Potenkiah, the deathgiver

Chapter 13

The great hall was already crowded when the ladies walked in. Deana Obrien and Daphne Britter led the group, their respective daughters behind them.

"I don't care that we were given three days off from college, Ann, I'll stay in the palace as much as I have to. The headmaster has to understand," said Paty, making sure her mother couldn't hear. "Are you with me?"

"I'll convince mom to let us stay until Brid gets better," Annie muttered as she rubbed her frozen fingers together.

When they saw William among hundreds of long faces, they rushed over, lifting their skirts from the ground to avoid tripping. They were still wearing their coats; the Royal Guard had delayed them an hour on the outer gate under a heavy snowstorm, while they inspected their luggage, and confirmed the authenticity of their permits. They should consider themselves lucky for having access in such a short time; it had barely been twenty-four hours since the murder, so entering the palace, including public areas, such as the courts or the media room, was virtually impossible.

While they crossed the great hall, Annie recognized several faces, but didn't greet anyone. People gathered there for the forty-eight hour wake prior to the royal burial, however, she doubted that anyone here felt for the deceased or their heiress what she and her mother were suffering at the time: a knot of worry and pain in their stomachs.

Daphne was inconsolable. The news of the Queen's death had hit her so hard that she had fainted. "A bomb," Annie had heard her repeat all the previous afternoon. "How is that possible?" She'd ordered the pilot to prepare the ship to fly to the palace as soon as it was ready. Nevertheless, a call from William made her change her plans. After giving them a reliable report on the Princess' health -the news just mentioned that her condition was serious but stable-, the old man had suggested they wait for another twenty-four hours; flying that afternoon would be useless. Residents were being questioned in the palace, and the Royal Guard wouldn't allow entry to anyone. In addition, Bridget was in the intensive care ward, under the strongest security measures and couldn't receive visitors, including him.

William greeted Daphne with a hug, and then took her pale hands in his own, wrinkled and covered in callouses.

"My lady, may the Goddess bless you, and the grief that overwhelms you now be temporary," he said kindly.

"I appreciate your wishes, professor," replied the lady with a knot in her throat.

"Dear Deana, ladies," he bowed his head to them, and turning to Paty's mother asked, "How was your flight?"

"It was good, glah. Thank you for asking," Deana said, using the common way of referring to older relatives, in this case, her great uncle. "There's an army of reporters out there waiting for news to tell."

"They will have to wait a little longer."

"Where is my lady Vaniah? I want to present our condolences for the death of her brother, the King."

"I am afraid to inform you that she is going through a nervous breakdown. She has retired to her quarters. Maybe tomorrow she will be able to comply with protocol, and attend the wake."

"I'm sorry to hear that. And the King's old mother, so..."

"You just said it, Deana, so... old. The poor woman has gone senile. She dispatched the ambassadors loudly, telling them they were wrong, that it was another Jhon Black who had died, that her son was alive, and that he had called her that morning to say hello. That he lived in Great Capitol with his wife Princess Alaissa, and had told her he would visit for the festivities of the Goddess, because his coronation was coming up."