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14. Death HAD knocked

14

Death HAD knocked

She rubbed her thumb over her index finger, with both hands. A nervous habit she doesn’t know she often does. She stared at the empty space in front of her, and the terror almost knocked her knees below her, but she held it in, walked the steps towards her wing, and almost, with gravity, fell on the floor in tears. The overwhelming sadness has caught up to her, but she’s held herself like a tight corset. Upright and stiff.

“Are you alright princess?” Feina asked her from behind.

She wanted to turn and look at Feina to reply, but she’s struggling to turn and look over at her. She’s ready to burst at the seams, but she didn’t want to be rude. She also didn’t want to unravel now.

“Did…the queen do anything to you?”

The mention of Ragna made her cold. The appropriate douse to her quivering and exploding veins. Slowly, she looked at Feina with a muscle memory. The polite smile. “No, she… was trying to save me.”

She didn’t lie, but she did omit a lot of things. That includes the fact of the queen and king left her to be massacred by their son. It’s not disappointment she’s feeling. She resume walking towards her palace even when Feina looked even more confused than before. She had questions of her own that must rifle through before she can calm down enough to tell a condensed version to her.

The long walk towards her palace almost made her fingers rough.

Feina opened her plain silver double doors for her. A feat only a Draconi could have done with how large and heavy those doors are. It’s no wonder her wing is filled with Draconi servants and a few human ones in the kitchen, with servant doors.

“Please get me tea” She said to Feina, inching close to her heels every step of the way till she’s only an arms stretch away from her. “I would something… light today.”

Feina curtsied. “Will do, your highness.”

Once the servant left, she sheds her heavy dress till she’s in her usual muslin powder blue dress tucked inside the heavy porcelain white dress of the lastest trend. She doesn’t need to look so ornate when she’s just going to work and go through her thoughts. She plopped down her office chair, with one sweeping gaze towards her newly decorated office.

The Crown Prince apparently insited on redecorating one of the rooms in the wing, and turning it to an office that would suit her. Everything was now accessible to her height, even the heavy gem door turned into an equally ornate and luxurious door, but lighter. She doesn’t know what has gotten into him. it was still confusing when he left one letter after the room’s decorating.

Think of me when you use it.

  • Death

Sileas wasn’t stupid. She knew he wanted to kill her, and he had every power and ability to do so. Apart from the Queen, no one would want her as a bride, especially not those high born proud houses that spoke of purity. To hell with fate, they would fight tooth and nail to keep their silver blood, much less a crown prince’s bride. But he spared her. Lotir saved her that night on her wedding, and now, she doesn’t like the thoughts in her head as to why he spared her.

She doesn’t understand the office that was made for her and her comfort. The four rooms were her whole world ever since her grandparents plucked her out of her simple life in the villa. The freedom she once adored was now a rising headache of tangling thoughts. A quagmire of decisions she has no idea on traversing.

A few days ago, it was simple. Help then people as much as she can and as long as she can, while she let the crown prince do what he wanted. Left him to be free, and even love who he wanted. She knows the odds of a fated pairing, and knows she’s not his fated mate, the gods weren’t known to give her any sort of break or simple luck.

“What now?” she whispered to herself. She held a pen on her hand, but has no idea what she wanted to write on the pristine blank paper. She had no idea, nor a clear thought. Her anxiety crippled her. “Nothing is making any sense.”

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