The Farren Queens

Amara

When they reached the top, the mid-morning light sent a jolt of pain to Amara's head. Her vision swirled. As she struggled to keep her balance, the ground seemed to swoop over her. Amara tried to set Samir down without hurting him, but he crashed to the ground and screamed out in pain.

"What the-" was all Amara heard him say before the world went black.

When Amara woke up, she was lying on the muddy ground. Her head was still pounding and her tongue felt like sandpaper on the roof of her mouth.

What happened?

"I'm guessing you passed out."

Really? I never would have guessed.

"What am I supposed to say?"

I don't know. Maybe, 'you've been out for twenty minutes'?

"I have no idea how long we've been out."

See, that's more useful. Is Samir alright? I think I dropped him pretty hard. Amara looked over to see Samir lying down a few feet away from her. His eyes were open, and his breathing was calm and consistent.

He looks fine. she thought to herself.

"Are you okay?"

"I passed out too," he said, "I don't know how long I was out, but you were unconscious for about 30 seconds after I woke up."

"Chances are we weren't out for long. I'm guessing you were out for a few seconds."

"It felt longer than that." Samir said.

"Any longer, and we'd be dead." she replied.

"Why did you pass out?"

"I think I'm dehydrated. You must be too." Amara guessed. "The Ford River is close, I'll go try to find something to drink from. You stay here, don't move."

Samir gestured to his leg. "Wasn't planning on it."

Amara followed the sound of the water through the forest. In a few minutes, she reached the bank. The river was slow, and the water was clear. Smooth rocks covered the bottom and she could see minnows swimming downstream.

She had drunk from the river before and knew it was clean, so she dunked her head in and swallowed as much water as she could hold. She washed her face and ran her fingers through her hair. Amara's dress was covered in mildew, making the pale pink a dark, ugly green. She did her best to clean what was left of her dress, but the mold refused to leave. Disgusted, she took her knife and cut the hem off. The cuts were crooked, but Amara didn't care. She tossed the scraps into the river and washed her dagger.

On her way back, Amara tripped over short, stout log and plummeted to the ground. She let out a string of curses before she realized the the log might be of use. Amara picked herself up and carried the wood back to where Samir was waiting.

"What's that for?" he asked, nodding towards the wood.

"I'm going to carve a bowl."

"Did you get water?"

"Yeah, it's close, but the path is too hard for you."

Samir sighed and said, "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For helping me through the tunnel, and for finding the water."

"Don't thank me yet." she replied. Amara began hollowing out the branch. Her dagger wasn't made for carving, but she did her best. Once Amara got into a rhythm, it was easier and before long, the log had begun to look like a bottle.

When the bowl was deep enough, Amara got up and went to the stream. "I'll be back."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Amara nodded.

She walked down to the river. Again, Amara splashed water on her face, trying to clean any bits of the tunnel that might have remained. Taking her time, she filled the bowl and returned to Samir. He downed the water in seconds and laid his head down on the rock.

"So let me get this straight," he began, "You're sister tried to murder you at your own coronation?"

"Tried to kill me, yes."

"She missed?"

Amara paused. "She never misses."

"Clearly she does."

"Eira would've hit me," Amara took a deep breath before continuing. "But your father saved me."

"He pushed you out of the way?" Samir asked.

"No." She looked down, unable to make eye contact.

"He put himself before me, and I don't know why."

The emperor should have pushed her, or let her take the hit. There were countless ways he could have saved her without putting his own life on the line. Even though Emperor Balil had chosen to save her, Amara felt as if she was the one responsible for his death.

It was her first real danger and she had frozen. She should have dived out of the way, but instead Amara watched the dagger fall down towards her heart. How had she let herself be so weak? How had she let herself be so ignorant?

Samir stared at her. He didn't say a word, but she could see the anger and grief in his face.

"I'll give you a minute." she said, "I'll be at the river." Amara pulled another branch from a tree and began creating another bowl.

How did I let that happen? I watched her go up to the balcony with that Massaponaian boy. She was so happy. I didn't want to ruin anything for her, and now the whole kingdom is in havoc.

Amara waited for the voice in her head to say something, but she was met with silence.

Stupid. she chided. My country is ruined, and all I can think about is being ignored by my own conscience?

In the past few days she had become used to her conscience's sarcastic comments, and now her mind felt empty without it.

My own sister tried to kill me. Amara thought. She would have succeeded.

The water lapped over her feet in a happy rhythm, and for a few moments, Amara was lost in its gentle beauty. Kingdoms would rise and fall, people would live and die, but the river would continue to flow.

Amara kept carving the log, her knife moving back and forth against the grainy wood. She tried to focus only on the bowl, but her mind kept wandering to her sister and her silence didn't last.

Why would she want to kill me? We've always gotten along well.

"She wants the crown, you idiot." her conscience responded.

Since when has Eira been power hungry?

"Figure it out." There was venom behind her own thoughts that Amara had never heard, and it made her uncomfortable.

She forced her mind to empty for a few minutes as she finished the container. It was far from her best work, but it would suffice. She stood up, stretched her arms out, and filled the water. In the water, Amara saw a few slow moving fish. Dagger still in hand, she plunged it into the water, only to scare the small minnows away. She groaned and tried again.

This time, she skewered one through its head. She pulled it out of the water and gagged. The fish flopped in her hands before going still. Blood poured from where she had stabbed it, and it fell onto Amara's hands.

Amara had been sent on hunting trips with her father and other leaders when she was younger, but those trips were more about negotiating than killing game. Her father had always left her at the tents when the actual hunting began. When they returned, Amara would stay away from the dead deer, unable to believe that such a beautiful creature could be turned into dinner.

Now, she held her nose with one hand and dropped the fish into her bowl with the other. She cleaned her knife again, using nearby moss as a rag. When she walked back, she held the fish at arms length and tried not to think about its shattered bones and sticky blood.