“For raising a traitor to the realm.”
A breath works its way out of my chest. This poor man has been punished enough.
“There is no punishment, Marcus. Unless you’re claiming to have known all along who he was?” My brow raises as I wait for his answer.
His face turns a ruddy shade of red. “I absolutely did not?—”
Lachlan places a hand on his shoulder gently, quieting him. “We know.”
Agatha clears her throat. “The throne?”
“Let’s go,” I order, striding down the dock. Mina, Agatha, and Lachlan follow behind me.
I exchange pleasantries with those who have gathered to greet me. Hands are shaken, bows bestowed, and chests thumped. I’m appreciative that they took the time out of their busy morning to greet me. We mount the horses that Mina and Agatha brought and head towards the castle.
They desecrated my mother’s throne, and this entire realm. My blood boils as rage burns through me. My skin tingles even here with magic still hindered.
I will make him pay.
My skin shimmers. The horse I’m riding flicks its ears in worry. I take a slow deep breath like Torin taught me so I don’t end up getting thrown off.
“Easy,” I whisper to the horse. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” I slow our pace until we come to a stop.
Everyone stops with me.
“Again?” Lachlan asks, eyeing the light radiating from me.
“I don’t know why it keeps happening.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrow. “It happens when ye feel a rush of emotion. Magic is getting stronger here. You’ll have to learn to control it.”
“But my power is battle foresight?” My nose scrunches.Why is it even happening? I’m not being attacked.
“That we know of,” Lachlan murmurs.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s possible ye ha’ more than one power.”
My mind is a whirlwind. “How?”
“Well, ye are the queen. And a powerful one at that…”
I turn to Agatha, her lips press into a thin line. “It is possible.”
I push my horse forward again, this time at a faster pace.
Rolling hills of green and large boulders dot the landscape. There are still areas of flattened grasses from the tents that wereerected during the rebellion. New timber houses stand tall and their occupants wave from their front doors as we pass.
I don’t have to force a smile to my face as I wave. I’m not surprised that people decided to stay here. This is a beautiful place to live. I see so much of Gran and Torin in this place, I can’t wait to bring her back here. Then it truly will feel like home.
The marble chair looks exactly like the painting depicted. A timeless, arching chair that looks like it was constructed from the very marble the Great Hall was built with. It sits in a cluttered room of mismatched furniture in a dusty room of the castle. A single circular window allows for a shaft of light into the room, sparkling dust motes float whimsically in the air.
I stroke my palm along the carved armrest and close my eyes. This was my mother’s ruling seat. An embodiment of her power over this realm. Emotions well up inside my chest and I can’t tell if the sadness outweighs the pride I feel.
I let the feelings battle.
A war between the anguish I feel of never seeing her here and the pride in the legacy in which she left me.
