8.

Margaret was the first person who rushed towards the guards and fell on her knees. “It was my fault.” She cried. “I asked her to flee. Punish me, leave her be.” The guards exchanged a look. They were confused, and Atarah felt a powerful emotion towards the woman. “No one is punishing anyone, Margaret. Get up.”  Atarah bent down and spoke to the woman in her ear. “You’re the head court lady. Compose yourself.” Margaret wiped away her tears. Her faded red locks had come undone from the braid, her eyes were a mess from the running eyeliner. She looked at Delroy and then at the princess. Getting up slowly, she dusted off her skirt and wiped away the tears. A soldier handed her a napkin with a smile, and she took it, clearing the eyeliner off her face. 

“Listen up everyone.” Delroy gathered us around in a group,  hunched over, “The princess never left the palace. She wasn't seen at the port. She needed some time alone to grieve.” He then met eyes with the three guards and Margaret. “Are we clear?” they all nodded their heads. 

“The princess needs some time to rest. We have to prepare for the funeral tomorrow.” He bowed his head to Atarah and turned towards the left wing of the palace. The guards had gone back to their positions, guarding the coffin. “Your high-majesty, I think you should get some sleep.” Atarah had something else on her mind. She had her eyes set on the place where Delroy’s shadow had lingered for a few seconds and then disappeared. Can she really trust him? What would be the price of that? Who will i lose this time? I can’t lose anyone now. I don't have anyone now. That’s when Astara rubbed her face on her thigh, as if hearing her thoughts. Atarah smiled at the wolf. “I love you too, my love.” She thought. 

“What are you thinking about, Your Majesty?” 

“Oh, nothing Margaret. You know. I haven't been crowned yet.”

“But you will, right?” They were walking arm in arm, like they have always done when she was little. 

“Of course. It's my birthright, it’s what my father wanted.” Atarah smiled in the distance, remembering the words Delroy had spoken to her in the morning. God, the battle was just this morning. It feels like weeks already. She stared at the wall where a painting of a battle between angels and demons was draped. Atarah went upstairs, turned to the right wing, and said her goodbye’s to the woman. 

Her hand hovered over the glass screen on her bedroom door. She felt like someone was watching her from behind, someone standing close to her. She could feel their presence, and yet she couldn't smell anything. Atarah looked at the glass on the door, but it didn't show anyone’s reflection other than hers. 

Taking a deep breath, she placed her palm on the mirror, which turned green after a scan, and the door clicked open. Astara walked in quickly, jumping on her grand cushion by the window, while Atarah took off her clothes and went to bed naked, hoping to get some sleep after a very strange day. 

                                                       *************

It wasn't a goodnight at all. Atarah had tossed and turned from the nightmare, where apparently everyone walked in and out, like flashes of thunder in the clouds. She saw Dragomir stabbing her; the king dying on his throne, his eyes picked by crows, and Delroy drinking his tea in the Rose garden. Her hair was a tangled mess at this point. She groaned in her sleep, and Astara leaped on the bed, rubbing her nose on Atarah’s face. The girl waved away the wolf’s nose and whispered, “I,m up, my love”. Astara jumped down, but seeing that her master was again asleep, the wolf bumped the bed hard. It rocked, and Atarah got up with a squeak. “Stop that, Astara. I'm up.” The wolf didn't look guilty. She simply went to her cushion and sat there licking her paws. Suddenly someone knocked on the door, and Margeret entered the room, “your Majesty, there is a message from Delroy.” She bowed and left. Atarah looked at her desk where a cube was blinking red. 

Atarah got out of the bed and took her gown. “Answer.” She said in the air, looking out the window, where the day was too cruel to be good. The sun was shining from the gaps between the cloud, while the temperature was perfect for spring. He loved this kind of weather, she thought, thinking back to when the King used to stroll with her in the rose garden. A second later the box turned green, and Delroy’s face popped in the air as a hologram. Atarah snapped back to reality, “The council is meeting in half an hour. Be there on time.” His face disappeared, and the box turned to its original white color. 

Atarah looked at Astara and sighed. “Well, what can go wrong today?” 

The door of the council chamber was opened wide, a few seats were filled, and Delroy was sitting on the right hand of the king’s seat, which stood empty. After breakfast, Atarah walked in a casual shirt and jeans, her fingers in the pocket. “You said everyone is here.” she said looking at the empty seats. The minister of defense and the minister of commerce took the left side, while the right side was occupied by the minister of agriculture. She walked past them and took the seat of the King. “The other ministers seemed to have a bit of trouble regarding the succession matter.” Delroy answered while reading the papers. 

“Oh well, I can send the army to show their place.” She said, examining the manicure which was fading away. Delroy had to take off his reading glasses and clearly take in the princess. “We can't use force during this critical time, your highness. You need everyone’s vote.” 

“Not everyone will like me, anyway. What’s the point in being nice when the single thought of it makes me want to choke?” 

Someone fake coughed in the entrance, interrupting Delroy, who was about to say something back. Everyone looked up at the representative of the Elvi, a tall handsome gentleman, with long brown hair, which touched his knees, which was now tied in a braid. He had the magic of earth and he taught the young Elvi on how to produce crops, maintain the life balance of the plants and breathe life back on land. He was 205 years old and went by the name Bint. “i believe you are in the wrong seat, your highness.” His voice was calm, like someone who was simply stating a fact. 

 “I’m taking the crown, Bint. if you don't have a problem with that, unlike some people, please join us.” She said, stretching out her hand on the long table. 

He scanned the room once and then took his seat, next to the minister of agriculture, who awkwardly shifted his seat a little further from him. Elvi wasn't on the best terms with the kingdom. They had gained the trust of the King, but the previous monarchs had started a fight to eradicate their kind. A moment in the history of Sargas, which led to the creation of the Blood War. the war which took away her parents from her, while many corpses filled the streets. There is a legend in Sargas that a river, which runs through the forest of Delmi, still carries the blood remains from the war. The Elvi had magically preserved the fallen’s blood as a remembrance of their bravery. Atarah didn't realize she was staring at Bint, when the minister of agriculture waved his hand over her eyes. She straightened up, apologizing. 

“Right, I'm informed that we will be joined by some guests from across the border. Please welcome them politely as they come in peace.” Delroy stacked the papers in front of him and looked at Atarah while speaking. “Who is it?” she asked. He didn't need to respond, when the doors opened again and King Othello of Antares entered with his eldest son Arron. They had her full concentration now. 

“What brings you here?” Atarah was standing up, her hands on the table, fury in her eyes. The king simply bowed to the princess and glanced at his son to do the same. He hesitated and then bowed. “We are sorry for the loss of this kingdom and your uncle, your highness. The visit is purely out of respect for the king. We are here to attend his funeral.” He met eyes with Delroy who nodded. “I received their message yesterday, your highness. They wanted to pay their respect. Even though our kingdoms have been in conflict for years, i thought if both sides could lie down their weapons for just one day it wouldn't harm anyone.” Atarah wanted to punch the advisor in the face, but she resisted because his words made sense and she couldn't start rumors that the new queen to be is a lunatic. 

“I would like all messages directed to me first, Advisor Delroy.” she couldn't hide her hatred and rage from the king. The king and the prince took their seat on the far end of the table. Othello’s eyes taking in her every move. Delroy began speaking. 

“Let;s begin.” He cleared his throat. “The council has requested a week’s time for the mourning, while the preparation for the funeral has already begun. We will hold it tomorrow morning at 10 am, furthermore-” 

“A week’s time?” Atarah cut him off. “What is he? A member of the royal court?” 

“I-um we also have to start.” Delroy was surprised. He was stammering. 

“He is the God damn King of this kingdom. I order a month’s time of mourning during which no festival shall occur, neither the coronation. Am i clear?” Her words were strict, and she already sounded like a Queen. 

“I apologize, for your highness, but we do need the council’s approval on this. It’s not a battlefield.” He didn't complete his sentence. There were guests sitting, and he didn't want them to see her unending rage. 

“I’ll see the council. You sign on it.” She slammed her hand on the table, and the minister of commerce jumped in his seat, startled. 

King Othello kept a serious face during this conversation, where the chess pieces in his head kept moving and repositioning. The knight knocked off the pawn, and then the Queen gobbled him up. “The princess has fire,” he mumbled to his son, who furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.