Saving Neba

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐕: Respect is not love

Herald and I made it to the Royal Palace where a guard notified us that Crypta's father, Elera, wanted to speak to me. Herald was walking with his nose straight and differentiated. He didn't bother to spare me a glance as though he was irritated by my very presence.

"If Yvelcha died, who bore the next king? Was it not a mistress? Does that not make Crypta's father not the rightful heir to the throne?" I asked.

Herald stopped dead in his tracks then he turned to face me. His green eyes were dark, like a pumpkin leaf soaked and left to be, and fear was written all over him. "Fän petak qui Asterion snamir qui Asterion, zhun?"

[What happens in Asterion stays in Asterion, okay?]

I shook my head and said spitefully, "Whatever it is you spat!" A guard was standing in front of us, his face hidden behind his silver helmet. Looking at him now, it felt different.

This was an Asterion, possibly. A descendant of one of those who had surrendered to The Royals during the war. The guard had been sent by Elera to guide me to his chamber. I had been there once when I used my Mehjazgeu and had appeared when Crypta and his father were having a discussion.

Herald nodded to the guard and turned to leave. The guard worked without sluggishness, his eyes focused on the road ahead. I studied his body hidden under the silver suit as I mumbled a "Harijta yera!" not sure I had got the greetings right.

"It is five-fifty-six p.m., Miss Emerald."

"Right. What does that mean?"

He kept tight-lipped as he led the way. It wasn't until we approached a red curtain and he was about to pull it open that I held his hand and asked, "Are you not allowed to communicate?"

He tilted his head to me. I wished I could see his shade of red, or what emotion he held on his face. I stared back at the helmet. Then, he shook his head and pulled the curtain. There was a large mahogany door with two golden handles fastened to it. The guard knocked three times.

"You can come in," I heard Elera speak. It was deep, firm and brisk enough to make you obey. He pushed open the door and I was once again in the familiar intense blue room that had dark curtains and a large circular table with gold armless chairs. Elera was on one of these chairs. He was wearing a long seemingly thick gown with the front and sides bearing the colour red. His crown, a circular golden crown with a deep blue crystal on its front, was on the table before him.

"Yarijta yera, Elera Xengera. Ami kra'tart-tegh ki kyelma tun drorf ame tegh."

"Tun win kaw'vreh." The guard nodded and left. "Emery."

"Good evening, your highness."

He smiled. "Come and sit with me."

I felt the urge to obey him. His deep blue eyes were scary as though they were daring me to oppose him. I sat on the golden chair beside him and stared at his crown. Now that I was closer, it was even more beautiful.

"The Crown of Neba," he said calmly. "It is not an easy crown to wear."

"It makes you proud, doesn't it?"

"There is honour in every attainment. Do you not reckon that everything ought to be done as it is, and nothing less?"

"What do you mean?"

"The head that wears the crown will ultimately get used to its burden." He sighed, "It is not that we cannot bear it any longer, but what was bestowed must someday be returned."