Their Thirst For Pride

15 - Bittersweet

Urgent knocks pounded on Lyra’s door.
“Open up, it’s Victor.”
The door opened and out peeked Autumn. She let the guard inside and made sure the lock was secure.
“What happened? Did you find him?” Lyra asked from where she sat on her bed.
“Where is he?” Autumn added.
“He’s dead. I found him in his room with a knife in his side. I looked everywhere in the castle for someone but I couldn’t find anyone. We have to get more guards in here.” Victor explained.
“What-” Autumn started.
“Agreed. Go get more guards.” Lyra commanded.
“Will do, your majesty,” Victor bowed, then left the room.
Autumn watched Lyra who didn’t seem to notice her staring. The Queen sat hunched over on her bed. Her breathing was heavy and her face seemed uneasy.
“I’m so glad things are being figured out.” Autumn said to change the subject.
“I’m going out there.”
“What?”
“I’m going to look for the killer myself. It was my duty to protect these people and I failed miserably. If I can find who did this I could be the one to bring justice.”
“Lyra, you can’t. What if you get hurt?”
“I can’t listen to your suggestions right now, Autumn. I’ll see you.”
The asisstant watched as Lyra walked out of the room. She wanted to run after her but did the Queen ever really listen to most of her suggestions? She had to let this play out, she presumed.

Lyra wanted to faint. She walked as fast as possible through the halls not entirely sure of her next move if she ran into someone.
After searching long dark halls of the palace she ended up in the throne room. Of course. She found herself in familiar situation, tears filling her eyes and she pulled relentlessly on the doorknobs of the entrance. It was no use. She was stuck here until guards came. Everything was her fault, she failed Emavaria. And it wasn’t just that. What if the murderer did find her and decided to take her life just like that before anyone came?
“Your Majesty, please,”
Her hands shook as she stared at the wood planks of the door for what was possibly the last time. She let her fingers part from the door and slowly turned around.
“What…?” She muttered as she looked into the very familiar eyes of Vardaan. “No no no, please-”
“Hello, Lyra”
Was she dreaming? “But you…”
“Calm down, I’m not here to harm you.”
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t respond. Everything slowly pieced itself together in her mind. Her suspicions were correct but she let love blind her. He never cared for her, did he?
“Aren’t you glad to see me? I’m not dead!”
“Please tell me this was all fake.”
He held out his arms to her, “You look tired, come here.”
She didn’t want to but her eyes were drawn to the small glass hanging off of his finger suspended by a chain. The lid was slightly loose and the aroma that drifted from it filled her with delight. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his back.
“There you are, everything’s going to be just fine, Lyra.” He said, hugging her back, letting the potion brush across her face in the act.
“You’re alive! How did you-”
“We’ll discuss the matter later. Will you do me a favor, if I may ask?”
She held back at first but nodded as she pulled away from him.
“Drink this, it’s good. It’s a special recipe.” He winked.
She stared at him, then the potion. “Special recipe?” She replied, her voice filled with revulsion.
Vardaan took a step forward, realizing what he had just done. He wanted to apologize but his eyes quickly darkened. He had his own problems, he didn’t have to care about Lyra being offended. It's not like he truly loved her that much anyway.
He inhaled, “I have suffered, Lyra. My entire childhood was filled with pain and yelling. My parents constantly yelled, fighting over money. We were so poor, I rarely ever got a good meal. But you wouldn’t know what that feels like, would you? You had a loving family and a stable home with promised dinners every night. And what did you do? You killed your mother all because she wanted the best for you. I never loved you. At least not fully. I wanted your money, your power. Not you. So drink it.”
The vial was shoved under Lyra’s nose once more. The scent took over her mind. Hesitantly, she reached out and took the potion. A feeling of euphoria filled her as she raised the vial to her lips.
At first, when the liquid hit her tongue, it had a sweet taste. The texture was cold and smooth. She swallowed and looked into Vardaan’s eyes. She had never fallen this deeply in love before. And she had never fallen out of love so quickly either. Her eyes turned away. Tears blurred her vision as her throat stung. Now she could taste nothing but bitterness. She hunched over and coughed into her hands.
“Lyra? Are you okay?” Vardaan asked, placing a hand onto her back.
She stood up, looking into her red filled hands. The potion she’d just consumed traveled between her fingers, turning a dark blue as it dripped down to the carpet beneath her feet.
A cold hand was placed onto her arm. Vardaan gently pulled her out of the shock.
His eyes fell to the mascara beneath the Queen’s. Tears fell down her cheeks as her breathing sped up.
“It’s okay, Lyra, quiet down.” He said, nervous her sobs would bring attention.
But she didn’t listen. “Guards!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, gripping the sides of her dress with her blue stained fingers.
And just like that, the doors behind them opened.

Lyra stood, staring at a paper with her dead eyes. Her hands gripped the table for support. It had been a week since Mr. Galle was arrested, a bittersweet feeling. But it changed nothing. She still killed her mother. She still got seven people locked in her castle to meet their deaths. Today was the day of their funerals. All of their families were out there, mourning their children and their siblings. In the end, Lyra had to blame herself. Something was terribly wrong with her and she didn’t know how to fix it. She hated herself for that.
“It’s for the better.” Said a soft voice from behind.
A tear fell down her face as she stared at her mother’s signature. Hearing Autumn’s voice so close to her own mother’s never made her feel right. She wiped the tear away just like she did with everything else in her life. Then, her shaky hands picked up the paper that held the contract for the annual games, the one her mother had signed, and ripped it right down the middle.