The Unlikely Queens

10

Besides that woman storming off at the breakfast feast, It was perfect. The tribe was lively and energetic with constant talking and laughing, but the shock of the news and anticipation of enough gossip for a year was probably the cause. 

Mohtali and I sit on our thrones, watching my new people dance and socialize. I do not miss the never ending glances that evade me as soon as I look over, or the whispering behind their hands. I try to put it out of my mind as I listen to the interesting music. On a tasseled rug to the right of me are two men and a woman strumming lutes and a softly playing a drum. It is electrifying and the women of the tribe are dancing with so much fire and sensuality, slinging their gorgeous dark hair and rolling their hips. This is such excitement compared to tedious Parandorian life. The Targanvor people are not frightening or savages at all. They may hate me, but I can see they are full of life and serius about their customs, just like me and everyone I have known my whole life. I hate that I have to come to this realization at all, but I am not entirely to blame. I have told my whole life that the Targanvor are monsters and I never dared to find out for myself until the day I accidentally met my husband. 

Their culture is so enthralling. In bed last night, Mohtali told me all about the gods and goddesses of the Targanvor religion Wrykhi. The King and Queen of all the gods, who appeared on day on Earth for reasons unknown, are Ekene and Nathari. They are the beings from which all the gods originate and my new people pray to the king for courage, hunting, and success in war and to the queen for fertility, peace, and kindness. There are ten others and each represent their values or desires in life. 

"My love?" Mohtali says. 

"Yes?" 

"You look very captivated. Would you like to join the dancing? The women would be happy to teach their queen."

I doubt that. They will pretend for Mohtali's sake, but I won't be able to stand the covert hatred in their eyes and words. 

I smile anyway and shake my head, "I am fine. I enjoy watching. Thank you."

"As long as you are happy, Your Majesty." He kisses my hand and I beam. "There are some people I would love for you to meet. May I present them to you?"

"You may." 

Mohtali makes a welcoming motion to his brother, his wife, and their small son. They line up in front of us and Nuhanu's wife scowls at me as she curtsies low. I don't dare look away. I am the Cyra now, Queen of all Queens, and I will not be intimidated. 

"Dahlia, you remember my brother Prince Nuhanu? This is his wife Princess Ahmia and their son Prince Hasani." 

"It is wonderful to meet you all," I say cheerfully. "I have been anxious to meet my new sister-in-law and nephew."

"We have been anxious to meet you as well, Your Majesty." The princess practically chokes on the words. 

Even though she obviously despises me, I continue to appear pleasant. Ahmia is striking with her shoulder length curly hair and small, pointy nose. Her cheekbones are prominent and her thin lips are set in a hard line. She awkwardly adjusts the flower crown made of white lillies on top of her head, worn by all Targanvor princesses on special occasions such as this. 

"Hasani, kiss the queen's ring." Nuhanu pushes his son closer to me. 

The little prince comes forward as I offer my hand, which he kisses with the grace of an adult. 

"Your Majesty." He bows his head. 

"How old are you, Your Highness?" I smile. 

"Seven, Your Majesty."