7.

The walk back to the palace was quiet. Atarah’s head was covered again. She was walking in the middle with the three soldiers surrounding her. The streets were almost empty, and little by little the street lights were turning on. Richard stopped at the intersection, where a fountain had just turned on and water droplets flew from the splashes. Atarah took off her hood. “Are we there yet?” she asked, but Richard only put up his hand. Someone was hiding in the left alley. “Come out.” Richard said. Atarah already had her hand gripped on the handle of the blade, she knew her reflexes were faster than the bullet. “I COMMAND YOU TO COME OUT.” He yelled this time. 

Atarah heard a low growl in the shadows, and purple-blue pupils blinked at the group several times. She smirked, letting go of her grip and relaxing. “It’s alright, Richard. She means no harm.” Richard looked at his queen, confused, but got his answer when Astara walked out of the shadows. Her eyes threateningly settled on Richard, her fangs out as she took small predatory steps towards the group. “Oh, shit.” He stepped back. They were clearly scared. They knew what Astara was capable of. Everyone had seen her in battle. “Shouldn't we keep going, it’s still a long way to the palace.” Atarah brought back their attention, and she whistled at Astara. A signal for her to calm down, which the wolf obeyed. 

“We have a stop before the palace.” Richard didn't look at her. 

“Where?” Atarah’s eyes were fixated on the back of his head. Richard didn't respond, so she kept her senses heightened. Astara was walking beside her, ready to give her energy so that Atarah can use them if anything goes wrong. That was her secret. The one thing she had hidden from even her closest people. Atarah could use animal's senses and powers to heighten her own senses and energy. But when she used Astara’s energy, she would go on a merciless killing spree in the battlefield. Nonstop. That was why she was made the captain of the royal guard. The ruthless princess, who desired her enemies' blood more than she desired material. 

Atarah realized they had come to a stop, and she quickly pinched her nose. “It smells like shit,” she said. Richard finally turned around, his rifle was placed in its place. His stance was calm. So they were meeting someone he knew, Atarah thought. “That’s because it is shit,” he said, sitting down on an upside down crate. Atarah heard a soft neighing and a splash of water. “Are we at the royal stables?’ she asked, walking towards the sound of the neighing. “Yes, your Majesty.” The soldier, who was leaning on the far end, away from Astara, said. His eyes were on the wolf’s every move, but Astara didn't care. She was busy playing with a bug. 

“Who are we meeting here?” She directed her question to Richard, who had taken out a long blue metallic stick and inhaled it in. The stick lit up. And he breathed out. The scent spreading in the atmosphere. “Adviser Delroy.” Just as he said his name, the advisor entered the stables, watching him step on the muddy track. His usual cloak hid his arms. “Glad to know you are safe, your highness.” Atarah folded her hands. Well, this was awkward, she thought. She had been trying to run away so that he didn't capture her as a suspect. “What do you want, delroy?” she said. The advisor sighed. His eyes looked puffy and tired, his face had grown older. Looks like the king’s death has taken a toll on him. “The throne is empty, your highness. It’s not the time to run away.” 

Was i wrong? Atarah thought. Does he really want me on the throne? “What about the king’s death?” She didn't want to show her weakness, nor her desire. “We are still investigating. But we need to hold a funeral, take care of the uprisings in the west village. This can all be gone once you are crowned queen.” He took a few more steps towards her. “I told you i am responsible for your birthright, your highness.” His eyes weren't red anymore, they weren't tired. “What do you say?” Atarah looked at Astara, who had stopped playing with the bug. She remembered her conversation with Delroy. She knew her father trusted him. And then her uncle. But both of them ended up dead. Everyone was looking at her, and then Atarah took off her cloak, revealing the black suit she was wearing. “I’ll take the crown.” She had a lot of questions stirring in her mind, and the first step to that was the Royal seat. 

They all walked from the back door. This time Atarah was in the lead. She knew her way to the palace, and the soldiers had fallen behind her. To their designated places. Richard was walking with the advisor, who kept looking at the amber lights on the palace. “Do you trust her?” he whispered. The advisor smiled gently. He knew the throne was a perfect place for her to get all the answers she needed. But she was still a hatchling, someone who needs to be guided, molded into a powerful ruler. Just like her father. “No. but I trust her anger.”