Claiming Her Crown (War Songs of the Courts #2)

Chapter Eleven

Attarah

Silence.

One might think it to be a comforting sound, but she knew better and so did the stained wood that wordlessly taunted her with it.

The Council sat just past the very door she stood before now, no doubt arguing, yet the only sound she could hear was the steady rhythm of her own breathing

"Are you alright?" Drouyn asked.

Am I truly suited for this? she asked herself, tugging on the inside of the sleeve of her dress. She couldn't answer the question. Some days she felt like it was her very purpose, but most days she couldn't help but feel like she was all wrong.

She swallowed the urge to voice her thoughts and intertwined her fingers to prevent them from fiddling. "Can you hear them in there?" She asked instead, guiding the conversation elsewhere.

She certainly could not hear them. She still had yet to develop any of the abilities of her people and it just served to remind her of how human she felt around them. How human she was in the eyes of her own people. It was but another issue of her existence, and there were many to be accounted for, much to everyone's disappointment.

She could feel his eyes taking her in, and she could only imagine he was wondering if she was as prepared as she had previously claimed.

She was not. She lacked the very qualities that were essential for her very purpose, but that was not by her own doing and there was nothing she could have done to acquire them.

"No. The room is spelled for discretion. You know that."

She had forgotten about that but she nodded and cleared her throat, still looking forward. "Yes, of course."

Drouyn sighed and softened his voice. "There is no reason you must do this today. Let us delay this for a little while longer."

Her chest fell as she forced all the air from her lungs as if getting rid of it would also rid her of the destiny she had always known was hers.

It did not.

She looked over to her friend for the first time since they arrived, meeting the sadness that his eyes always held when he now looked at her and forced a meager smile onto her face. "No. This is not something we can defer forever, Drouyn."

He knew it just as much as she. She had just become better at accepting it.

She stepped forward and opened the door, accepting the swell of raised voices that rushed to greet them.

The voices all came to a swift halt, causing a heavy silence to fall at her feet with a thud. Members of the Council stood, now frozen in various argumentative positions. One was leaned over the large rounded table as if he was ready to jump over it, while another crossed his arms with a stony expression carved into his features, and a third gripped the head of his chair with white knuckles.

Only one was sitting, eyes pinned to the very spot she now stood at, as if he was expecting her at that very moment. She straightened and relaxed into the posture she'd practiced most of her life. The one that said she was meant to be queen, staring back into the unreadable faces that now watched her every move like predators seeking a limp in a small lamb.

They were meant to bow. Or even lower their heads in respect.

Yet, not a single one moved to do so.

She kept her face pleasant, but she felt the heat of her resentment surge. They wish me to be Queen, but neglect to show me the respect of one.