The Starry Sky - A Darkling/General Kirigan Prequel

5

The Queen's quarters were not just quarters. They were an entire palace of their own. Downhill from the actual Palace, it was an omnipresent building of rich, dark wood and windows that stretched into the evening sky. Domes the shape of onions sat on top of multiple towers around the edge of the building, peaking above the dense pack of trees around the quarters, and acting as a halo to the largest central dome that could barely be seen from the front steps. The doors were larger than necessary, swung open to allow admittance to the travelling Grisha and now guarded by a line of liveried servants, all of whom were dressed in the same onyx grey drab.

Anna was making as much effort as possible to distance herself from the Heretic. She knew she couldn't blame him. In all rationality she knew he hadn't done anything, but in the heat of the moment she got flustered and now she was embarrassed by herself. If she kept her distance for just now she'd be able to apologise for freaking out when she had had time to assess what had happened. As she'd stepped out of the coach she'd refused his hand, instead hitching her skirts in hers and balancing tediously on the two carriage steps, trying not to fall on her face as she touched the path. She was glad to be back on solid ground, digging her worn boots into the small stones of the pathway. No more confined coaches. No more close proximity to Heretics. At least for now. It took effort to avoid his gaze, because he was watching her fervently, so instead she looked at the building before her.

She didn't care much for it honestly; and she was surprised mostly by how unimpressive it was. Obviously size wise it was impressive, but it gave the feeling that the Queens had never been much treasured. From what she could see of the palace this place was a glorified shed. There were no flashy gold embellishments or carved-stone creatures, it was just a big wooden building with some spirals of turrets built onto the sides. Sadly, it was a reminder that no matter where she ran, Anna would only ever be a woman, and that even if she were a queen she wouldn't be treated with the respect her male counterparts got.

"Anna." A voice snapped her out of her daze, she turned her head sharply, meeting the eyes of the Heretic. He stood with a contemplative look on his face, his dark eyebrows furrowed slightly, creating fine lines to appear between them. "Would you like me to show you to your room?" She gave a stiff nod, not trusting her voice enough to be stable after the tears. Her lungs were sore with overexertion and her eyes were bruised a light shade of crimson, still shiny from the memory of tears. The man had sat with her for a few minutes, waving away the servants who tried to open the coach door for them, so he could make sure Anna had composed herself before she stepped out. As much as it was for her sake it was for his. He sympathised with her, but was in delayed shock from her reaction to the darkness, which wouldn't be a good image for him regardless, but wouldn't be helped by the appearance of a sobbing young lady who the servants and Grisha would be told they had to respect unconditionally.

She followed him blindly, passing the troop of people in grey into an antechamber that led into a large dining hall. He moved quickly, but had allowed for her to catch up, so they were walking arm to arm, weaving a path through a throng of people. Anna didn't have much time to take in the room, she was more distracted by the crowds of people watching her, in her borrowed cloak, and him, powerful and commandeering, with looks of awe plain on their faces. Saints, she thought, she was wearing his cloak. That was why he hadn't stopped to speak to her before they entered, he didn't need to, because whether or not she looked like a child, they were walking side by side, wearing matching cloaks of jet black, heading towards a set of large ebony doors. She was going to be an image of unchallenged force nevertheless.

With ease they made it to the back of the room, where two more of the charcoal-clad men stood alert. Every single eye in the room was on the pair of them, and as much as she liked to think they were all looking at him, she was keenly aware that most were watching her. Watching her loose blonde hair pool in the hood of his cloak, watching her hands clasp tightly together at the base of her back, watching her chin lift slightly like her mother had taught her to do. The breakdown was long since forgotten, Anna had been trained to lead, and now, finally presented with the task, she was ready to flourish.