ELRED VALKALIN has one job: to ensure the annual feast goes according to plan to solidify her family's claim on the throne. With a series of isolated accidents occuring during the preparation, she is convinced someone is sabotaging her. In a territo...
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The dagger clattered to the floor in a stringent thud. Then, chaos broke out. Nobles flooded out of the door, earning a storm of curious whispers from the guests who remained in the ballroom. Raimon stumbled off Cirasa in a daze. HIs eyes hardened and he cursed, craning his neck towards the trangene tree in the middle of the dais. Oh, no. Not on Elred's watch.
Elred dashed forward just as Raimon shot towards the wide open doors. Her fingers closed around the dagger Cirasa dropped and chucked it in the air. The blade flashed in the light as it sailed and ultimately embedded itself in Raimon's ankle. Her relative fell forward with a pained cry. Before he could stand up, the Garde surrounded him and tackled him to the ground.
Relief washed over Elred. They did it. They stopped the disaster.
Then, someone coughed behind her. Oh, shoot. Cirasa. She edged away from the cursing noble being held down by the Garde and ran to where her brother lay on the floor. "Hey, little brother," she whispered. "Stay with me."
She gathered her skirts and pressed the cloth to her brother's wings. Tears burned in the corner of her eyes. Her heart pounded in her head. What a cruel twist of fate this Feast turned out to be. Would he survive? Her brother groaned but he didn't stir. His eyes remained closed, his features crumpling in pain and exhaustion. She lowered her vision in the trail dimension and saw Cirasa's trail flickering faintly.
The white cloth around her legs slowly turned dark red. It's not stopping. How...
"Move aside," a voice pierced through Elred's panic. Her gaze snapped up and landed on her father. Without a word, he crouched next to her brother and carried him in his arms. He gave her a quick glance over the shoulder. "Clean yourself up. I'll deal with this."
Then, he rushed out of the room, leaving Elred still kneeling on the puddle of her brother's blood. "Your Grace," one of the Garde approached Elred but she only registered boots. "What will we do about the gathered army?"
Fabric rustled to Elred's left as the Queen strode past, her white gown still remaining immaculate despite all the chaos that happened. "Issue a state of emergency all over Helinfirth," the Queen ordered, her voice whole and flat. Elred raised her head and locked eyes with her mother. She couldn't tell if they were happy, sad, or disappointed. They were just...empty. "I want every head of the Upper City clans in here by afternoon. It's time they see what happens when they think of defying the Crown."
The Garde issued a hasty bow that's not even in the protocol and ran out of the room. Elred couldn't find the strength to push herself up, walk to the doors, and see all the decorations and guests ogling at the whole spectacle she had made of Abshire.
Despite the Queen not showing it, Elred knew. She had let her mother down. In the worst way possible.
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