The Monarch | ✓

Chapter IX

After speaking with Leo, Malia needed time alone. 

While the Guardians were training and The Council was assembled, she took her horse from the stables in the late evening. She coerced her horse, Gladis, out of the stables with a carrot, petting her auburn mane. She led her to the clearing in the forest, just outside the castle.

Using a boulder as her stool, she mounted, and began to ride, the wind pushing her black locks back with more force as she picked up speed.

Her frustration turned to indignation.

She was angry at herself for not having the foresight or the courage to extend a hand to Phelmor earlier. She was angry at her parents for leaving her. At her mother's family for casting her mother out of the kingdom and living estranged from. Nore than anyone else, she was angry at The Council. She was sure that they had kept the details of her mother's lineage away from her.

What if King Roman had knew about her lineage? Could that have been what Valerie and Zehra were discussing?

What if her grandmother had tried to visit in the past?

What if she could be reunited with living members of her own family?

She wanted the opportunity.

She wanted to visit Wathora, even if they weren't willing to accept her. She would make them accept her. They were her family, after all. They had to know that Kaurtyn's soon-to-be monarch was none other than the late King Francis and Queen Maiara's daughter.

She slowed Gladis in the middle of the forest, once she was sure no one could reach her. She wanted to scream but no sound came out. She was too tired for tears, she had already wasted many of them on The Council over the years.

She watched the sky burn from above, the last glow before it turned to darkness. She turned Gladis by the reigns, knowing it was time to return back to the castle.

When she arrived back, she saw the Guardians finishing their turning. A face in the distance spotted her. Neil.

No one had come to reprimand her for her actions so she could only assume she didn't disclose her solo adventures to anyone. As the other Guardians left, soon Victor and Isabelle were the only ones that remained. They were gathering the supplies in the Guard Den in the dark. Weaponry practices were restricted to daylight.

Victor noticed her approach first.

"I wanted to talk to both of you," Malia said.

She waited for the two to finish gathering the supplies and leave them by the castle doors. They sat a bench in the Guard Den. Victor and Isabelle across from Malia.

"I spoke with Leo," Malia breathed.

Isabelle leaned back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other. Malia could see the bits of dirt that speckled her black boots.

"Do either of you know anything about my heritage?" Malia asked.

"I think everyone knows the great rulers of Kaurtyn," Victor responded. "We're taught history in the early days of school. It's considered to be uncultured if one is without knowledge of the royal family."

Victor looked at Isabelle without turning his head. She smirked back at him. They were either quoting or mocking. Malia didn't care.

"Not my father's family," Malia said. "My mother's family."

They both stared at her blankly. Isabelle shrugged.

"All my mother has ever said was that your mother wasn't born in Kaurtyn," Isabelle said.