by Emily Albert
Her sore, wounded knuckles reminded her of trying to punch her way out of her anger. Her right hand was much worse now; in fact, it hurt so badly that she thought she might have broken it. When she pictured her brother cowering in his cell, it seemed to throb harder, like a punishment. There had been punches after punches, and she hadn’t been able to stop them. Her face burned. She tried to think of anything else but failed.
Instead, she kept pacing, wringing her sore hands. She knew she was spiraling tighter and tighter, but she also knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. All her rational thoughts were replaced by throbbing and buzzing. It caused a primal lack of control.
Everything around her was dreamlike. Even her racing heart and quick breaths felt as if they were not connected to her. Was she even real, or was she a jumble of unbridled movements and white noise? Lacking clear thoughts, vision, and feelings, it was hard to tell. She was anxiety, and she was anger.
She saw herself walk through the halls back to her bedroom, ignore the concerned guards, and slam the door shut behind her.
You’re better than this. Fight it. Break out. You did nothing wrong.
There was a pang somewhere deep in her chest as the voice somehow broke through her hazy mind.
Come on. You can do better. Once you accept the power, you’ll see.
She closed her eyes.
She wanted to trust that there was a way out, but looking for it inside herself was like wading through thick syrup in the dark, unsure of exactly what her goal was. Her breaths were still short and panicked. She thought she could at least change this, so she tried to steady her breathing. She took a few normal breaths before the erratic ones took over again. She tried this several times, but after only a couple minutes, it felt hopeless. Even though she could see herself moving, her energy was gone. She wondered how she did not collapse right there on the floor.
You have to stop now. Stop.
Even her guardian could not control her. Lenna strode around her room with lungs that felt like they might collapse. She rubbed her hands hard on her skin. A few times, she kicked her wall, and she observed the pain in her foot but did not truly feel it. It felt as if none of this would ever end.
It was only after her exhaustion caught up with her and her body had tired itself out that she slowed down. Her heart still pounded, and her chest shuddered with the effort of her breathing, but she was able to sit on her bed. Her hands fell down, grazing the soft blankets. Memories of being tucked in and pulling the covers to her chin grounded her. She reached for more of that feeling. She touched the sturdy pillar at the corner of her bed. It was smooth, polished, solid. It felt real. She kicked her boots and socks off and touched the floor with her feet. It, too, was stable and authentic. Her heart slowed and her chest rose and fell more evenly. She closed her eyes again and took two long, deep breaths.
Then she lay down across her bed, too tired to pull the covers down or bring her head to the pillows. She did not sleep, and her mind was devoid of thoughts.
Don’t let it happen again. You must have control.
Sixteen
Intense grief for her mother hit Lenna hard. She thought she had gotten past it, but it felt raw, like she was starting all over again.
If she was honest with herself, though, she wasn’t sure if this was actually grief or just her tiring, pent-up feelings. All her emotions poured out and she sat at her vanity, thinking about her mother with painful clarity. She looked in the mirror and wished she could see her mother, but she did not. They were so different.
It is a good thing. You are better, stronger.
She cursed her guardian quietly. “Can I have a moment to be sad for my mother?” she asked it.
You got over her once, you can do it again. She is useless to you now. You are so much better.
Lenna sighed. “It hurts again.”
Grief doesn’t pain you. Your struggle with power pains you. Your mother is nothing. Fix what really needs fixing.
Lenna thought of her episode from last night and felt exhausted just from imagining it. Her guardian was right. She shook off as much of her false grief as she could, but the terrifying, tiresome emotions lingered.
“I can only do so much right now,” she said into the air. “Everything hurts. Everything.”
There was a pregnant silence telling her that her guardian was disappointed. This only served to bring her mood down further.
Several days ago, Lenna had told Devon that she would meet with him today in the council room. Pushed down somewhere in the depths of her mind was the desire to talk to him about politics, but most of her wanted to do nothing. She was weighed down in front of her vanity mirror, and no matter how many times she told herself to get up, her stubborn body remained in the chair.
“No, I didn’t say this afternoon, I said tomorrow,” she could say to Devon, or “I’m sorry, I got caught up with something. I hope you’ll still be able to talk with me.”
Eventually, she gave up trying. She sat on her red velvet stool knowing that Devon would be waiting for her, wondering where she was. She didn’t care. Her mind became empty and detached. Several times, she forgot what she was upset about and only knew how incredibly dark and burdened she felt.
Her guardian’s silence was loaded. It insinuated insults of her weakness and laziness, reminded her of the importance of her goals, pushed her to get up and work.
After hours, it gave in, sounding desperate. She missed the absolute kindness it had once showed.
You cannot keep his kind of weakness. It is imperative that you remain strong. You must get up and keep going.
When her body became stiff from sitting in the same position all day, Lenna stood and stretched. She trudged to bed with a heavy body and a murky mind, pulled down the covers, and climbed in. She looked out the window, and it was barely dark. Regardless, she was buried in an impenetrable fatigue, and she lay motionless and numb until she fell asleep.
○○○
The next morning, Lenna went directly outside onto her balcony. She did not feel like facing anyone who was going to try to talk to her about her mother or give her pity. She wanted to be alone to think.
Gazing out at the kingdom, she let her mind wander. It was hers—or would be—but she hadn’t realized that working for it would hurt this much. She rolled the pain around in her mind, trying to digest it and figure out how she would brush it off. Would it always hurt. She asked her guardian that.
You will feel better. You need only work at it. Practice. You will need to be strong. Sometime soon, it will be easy, and feel more wonderful than you can imagine.
Lenna took a breath, putting all her faith in those words. They seemed to lift some of the pain. “Okay,” she said. “I’m all right. I can do it.”
A satisfied hum ran through her head.
Lenna went back inside, and just as she did, her door opened. Kendra walked in ahead of the guards despite their efforts to stop her. She gave them an annoyed look and walked straight to her.
“I thought I’d check up on you. How are you doing?” Kendra held a sympathetic look.
Lenna waved the guards away.
“I’m fine,” Lenna said, and she almost meant it. She lifted her chin up and forced her face to brighten, which wasn’t so hard anymore. But it was too late.
Kendra eyed her skeptically. “Your mother?”
That was an easier story to tell. She nodded. “But I am okay. It’s getting easier.”
Kendra’s eyes softened. “It gets bad, then a little better, huh? It takes time for death to fully sink in, but then it takes more time for it to go away. It’ll keep getting better, just hang in there.”
“I know I’ll be able to manage now I’ll be okay.” She thought little of her mother, only her own struggles.
Kendra nodded with a small smile. “When Mason passed, I kept going to his crib to hold him or feed him, but he was never there. His blankets and toys were all where I had left them, but he was gone, every tim
e. I thought I was going mad, because no matter how many times I saw his crib and was reminded of the truth, it didn’t feel real. Eventually, it hit me. When I looked at the crib, I didn’t dare go near it. I looked at it, and I only felt devastated. It got worse and worse… It kept getter harder… until it wasn’t so hard anymore. Praise the gods for that.”
She rubbed Lenna’s back.
You have me, and I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” Kendra pulled her into a hug, and Lenna relaxed into it. “Someday after all this passes, it will feel far away, and much easier to handle.”
Lenna pulled away and smiled at her, more to comfort Kendra than herself. “Thanks, Kendra.”
Her comforting presence and voice were appreciated, but Kendra would never understand what her true worries were. Lenna’s mind was elsewhere, on the feeling of power her guardian made her crave once more.
Seventeen
At the start of an open meeting, townspeople gathered in front of Lenna as she sat in the throne room. Her attention was torn between them and her mother’s old throne, which no longer triggered painful memories. She still sat in the king’s throne, itching to move to the queen’s, but she knew sitting there would seem disrespectful. It wouldn’t feel right to anyone besides herself, as everyone still thought of Fay as the Queen. It was no matter—Lenna was sure it would soon be hers.
Despite her confidence, Lenna’s pride slipped and she could see her mother there on the throne with her serene eyes and genuine smile. There was a pang in her chest, but the memory only stayed for an instant before she reminded herself what her mother’s death brought her.
A tap on Lenna’s shoulder pulled her out of her head. Devon and Vince Alton stood behind her on either side of the throne, eyebrows raised as if they were unsure of where she had gone.
Lenna resented Vince for being inserted into the role that should have been hers. She had, however, accepted Devon as her closest advisor. Aside from having hope that she could use him, she didn’t mind his company. She surprised herself by how much she had grown to trust him in their last few meetings. He was unconditionally kind to her and tried his hardest to humor her theoretical scenarios of what she would do as queen.
As Lenna came down from her high and back to reality, she saw the misery in the dismal room. The space that had once been filled with Fay’s pleasant energy was chilled and darkened. Though the sun shone brightly through the skylights, it was not enough to fill in the bleak emptiness. It didn’t match her cheerful eagerness.
She decided to ignore the despair of the group in front of her, hoping her energy would rub off on them. They had to see that she would be the perfect queen. She chose one woman at random and motioned for her to approach. The way Lenna called her with no hint of distress surprised everyone. She went through a majority of the people, trying to mimic the way her mother had given vague yet comforting answers that satisfied everyone.
As Lenna was about to call up the next person, someone in the corner caught her eye. He leaned against the wall, looking coolly up at her. He was dressed like a royal, but maybe a royal from another country. He wore black billowy pants that cinched at the heels, a light gray tunic, and a deep red embellished cloak with white fur along the neck. There was a crest on the cloak, but Lenna couldn’t make it out. His brown leather boots looked polished, his black hair thick and sleek. The man had two foreign guards standing on either side of him, looking at Lenna with the same calmly appraising stare. Lenna was surprised she hadn’t noticed him.
Before she said or did anything, he began to walk toward her as if he had been summoned by her glance alone. His guards flanked him. Like his appearance, his walk was royal—he took his time, moving each leg smoothly and gracefully. His muscular body did nothing to stop his elegance. Though the man’s gait could have appeared pompous, Lenna saw a sincere regality in it that was bred, not put on for show. She guessed that he was a prince, but she was not sure from what country.
At a respectful distance from her, he bowed and looked at her with steady, confident eyes. “Permission to speak?” Lenna couldn’t place his accent; it was harsh but striking, bold with hard consonants. This was obviously not his first language.
She gestured for him to continue.
“Wonderful. Hello, your Highness. It is an honor to be standing in front of you.”
The dramatic way he said it amused Lenna. “Will you tell me who you are and where you’re from?”
He grinned. “My name is Prince Marco Cazares of Elawar.”
Lenna nodded thoughtfully. She knew his crest now: a serpent. “I have come to give you my condolences for your mother. I understand she was greatly loved, and I have heard many wonderful stories about her and her rule.”
He waited for Lenna’s response; there was none.
He kept going without missing a beat. “But I am also here for another reason. I have come here because I have heard stories about you, as well, your Highness. I have heard how you helped you mother rule, almost as her equal. I have heard about your initiative, your confidence, your control. I find all this very admirable in a ruler, and I was wondering if we would make a good team. If we could help each other—each other’s countries.”
“How do you mean?”
Marco flashed her a big smile that showed his shiny white teeth, a twinkle in his eye. “You’d look awfully good sitting on that queen’s throne, don’t you think? Your rightful throne?”
Lenna’s heart beat faster. She perked up, staring at him more intently than she had before. She knew Vince and Devon were giving her curious looks. What was he getting at?
“What I mean is, I am here today to ask you if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife, so that we may rule together.”
She let out a disappointed breath and broke eye contact. She saw his power, saw the way he carried himself and his potential for greatness. He would overtake her, and she couldn’t have that.
You need him. He will bring you to the top. Then, you will continue the bloodline of greatness. Say yes.
She heard her guardian, took in its words. But it wasn’t enough. She would climb to the top before she let anyone share the spotlight with her. She could become Queen without the help of a husband. He would only bring her down.
“Do you fully understand what you have just said to me, Prince Marco?” His bright expression turned into a blank stare, but quickly recovered. “You said to me that you admire the control I have and how I run the kingdom, acknowledged that I should have the power to rule Haeden, then immediately asked for permission to take away most of that control and power. You do know that marriage requires the sharing of power, no? Do you know how absurd that proposition sounds?”
Foolish, stupid girl! You need him!
The remaining crowd grew silent, all watching Lenna’s brashness toward a foreign royal in shock.
Marco didn’t seem to mind the curious eyes. “Your Highness, I meant no offense. I was not implying in any way that I would take your power or control. I was saying that as partners, we could work together and make both of our countries better, more peaceful, more successful. I see something in you that makes you a terrific ruler, and I would love more than anything to see that firsthand and learn from you. I would never try to take away your best qualities.”
It will be okay. Do you trust me? You have to do it. Turning him away is unwise.
Lenna eyed him suspiciously but did not say anything.
“I will give you time to consider this, of course, but I would implore you to think hard about it. I believe this would be a positive change for both of us.”
He bowed and began to leave, but Lenna stopped him. “Did I dismiss you, your Highness?”
He turned around and interlaced his hands in front of him, hope hidden in his face.
She did trust her guardian. But it was the one teaching her to take all the power for herself, and what it said now contradicted its previous advisement.
“I won’t mislead you; there is no nee
d for me to consider it. I cannot marry you. I will not give you the false hope that would come from me prolonging this. I cannot give up any of my country. I cannot jeopardize the fate of it by inviting in different thoughts, opinions, and decisions.”
You are throwing it all away, you fool! You could have everything, you could have the whole world, and you are throwing away your chance! Worthless girl! Coward!
Lenna flinched, and Marco ignored it. Devon didn’t, as he stepped forward, seeming to have the instinct to help her. Lenna motioned for him to step back.
Marco opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind and bowed once more. “No,” Lenna said, “say what you must.”
“I mean no offense by saying this, but I believe that by marrying me, you would not be putting your country in danger. In fact, you would be doing quite the opposite. You are alone now. You need someone. I only see benefits to a marriage: someone to protect you in the face of danger, someone to collaborate with, someone to share the responsibility with. There is safety, support, and companionship in a spouse. I believe that I could be a good source of all those things. All I am asking is for you to think about it. It could turn out that having a partner is not as bad as you might think.”
Lenna paused for a long moment, and Marco waited patiently. The love of her guardian flashed before her, but so did the loss of power.
I only want the best for you. Trust me.
The debates they would have, the way he would tell her what to do, the amount of respect he would command—she saw all of it.
“I am already certain of my decision. Nevertheless, I will think it over to amuse you. Thank you for the kind proposal.”
When Lenna said nothing else, Vince spoke up: “Ah—Prince Marco, we would be delighted to have you stay here in the castle until a final decision is reached. We will have someone take your horses to the stable and we will provide you all with rooms. I’m sure you would like to bathe and unwind.”