The midday sun pours in through the windows of the hallways, casting light across the floor. Fine red carpets cover the cold stone floor, and you almost feel bad tracking mud on them.
You still remember these halls. They've hardly changed. You round another corner, the layout of the palace still memorized.
It's been months since you were last here, and years since you were last welcome.
You pass two doors on the right before coming to a stop in front of the third. It's the door to the royal chambers.
When the king is home, it's heavily protected. Today, however, with the king absent, it is mercifully unguarded. There's no point in wasting men protecting the monarch's aged wife, after all.
With a deep breath, you knock. You hear shuffling, and seconds later, the door swings open.
You stand before the Queen Consort of Kanton, who was your mother for only seven years. The one who dishonored and disinherited you.
Her dark-blond hair, the color a reflection of your own, is pulled back in a loose ponytail. Sharp amber eyes complement the angular features of her face and her dark-brown skin. She has what many of your comrades would call "noble skin." Skin that is soft and undamaged. Skin that has never stood under the blazing heat of the sun, nor seen the blades of enemies.
She's wearing a fine blue dress that practically drags across the floor, with numerous jewels dotted across her person. As you take in her clothing…
You've never been one for fashion.
Especially after The War.
Despite your thoughts, your reaction remains hidden behind an unflinching, stoic mask.
A mask you've had much practice upholding.
When Mira sees you, her face goes from annoyance to shock. With one hand raised to her chin, she calls your name questioningly…
"Arthur Hornraven?" Mira asks, the surprise evident in her voice, which is a sweet soprano, oddly soothing. However, you know that this voice is misleading.
Voice of angels, actions of devils, you note as you subconsciously rub your ring fingers' stumps.
Her expression hardens when she sees you indulging in your habit. You stop and address her…
I'm not your mother," she jabs back, venom in her voice.
I know, you think, but your face remains expressionless.
"Apologies, Your Highness." Her expression softens.
Mira sighs, then asks, "What are you doing here, Arthur Hornraven?"
You take a deep breath and answer…
Almost immediately, her face drops. You watch as she attempts to recompose herself with shaky, ragged breaths. After half a minute, she looks you in the eye, and with an accusatory tone, cries, "You speak lies!"
Your face remains impassive. "My condolences."
Mira's face contorts with agony once again. This strikes you as odd. You never thought they were truly close, as they married for purely political reasons. You don't bring it up.
In the same accusatory tone, she cries with her finger outstretched, "You don't care! You never care! I… don't want your… vile false condolences… you…"
She swallows hard and opens her mouth to continue, but all that comes out is a sob. She doubles over, tears rolling down her face. You give her another moment to recompose and then say, "We need to inform the twins of the situation. Belos, as per King Sobik's decree, is set to inherit the entirety of Kanton. We must also inform Princess Elya—"
Mira cuts you off. "No! I will not inform Elya. She has an important banquet and… feast tomorrow. She cannot be a… weeping mess."
"Is this wise?"
"You dare question me, bastard! You are not to approach Elya! You are not to speak to her!" she shouts before choking on another sob. Despite her sudden outburst, you continue to stand there, unflinching.
"Your Majesty, I have reasonable suspicion that Duke Rade of House Mozoroff may be behind the assassination, and may also be plotting to contest the throne. One of my contacts in his own Reicster province stated—"
Once again, Mira shouts. "I don't want your advice, bastard! I want… you…" She's unable to finish her statement as she doubles over into another coughing fit.
"Then you must at least inform the twins of the danger. War may be upon us."
"You lie!" she screams, using you as the target for her rage and grief. "You always lie! You're a—"
You mentally blot out her tirade of insults as you step back and gently shut the door. Her pained cries and sobs can be heard through it. You release a breath that you didn't even realize you were holding.
With a drawn-out sigh, you turn on your heels and set back down the winding hallways of the royal palace.
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