire night as she wrote on parchment how she would tell the people of the kingdom that her parents were murdered, and their beloved dead daughter Kumud was actually alive. She left out the part of Kumud poisoning their mother. The kingdom didn't need to know that. All she needed them to know was Ser Parzival's treason. She had to tell them that the magick was let back into Dramolux; that she was no longer going to keep it contained; that Empress Dimia was waging war on all of them to get hold of the dark magick so she could rule Dramolux.

This wasn't the everyday royal proclamation. She had to soften the words, that she knew, but she also had to be regal and stern. She had to allow the people to have a say in the matter too. She knew what she wanted: Ser Parzival's head in a wooden crate at Dimia's door. But what if the kingdom didn't want that? What if they simply wanted him hung? Or wanted to stone him to death?

By the end of the seventh draft, she knew there was nothing she could say—written or spoken—that would lessen the hurt and confusion of her people. She just had to speak it in the simplest terms she could muster. Then there was the declaration of war to worry about. Would the people understand? Would they be open to it?

Madam Bheva and Kumud were both in the room with her, helping her get ready. Once she finished braiding her sister's hair and placed her silver crown with painted vines upon her head, she asked her sister once again: "Are you sure you do not want the throne, Kumud? It is your right as the eldest daughter, not mine."

The girl shook her head again and Jorlyn translated, "I do not wish to be queen of anything. I only wish for a proper life. You deserve the crown."

Aymeri shook her head. "You deserve the crown, dearest sister."

Kumud smiled. "We can rule together since you will not take no for an answer. We can make decisions together, but you will have the final say. I know nothing about the kingdom. You have done all the reading since I—"

Aymeri put a hand over her sister's mouth to keep her from saying the words. "From this day forth, you did not kill Mother. Ser Parzival did. We will never mention it again. As far as I'm concerned, mother got what she deserved. I am sorry she allowed his evil, twisted mind to rule over hers. They erased our memories of each other so neither of us would ask. She was wrong to stop seeing you."

It pained her to think of her gentle, loving mother this way but if the books she read as a child taught her anything, it was that everyone had different faces. A face they showed to the public, a face they showed their family, a face they showed their friends, and their true face—the one they shared with no one other than the mirror reflecting back at them. Her version of their mother and Kumud's version of their mother proved that.

Aymeri kissed her sister's head as Madam Bheva bid her to sit down so her crown, gold with intricate lines— forever lines, her mother called them—carved on every inch, save the piece that slid into her hair. Forever lines, her mother explained, remind us that the Maudlin Kingdom does not have an ending, it only has a future. It continuously expands .

Madam Bheva held her hand out to help the queen stand. She took one last look in the mirror and took a deep breath. This was her first time wearing the traditional anhari of a queen. She adjusted the long burgundy sleeves so they didn't bunch at her elbows. She ran her hand over the gold floral pattern bodice to smooth it down and flared out the pleats of the long skirt that stopped at her ankles. Jorlyn draped the long shawl over her right shoulder and ward off the evil eye.

"It is time, Queen Aymeri." Jorlyn led her down to the throne room and out to its balcony. The courtyard was filled with people packed together like a canopy of leaves in an endless forest. Before exiting the doors, she turned to the mage. "Inform King Drystan." The mage nodded and excused herself.

The queen stepped out onto the balcony and waved to her people, silencing their discord. "Thank you all for gathering here this morning on such short notice. I have called you here to inform you all of the truth behind my mother's death."

Murmurs sounded through the crowd and silenced as she raised her hand to command attention. "My mother did not die of natural causes. She was murdered by Ser Parzival, head of the Royal Guard, my mother's most trusted advisor. Not only did he murder my mother, but he held my sister captive in a hidden, locked room in the attics of the castle."

As the people deliberated this harsh news, Aymeri held her hand out for Kumud to join her on the balcony. From where she stood, she could see the capital's people wiping their eyes as applause sounded, filling the air like thunder. "It has been revealed that Ser Parzival, our beloved —" her voice was filled with contempt, "head of the Royal Guard was merely pretending to care for Treoles while instead he was working against Treoles with his darling granddaughter, Queen Dimia of Aixeris."

Gasps filled the air as the people turned to each other, but Aymeri stifled them quickly. "It is no surprise that magick has, once again, filled our realm. My mother swore to protect it and so shall I. It is the magick Queen Dimia wants. It is the magick that drives her hatred and allows her to conquer countries and usurp kingdoms. But no more! Treoles will fight against her, and we will bar the dark magicks once again. I cannot take away what she already has but I can stop her from obtaining more. There is no telling what she has learned and received from her vile grandfather, but I promise she will receive no more. And, unlike my mother, I will not rid this world of the light magicks it so deserves. Beings like me and my sister should not have to hide when we have done nothing wrong with our magick. Beings like Ser Parzival and Dimia, who use that magick to suppress and hurt others, must perish!"

Applause rang through the air and gave Aymeri the boost of confidence she needed. She had captured the love and trust of her kingdom, just as she had always wanted and hoped for. "I come to you, the people, to ask you what should be done with the traitor. All in favor of beheading, say ‘aye!'"

A synonymous "aye" roared from the crowd.

"Lady Jorlyn," Aymeri addressed Jorlyn who now stood beside her. "Give King Drystan the command."

Jorlyn and Aymeri turned their gazes to the execution block in the far eastern corner of the courtyard. Jorlyn gave her brother the signal and Aymeri's eyes closed as she wrapped her sister in her arms so they wouldn't have to see the brutality. They ignored his ranting claims that Dimia would kill them all for this transgression.

None of it mattered to them. They would deal with Dimia. Now, they no longer lived in his shadow and they would be ready for whatever Dimia had planned.

Cheers rang through the air like bells as Parzival's traitorous head rolled to the ground and with it, a wave of relief washed over Aymeri's being. "See to it that anyone involved with him meets the same fate."

Jorlyn nodded, then inclined her head. "It has been done."

"It has?"

Jorlyn nodded. "Drystan gave me the order last night. He wasn't sure you'd have the mindset to do so because you were so busy writing your speech to the people."

Aymeri smiled. It had taken all of her to give Jorlyn the command to prepare Parzival for execution, and that was only after all the drafts she had written the night before. Queen Aymeri raised her hand and bowed to the people, and the crowd dispersed. For the first time since her mother's death, Aymeri felt whole, fully alive. No longer was she the broken daughter. She had a different role now: the loving sister.