Our security and strength, in the last analysis, directly depend on the security and strength of others ~ John F. Kennedy
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"Second prince is declared as the regent," Lord Cedric solemnly proclaimed.
"I know... I want my husband buried," Queen Liora replied, her voice carrying both sorrow and determination.
"But..." Lord Cedric hesitated, sensing there was more to the queen's intent.
"I have another plan," the queen declared, her thoughts already reaching towards the complexities of her strategy, "What is your plan, Your Majesty?" Lord Cedric inquired.
"Locate the king's missing physician as fast as you could, and the seventh prince will be compelled to confess. He's young and easily influenced. Coordinate this with the general and the Minister of Crimes. I desire a dignified funeral for my husband," she declared, concealing her tears while gently cradling her belly, her only source of solace on this sorrowful journey.
In the sanctity of her private chambers, where shadows whispered secrets and the air held the weight of intrigue, the second prince made an unexpected appearance, his demeanor inscrutable.
"My queen," he greeted with a deceptive smile.
"What are you doing in my chamber?" she inquired, her gaze fixated on the castle skyline as if seeking solace in the familiar view.
"You know why I am here," he retorted, a veiled undertone threading his words.
"You are the regent, did you mean to disrespect the queen?" she questioned, her eyes narrowing as she turned to face him directly. "Don't move any distance... I don't possess what you seek. My husband did not reveal its location."
"I know..." he replied, subtly shifting his attention to a golden cup beside the bed.
"You know where the treasure is. Cooperate, become my wife, and you'll be my queen. Refuse, and I have my allies by my side. Remember, you are a foreigner," he threatened, trying to manipulate her into submission. "I am not a foreigner; this is my country. Don't even dream of making me your woman. Leave my room... go," she commanded, her voice unwavering, masking the turmoil within her.
He departed, leaving the queen to grapple with the tangled web of deception and the weight of her choices. "When a big mountain falls, the smaller mountain begins to believe it's great. Not your fault," she whispered to herself, tears silently tracing their path down her cheeks.