Twenty-six

Erin's rushed steps reduced to sauntering when she approached some maids, and a train of, "Good evening, my lady," followed each other, which she responded with a small smile.

Once she was away from them, she increased her pace, taking the right turn that led to the twin staircase. Various paintings of generations of kings hung on the wall.

An empty spot beside her father's painting caught her attention, and she stood in front of it, reaching a hand to feel the smoothness of the wall which was coated in navy blue paint. Someday, when she is crowned as Queen, her painting would be occupy that space.

Her heart was constricted in her chest, and her breath caught up in her throat when she thought about all the responsibilities that came with ascending the throne as Queen. Her stomach churned, and she recoiled, pulling her hand back and holding it to her chest.

"Why does it feel like the weight of the world will be on my shoulders when I turn Queen?" Erin asked herself, rubbing her shou