The Price of Magic by Amanda Leigh

WE'RE BACK!! 

AGAIN. 

Yes, we have taken long breaks. We have had our ups and downs. But we keep coming back. And that is what's important. For me personally, it has been a rough year. I don't share a lot of my private life. I just don't. But, I was sick a lot in the beginning of the year. And my father passed away. So, I won't go into much more detail, but it's been a year. Well, only about six months actually. Anyway, here I am. With the last response to that prompt we posted the first story to back at the very start of January. And my first story in the blog in almost exactly a year. It's good to be back. :)  

We hope you enjoy. Please feel free to comment!! <3 This is another linger one. Here is the prompt again to refresh your memories: "To write a story where a good person does something bad or villainous."

The Price of Magic by Amanda Leigh

People want the world to be straightforward. Black and white, right and wrong, heroes and villains. But it is not that simple. It never has been. Even when people desperately want it to be. Someone bad is almost never only bad, and someone good is almost never only good. And sometimes, it depends who you ask. If you want a story with clear heroes and villains, move on, because this is not that story. There are no heroes and villains here. We are all both. And we are all to blame.  

***

Princess Tara

Lana’s giggles fill my ears as I stand behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, and pepper soft kisses to her neck.

“My princess, we are out in the open for anyone to see.”s

I let my hands drift to hold onto her waist and place a kiss to her cheek, then allow my lips to move to her ear. “Yes, and what is your point, my dear Lana?”

She shifts her weight onto her good leg. “Only that someone may see us, my princess.”

“Lana, how many times must I ask you to address me as Tara?”

Rose red blush creeps up her neck and over her smooth cheeks. “That is one thing when we are alone, my princess, but in public it is not appropriate for me, a commoner, to address you by your given name.”

My lips pull down into a frown. “My mother may require this, but I do not hold with such nonsense. You are my partner, and as such can call me by my given name. Besides the fact that you, my love, are far, far from common.”

Lana makes to turn in my arms and I grasp her upper arms to help her turn. She shuffles and shimmies her way with my help until we are standing face to face. “Also, it is not as if no one knows about us.”

“No, Tara,” she emphasizes my real first name and I beam at her. “I suppose that is true. Though whether they approve or not is another question entirely.”

“I suppose it is. The real question, though,” I pause dramatically, “…is do we care?”

Lana reaches up and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear as that mischievous smile I love so much splits her lips. “No, Tara, no, we certainly do not.”

Leaning closer, my lips touch hers as I whisper, “That is right. We don’t.” The space between our lips vanishes as we both lean in, the brilliant red sunset illuminating us both.

Laurence the Cook

My fingers shake around the little bottle of potion in my hand. One of the last bits of magic still in this realm. Stolen from our neighboring kingdom, the one now upon our borders. My chest is tight and I watch my daughter and the princess. I know Lana loves her. I think I even believe that the princess loves my Lana, I think as I watch them on the large marble balcony, the sunset pouring down upon them.

My eyes wander down to Lana’s left leg, her crippled leg. The one I found out years ago was never supposed to be hers. A handicap she was born with, but was not meant for her. Instead meant for the princess now helping her stand. The deformity transferred upon her by the queen when Lana wasn’t even born yet. Nor was the princess. The queen cavorting with a sorcerer to burden my daughter with this so hers would not have to bear it.

I spent years working my way into this castle. Not only to take my revenge on the queen but to return things to the way they were always supposed to be. Red tinged sunlight cuts across my vision for a moment as I gaze at the couple. When I did come here, I never could have imagined my daughter would fall in love with the woman who was meant to carry her burden. I gulp, guilt niggling my chest like needles. But I cannot let that stop me, I won’t.

I have to do this.

Sucking in a deep breath, I step out from behind the marble pillar I hid behind. I do not hide my steps, I want them to hear me, to think that nothing is wrong.  Why would they? I’ve given them no reason to; visits from me are a regular occurrence. This thought twists my stomach in knots for a moment.

“Father, hello!” Lana greets me with a radiant smile, peeking out from the arms of her princess.

“Hello, my darling.” I return the smile, force my voice into normalcy. Ensure I do not let on what I am really about to do. “Princess.” I nod to her, my smile still in place. The princess and I have always been on friendly terms, and after she started dating my daughter, even more so. There was a brief period of tension between us. Not because I disapproved of their relationship, but because I knew what I must do. But our princess was so kind to me that it was near impossible for this tension to last.

“Laurence,” says the princess, “…how many times must I ask you to call me Tara? We have known each other too long for such formalities. Nor are we in a public forum. You are free, encouraged in fact, to call me Tara.”

The knot in my stomach coils, tightens. Guilt burrowing into my chest. It would be better if the princess were awful. Or even haughty, like her mother. It would make what I am about to do so much easier.

You mean betray her?, I think.

“Of course, Tara. Thank you,” I say with a nod.

She beams and turns back to my daughter. They giggle together.

I shut my eyes briefly. Yes, I am about to betray the princess. To betray the queen is one thing. I have no guilt over this, not in the slightest. It is her who bestowed this burden upon my daughter. The princess, though, did not do anything wrong. She is simply caught in the crosshairs and the selfishness of her mother. To betray her does give me some uncomfortable stirring in my stomach. This is rather quickly passed over, though.

The worst of all, is I will betray my own daughter. The one I am doing all of this for in the first place. The reason I worked my way into his palace as a cook, the reason I stole magic from our neighboring kingdom, the reason I brought their wrath upon our kingdom. When we came here, I never bargained on her and the Princess falling in love. This is the betrayal that gives me the most pause, makes the knots and coils in my stomach tauten to near breaking point. But, I remind myself, this is all for her. To ger her back the life she was supposed to have. The life she deserves. I am merely doing what is best for my daughter, as I have always done.

“Father?”

I blink a few times and look back to Lana. “Yes, Lana?”

She smiles. “Where was your head, Father? You did not seem to be with us there for a minute.” She looks up at her love.

“Indeed,” says the princess. “He did appear to be a million miles away from us.”

I chuckle softly. “Apologies, my ladies, I suppose I have many things on my mind.”

They both smile sweetly at me, then Lana turns in the Princess’s arms. The Princess holds onto her waist as she does, giving her the balance she cannot achieve alone. Lana points out a flying star over us up in the blood red sky, and they watch its progress. While they are distracted, I reach into my pocket and extract the tiny bottle of magic dust. I cup it in my palm, and frown down at it.

“Father?”

My head jerks up to look at Lana as my fist closes around the vial in my palm. I smile at her, and then a buzzing seems to fill my ears, blocking out her next words. Because I need to, because if I hear them, I feel I will never do this. And I can’t let anything stop me.

“Laurence?” The Princess’s voice comes through the buzzing in my ears as a garbled sound. I lift my hand to shoulder height. The girl’s eyebrows draw down over their eyes, confusion etched into lines on their face. They are too slow, too confused to stop me, as I toss the vial at the Princess’s feet.

It explodes as it shatters to the ground, a cloud of dull bronze dust bursting and spinning around us. I’m pushed out of the cloud, my feet moving backward of their own accord, as the Princess and my daughter are forced to stay encased inside it.

The dust rises up around them as I hear footfalls behind me.

“Laurence!” the queen’s voice shouts just feet behind me. “Laurence, what have you done?”

“Father!” Lana yells from inside the cloud of dust.

“Laurence, please, what is happening?” Now the princess’s voice is heard from inside the dome.

“Laurence,” says the queen. I hear her feet slide along the marble floor as she stumbles to a halt bedside me. “Laurence, Laurence, please, what are you doing? What is the meaning of this?”

Any guilt I felt for doing this to the princess vanished as I let the queen’s voice wash over me. Replaced with a cold fury. Like ice being poured into my heart. I feel it run through my veins as I turn my head to our queen, our savior, her majesty Celeste. 

“The meaning of this, Your Majesty?” My voice is not my own, I cannot recognize it. It bites with the sharpness of the ice that has filled my insides. My eyes ensnare hers, refuse to look away as chaos reigns behind me. “What was the meaning of it when you crippled my daughter to save your own from this burden?”

Her hazel eyes widen, blinking rapidly as she stumbles away from me.

“Mother?” the princess shouts.

“You never told your daughter, did you?” My voice has to rise over the noise behind me. “No, of course not, why would you? You wouldn’t want her to know the monster her mother really is, would you?”

“Mother?” our princess questions again.

“Go ahead, tell her, your majesty,” I say her title with the sharp cut of sarcasm lacing it. She says nothing, simply stands and stares.

“Laurence, please, please do not do this, my daughter did nothing to you, nothing to your daughter.”

“I know this, Celeste,” I refuse to use her title this time. “It was you who did, yet it is your daughter who must pay the price.”

“Mother!”

I turn towards Tara. “Since she will not tell you, allow me, princess. When you were in your mother’s womb, she went to a powerful wielder of magic, who told her you would be born a cripple. But he was able to fix that, wasn’t he?”

The queen’s bottom lip quivers. “How do you know this?” she says in a near whisper.

“Oh, the sorcerer told me years after Lana was born and her mother passed away.”

“Why…why would he do that?”

“Cruelty? Amusement? Who knows? It matters not, not to me. All that matters is that I was able to find a way to restore my daughter to what she should have been before you took that way from her.”    

The princess falls to the floor in a heap of expensive silks and fabrics. Her legs too weak to hold her up now.

“No! No!” My daughter shouts as she falls to her knees beside her princess. “Father, what have you done?”

My voice is steady as I answer. “I saved you.”

For the first time in her entire life, she gets to her feet without any issue, no sign of imbalance or struggle and I feel triumphant. I did what I said I would do all those years ago. My daughter is no longer an invalid. She can stand with no trouble and she walks a step toward him. All on her own. Her princess does not need to hold her steady as she does.

But her eyes blaze with fire. Fire I have never seen in them before.

“Saved me?” she whispers, and it sounds like the hiss of a snake. Soft, yet deadly. Like she is coiled and ready to strike. I have never heard this from her before. I had not known her capable of it. And if she was, it had never been directed at me. Until now.

“You think I needed saving? From what?”

“From your-”

“My what?” she cut me off, and the queen ran to her daughter, took her hand, and she sat up as they both stared at my little girl taking another step near him. I stumbled back, fumbling over my words.

“Your, your…” I can’t seem to find my words, nothing comes out. “Your affliction,” I finally settle on, and she comes to a full stop, blazing eyes pinning me to the spot.

“You think I needed saving from that?” She emphasizes the word, and her voice is soft, sad, almost pitying.

I am struck dumb as I nod.

She shakes her head, her throat bobbing up and down around a swallow. “You always did…” she begins, a tremble in her voice. “You always did think it was something I needed saving from. Something to be…to be fixed.” Her voice breaks. “I was…I was never enough for you as I was, was I, father?”

“What…what are you saying, love?” I find my voice again. “Of course, you are…and you were, of course you were. Always.”

She shakes her head, tears silently streaking her cheeks. “You always wanted to fix me. You would never accept me as I was. You were so desperate to fix me that you took to dark magic and bestowing it on someone else-”

“It was meant to be hers!” I am shouting now. “This burden was always meant to be the princess’; it was never meant to be yours!” I step forward now, closing the distance between us. “The queen made a vile deal, and you were crippled instead. It was your life that was forever changed, ruined, you would never be…”

“Never be?” Her voice is hysterical for a moment, and then it settles into a softer cadence, which may be more threatening than her hysterics. “Is this why you did this? Because I would never be what you wanted me to? A strong, able-bodied woman. You could never see passed my impairment.”

“This is untrue,” I say.

“I wish it were.”

“I did this because you are my daughter, and you were suffering. The queen did a terrible thing in passing his burden onto you. She had no right- “

“And what gives you the right in return to pass this along to her daughter? Our princess? My love?” Her voice cracks again at the last word.

“Nothing,” I whisper. “Except protecting my daughter.”

“I think you may truly believe that,” she says to me. “I do not know. You were not protecting me; you were trying to fix me. Even so…”

“I did this to protect you,” I repeat.

“And the queen did her deed for the same reason in her mind, I am sure.”

Both of our gazes flick to the queen and the princess. The queen’s eyes are full of tears and she hangs her head in shame.

My eyes lock on my daughter, and as she turns back to me, she says, “You are no better, no more righteous than her father. Do not pretend that you are.”

My breath feels knocked from my lungs as the force of her words hit me like a physical blow.

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out this time. I have no other argument, no other justification, besides protecting my daughter. And that is not enough for her, she does not see it this way.

“Leave us,” she says; no, commands. Her voice strong and steady. “Now.” The word is nearly a yell, but not quite, and I gulp as I back away. It drags down my throat painfully, a lump that won’t quite go down.

My daughter has never looked at me like this before. With that fire in her eyes, with rage, and like she doesn’t know me at all. I’m not sure I can take it.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I back out of the room.

She doesn’t answer, hardly spares me a glance, and I wonder if she heard me at all. Deep down, I know that she did.

As I back away, I keeps my sights on Lana for as long as I can, until I round the corner and she disappears from my view. She and the queen are sitting with the princess on the polished marble floor. The girl looks in shock. And I begin to wonder if I did the right thing. If I went too far, if I did the wrong thing. And most of all, if my daughter is right. I told her I did this to protect her, but did she need protection? Was this protection at all? Worst of all: did I do this fix her? Was she right; that subconsciously she was never enough for me? That I felt something was wrong with her? I suddenly feel sick and stumble over my own feet.

I wind up on the palace balcony, still stumbling backwards. Finally, I turn and sprint to the edge, place my palms on the sturdy marble railing. I breathe in big gulps of the fresh air. Cold and brisk, almost searing as it filters into my lungs. But I need it; need it to ground me, center me. I lean over the side and wretch, but nothing comes out. That is when I hear the footfalls of boots. I knew it would happen. I had a plan for it, but my daughter’s words, the realization, they threw me off, and here I am. The palace guards are coming for me.  

Lana

My hands shake as I kneel beside the queen, and the princess. My girlfriend, my lover, the love of my life. I feel different than I ever have, though. Though my hands are shaking, my legs are not shaking as I crouch down beside the princess and queen. Something I could scarcely do before this, before my father inflicted this fate on my love. A fate he had no more right to inflict upon than the queen did upon me. Upon us. And a spike of guilt surges through me because this feels good. I like this. I like not having to think about every move I will make so carefully. To just be able to crouch and not worry about toppling over, worry about something breaking because if my delicate bones. Not to have someone help me just squat down to the ground. I learned to accept it, to accept that I was different, but shame was still present sometimes. Shame, embarrassment, frustration. And now I can just do it on my own. It is a freedom I have never felt before. And I like it.

I was always so envious of the way others just did things. Without a second thought, could simply sit on the ground, without even having hold on to anything or anyone to get there. It was every day, mundane, to them, paling in compassion to the magic this world hides; but it was magic to me. There were plenty of times I felt envious of Tara, as well, and I always hated that. But this time, the positions are switched. I like the newfound freedom, and it near sickens me, but I do not like this. Seeing the woman I love crumpled on the floor, unable to get up on her own as she used to do with no second thought. She looks helpless. I wonder if I ever looked like that. I hope not. Did I ever look like to that to her? Did she ever see me as helpless? I pray that she didn’t. That would be worse than the disability itself, to be seen as helpless. I always hated that. And I know I look at her and think it, and sickness rushes through me again quickly.

When her eyes meet mine, tears burn at the edges of my vision, and unable to help it, I let them spill over.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, my voice near grief stricken. “I am so sorry. He had no right to do this. I am so sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault, my love,” she says and reaches for my hand. I let her take it, and she clutches it tightly. What she says may be true, but I still feel responsible, and no words seem enough. No words ever could.

"How could he do this?" I whisper to nobody in particular, though the queen and princess hear me quite clearly.

“I don't know,” my princess says. “Perhaps the same way that my mother did it to you and your father, I would assume." She looks up at her mother whose cheeks have gone pale, but her cheeks begin to redden at her daughter's words. Undeniably accusatory.

“I'm sorry," she says in a whisper. No, more than a whisper. In a small voice. Such a small, defeated voice. I've never heard our queen sound so small before. It startles me, and despite what she did to me and my father I cannot help but feel bad for her in that moment. I feel sorry for her, and I feel sympathy for her, despite what she did. I know very well that it was not right. Just as what my father did was not right. Of course, her reasons were much the same as his, but it is hard to say in that moment who I have more or less sympathy towards.

No, it is not. In that very second it is my own father. I suspect it's because of the way I feel he's looked at me my whole life, and that I feel that is part of the reason for what he did. Knowing he looked at me in such a way and never accepted me does make it slightly harder to be sympathetic towards his plight.

The queen reaches out for her princess, for my princess, tries to touch her hand, but just as her fingers brush against her skin, she yanks her hand away. Her mother sucks in a gulp of air that sounds almost like a sob, and I feel a wave of pity wash over me. For her, for my princess, even for myself. Despite the fact that I am now able to walk on my own, something I have never done before, I feel a little stab of pity. For the way my father looked at me, thinking that he had to do this to make me worthy. That I was not worthy enough on my own. Tara never looked at me that way. She accepted me for me, and never let my inabilities define me.

My body seems frozen as I watch the scene unfold, part of me believing that I have passed out, fallen sleep looking at the view here, then I will wake up from this back in my princess’s arms, gazing out over the balcony, and everything will be as it was. Everything will be normal, despite our situation being anything but. But I was our normal, and I miss it already.

Again, the queen reaches out for her daughter. “Please, let me help you,” she said, nearly begs, the tone of pleading in her voice clear. But again, Tara pulls away from her.

She shakes her head slowly back and forth. “No,” she says, her voice perhaps firmer than I have ever heard it.

Our queen lowers her head to the floor, a display of shame I have never seen from her. Instead, I walk over to my love and kneel down. “Let me help,” I say, and she nods, accepting my outstretched hand. Queen Celeste does not argue, nor does her head tilt up, but I can catch sight of her gaze turned up to us, can feel her watching as I help her daughter to her feet. I loop my arm around Tara’s waist, this time I am holding her up, and it feels foreign. But what feels perhaps even more strange is for the queen to still be on the floor, her gown spread out around her, and us towering above her. A display of subservience I would not have thought the queen capable of.

She says nothing. Simply rises to her feet – as gracefully as she can manage, although she trembles a bit as she stands – and walks back into the palace, leaving us alone on the balcony.

Tara holds onto my arm tighter, then glances at me from the corner of her eye before looking away again. I can’t take my gaze off of her. “You think I shouldn’t have let her walk away.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I can hear you thinking it,” she says, a slight grumbling in her tone.

My soft chuckle does not seem like it fits our current situation, but I could not hold it in.

“Well, you do know me quite well.”

“So?” she prompts. “Is that what you were thinking?”

I frown. “It is not that simple,” I say finally. “I know why you let her walk away. I let my father walk away, too. It was a betrayal. To both of us. That is not easily forgiven in a matter of minutes.”

“No,” my princess agrees. “It is not.”

Princess Tara

No, I think. This is not easily forgiven in a matter of minutes. Or days, weeks. Perhaps months, or even years. Ever? The question flies bitterly into my mind and my lips pull down into a scowl. I don’t want to think it, don’t want to be thinking like this at all, she is my mother, after all. She raised me, loved me, guided me. Even after father was gone. And she has done so much. Taken on not only the responsibility of raising me, but also of taking charge of, running, and   caring for this kingdom all on her own.  She never remarried, never took on a husband from a neighboring kingdom. A prince or baronet or maybe a duke, to rule beside her. She was expected to. Everyone waited for years, thinking that perhaps this was the year she would. Many suitors of various nobility and title traveled to the kingdom for nearly a decade, hoping to be the one to earn her hand in marriage.

She said no to every single one of them.

Never once did she ever consider accepting a proposal. My father was her love. They had married for love, not convenience or royal politics, which was rare at the time. And Mother was not about to change that after Father had died in the war.

I hoped to live by her example, to marry for love. Despite my love being far more controversial than hers, and not being certain that our kingdom would be so accepting of two queens.

My cheeks flame at the thought as I dart a glance over to Lana. My princess. She may not be a princess by birth, certainly not royalty by birth, but I have considered her my princess since before even we started this beautiful love affair. She is my one. My person. I know this. I knew this already, but by the way she holds me up right now, I know it more than ever, so deep inside my bones that it is an indelible part of me.

"Come," she says. "Let's go to your quarters?" She says it as a question, still just as unsure as I am about what to do. "No, wait. My quarters. I have my walking stick in there. It is sturdy, it can help you. It will take some getting used to, and I will still assist you, but you should use it. Come now." My breath falters nearly as much as my steps do as we walk to her quarters a couple of corridors down from the balcony. 

Queen Celeste

My throne room sits empty, and the throne itself stares back at me. I feel as if it is mocking me, staring and judging me for what I've done. Next to it is the empty throne of my late husband. I look to the place where my daughter, the kingdom's princess, stands beside me. Stood beside me...will she ever stand beside me again now? My shoes make soft clunks as I walk across the marble floor to my throne, my fingers skimming over it softly. Turning, I sit down as gracefully as I can manage. I do better than I expected, but fall into it just a smidge harder than I would on any other given day. My chin rests in my hand, my elbow on the golden arm of the throne, and I stare off into the distance, wondering as to what Laurence has done. What we've done, and ultimately, what I've caused. 

This is my fault. 

My throat burns, and I blink back tears. I am partially successful, and as I contemplate my mistake, the room and all else fades out around me. I do not hear the footsteps approaching, and I just make out the figure in the doorway before he speaks. 

"Your Majesty," he says. There is a tinge of something in his voice. Something off. 

"Darren," I say, in the most dignified tone I can muster up. I shake my head, shake off the thoughts plaguing me. "What is it?" I try to sit up straighter, but my body slumps back into its previous position, too tired for anything else. 

My blood turns cold as he utters his next words. "I know." 

Darren the Guard

"I know." 

The two words are so simple, but they hold so much weight. The queen tries to keep her face blank, but I know she knows what I mean, I have been part of her guard for the better part of a decade, I know how to read our queen's face. 

I see the tired lines etched into her skin more than I ever have, as if the lies, the stress of keeping her secret, is finally showing. And her eyes are so tired, deep sunken into her regal face. My hand falls to my sword in its sheath at my hip as I take but a step closer to her.  I don’t want to alarm her, not too much, not just yet. If I do before I get close, she could call the other guards. Those who do not know about her deception. I wonder, if they did, would they act as I am now? Would they feel the same betrayal from our beloved queen? So strong, so wise, so noble and kind? Or would some of them follow her still, defend her regardless?

If they do, then I shall take them down, as well, I think.

“Have you something to say to me, Darren?” Her voice is as tried as her eyes.

Do I? I am not sure, is there anything to say? She knows what she did.

“You lied to us.”

She nods. “I suppose.”

“You suppose?” I feel the anger rising like high tide within me now. “Is there an argument for otherwise?”

She sighs, adjusts herself on her throne. A throne I now wish to shatter. “I never lied to you about my daughter. I withheld information, but I never lied about that.”

“Yet you preached to us about kindness, compassion, integrity.”

Again, she nods. “Yes, I did.” I wish she would do more than nod, more than agree with me. “I was just trying to protect my daughter. But I was wrong. I see that now. I’m not certain I was even truly protecting her. She will never forgive me.”

“Good.” The word is spat from between my teeth.

She chuckles, humorlessly. “Yes, good. Neither of them will ever forgive me.” She speaks of her daughter’s female lover, of course. “We will never be forgiven.”

“The father of the princess’ lover?”

“Yes,” the word is soft as a breath.

“Maybe you don’t deserve to be.”

Another chuckle. “Perhaps not,” she says. Her eyes drift down to my left hand, which I see, as I follow her gaze, has somehow drifted down to hold the handle of my sword. “Were you planning on doing something with that?” She nods to it casually.

My teeth gnash together for a moment before I gulp. My eyes dart around the throne room. “I was.” I was, now the smallest prickle of doubt has crept in, though I do not wish to say it.

Her tired green eyes do not falter this time, their usual strength and dignity returning. “Well, go ahead. I know I was wrong. But I will not apologize for wanting to take care of my daughter, even if I may have done it the wrong way.” Stepping forward, she still holds my gaze defiantly. She lifts her chin in defiance, every bit the queen she is, her eyes holding mine, daring me to act.

I do. I unsheathe my sword.

And as I do, my head throbs with a sudden blow, and I fall to the floor.

Laurence The Cook

I thought the footsteps were coming from me, but they went right past me. I wondered briefly on it, and then I came back to find my daughter, and the queen’s. To apologize to them, to beg forgiveness, but as I did, I heard the voices. Darren. I recognized him and the queen’s voice immediately. These are the footsteps that I heard. I watched from just around the corner. The guard too distracted with his rage to notice me as I crept up the hall. Before I even understood what I was doing, I had grabbed a heavy gold candelabra as I passed. And the next thing I knew, I was swinging it as hard as I could across the back of his skull and he was falling to the ground.

The queen’s eyes go round with shock.

“What- what are you- what are you doing back here? What are you doing? What have you done?” She babbles as I have never heard her do before this day.

“I don’t-I didn’t-” I look to the ground, at the guard, Darren. I know him well enough. We have dined together and he is a loyal subject and good fighter. He has defended this kingdom many times. “I don’t know what came over me,” I say, as I look back up the queen. “He was going to kill you. And I could not let that happen.”

Her jaw clenches but it does not seem to be out of anger. She swallows and her voice nearly breaks on the first word. “I did not think you would care. After what I have done to you. And your daughter.” Her voice does break now.

“Nor did I,” I admit.

“Then why did you?”

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “I just….I couldn’t let him.”

The him I am referring to begins stirring on the floor, a pained groan issuing from his lips. But he is an experienced fighter, used to pain, and he is recovering, already beginning to come to. (June 26^th, 2024)

Before I am aware of mentally giving my consent my feet begin to move and my mouth forms the words "Stay behind me, Your Majesty." Her title falls from my lips, surprising me. And I am standing in front of the queen on her throne, protecting her. The woman I swore I had forsaken. The one whose daughter I just crippled. Yet I cannot let this man do what he has set out to. 

"Laurence," the queen whispers as Darren rises from the floor. I ignore her. 

"Move." His voice is strong. 

"No," I say quietly. 

"Get out of my way, cook," he snarls. 

I shake my head. "I will not move, Darren." 

He grips his sword tight. "Then die with her." 

As he lunges, I reach for the dagger concealed in my jacket, knowing I will not make it in time. But I am not stabbed. Instead, I find myself on the hard floor, a pain in my head as it thumps on the marble. I look up, and the queen is run through with Darren's sword. It goes in one side of her and comes out the other, and I watch as a bit of blood appears on her parted lips. It bubbles at the corner of her mouth, then pops and trickles down her chin, before Darren uses his foot to push her off his sword, and she crumples to the ground.

Footsteps reach from the corridor. Inconsistent. Unsteady. And I know who it is. My chest burns with the guilt of it. 

"Mother!" the princess gasps and I feel even worse, as if I am the one who ran her through. In that moment, I feel as though I might as well be. Am I what led to this? Or did she lead to all of this herself? Is there blame to be places? Is it even worth trying to place blame? I do not know anymore. 

"She saved me," I say, my voice filled with wonder, still stunned by the occurrence, even if I did try to save her myself.

But Darren has turned on the two girls. I didn't think he would do it, but his sword is raised. "No!" I shout and launch myself at him. The force of it knocks him backward and I go toppling to the ground with him. He grapples pout of my reach and I follow, but he knocks an elbow into my shoulder and hit the wall hard, another pain blooming around my ribs, and Darren has made a run for it. He knows all the secret passages of the palace, he was her most trusted guard, they will not catch him. 

Princess Tara

Lana helps me kneel down beside my mother, and I do not know what to do. I was sure I could never forgive her, and I'm still not sure that I have, but this? I did not expect her to be bleeding out on the very same day. 

"The guards have been called," Lana says. 

"Darren will be long gone by then," I whisper, my hands hovering over my mother, unsure where to touch, or if I should. 

"They will still try, and someone needs to - to tend the queen." Her voice falters, because we both know there is no saving my mother. 

The guards run in just as she finishes saying it. I barely hear Lana apprising them of the situation before footsteps run in the direction Darren went. I already know they will not catch him. And the guard who looked down at my mother and then called for a doctor knows this is a lost cause, as well. 

The doctor kneels down next to me and says, "I'm sorry, there is nothing to be done.

"Laurence?" one of the guars says, and both Lana and I turn to him just as he slides down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind. 

"Father!" 

I have just enough presence of mind to yell to the guard to have the doctor take him to be treated. 

He is escorted from the room, leaning heavily on one of the guards, I do not know which one, as Lana looks on, just as helpless as I am. After a few seconds of staring at the empty door, she is beside me. My mother lay on the cold marble floor gasping for air. 

"My princess..." she says, her voice weak. 

"Mother, don't-" I start, but she interrupts. 

"We know it will not help to save my breath. Let me speak." 

And we are silent. 

She reaches for my hand. "I am sorry." Then she looks at Lana and takes her hand; she lets her. "I never should have done what I’ve done. I hope you both can forgive me.” She keeps going, not giving a chance for a reply, knowing that her time is short. Her vivid eyes are on mine again. 

“You must rule now.”    

"Me?" My stomach feels like a block of ice. I knew this would happen one day, perhaps, but now? “I c-can’t.”   

“You can. You are my heir; you are our true ruler. You will not be alone. You have each other.” She looks between the two of us. "Do-" she takes a deep breath, "-better." Tears are streaming from both our eyes now as she reaches up to touch my cheek. She takes in another gulp of air and says in a whisper, "I love you." Then her hand drops from my face, and she moves no more. 

*** 

Later, in my quarters, Lana and I sit upon my bed, hands clasped and heads bowed together. We have spoken scarcely a word while we wait fir news of her father. I thought I could never forgive him, either. I am still not sure I have forgiven either of them, and I am sure Lana feels the same, but did we ever wish them harm? No. 

A knock on the door calls our attention. I go to rise and open it, but am unsteady on my feet. Lana stands, touches my arm, and I sit again as she opens the bronze handle of the door. 

"Miss," the guard says in greeting to her, and looks to me. "Your Highness." I am not yet addressed as Your Majesty, for the ceremony has not yet taken place, but once it has, that will be my new form of address, and I am not sure I am ready for it. In fact, I think I may hate it. 

The guard's head us bowed as he turns to Lana, and I know what he is going to say. So does she. "Miss, I am so sorry, but your father did not make it. The injury was too severe." 

She draws in a shaky breath. 

"He asked me to tell you, both of you, that he was sorry." The guard does not say more, so I am not certain whether he knows what this means. 

"Thank you," I say quietly. Then, "Leave us, please." 

He walks out of the door with his head bowed. 

I pat the spot next to me, and Lana sits back beside me.

"I don't know how to feel," she says.

I shake my head. "Nor do I."

"I was so sure I would not forgive either of them."

"And have you?"

"I'm not sure..." her sentence trails off. 

"No, nor am I." 

We sit there in silence for a few minutes, and then I make up my mind. "What they did was wrong," I say. "There is no question about this, but they were so certain what they were doing was right. They said they did it for us. Perhaps they did, this is what convinced them of their rightness. They tried. They did try." I draw in breath. "We must be better than that."

Lana looks at me. "We?" 

"Yes, of course we. I cannot do this alone. I know it is much to ask of you, but I do not want anyone else. Will you be my queen?" Her mouth drops open in shock as more tears stream down her beautiful, kind face. 

"Will - will they-"

"Who cares about them? And they are not unaware of the two of us. We can rule together, do it as well as we can." She sits in stunned silence. "Well, will you? Be my queen?" I ask again. 

"Yes," she says breathily after a moment. "Of course, I will, yes." 

I smile despite the sadness eating at my chest. "I would have gotten down on one knee, but…" I gesture down at my legs and she lets out a broken laugh as she shoves my shoulder. 

"As if I care about a thing like that."

 "I know you don't," I say. 

"Queens.” She smiles. 

I smile back. "Yes, queens," I repeat. I clasp her hand tight. "We can go on; we can do this. And we will do it all together."