Of Blood & Power

T H E C R O W N

THE WORDS HIT HER WITH SURPRISING FORCE.

It wasn't that the Emperor's death grieved Erienne terribly. After all, she hardly knew him. However, that did nothing to change the note of uncertainty that hung in the hair. According to Weiss protocol, Adrian would be crowned Emperor within the week, before his father was buried if need be. As the imperial ruler he would have every right to work around agreements and treaties. And though it would prove to be difficult, because of the complexity of the contract, Erienne knew he wanted more than ever to dissolve their marriage agreement. And she was sure that her father would be content in its extermination.

After all, uncertain death would cease to loom over him. Everyone could breathe a little easier at the Emperor's demise.
Her father.
Her step-mother.
Even her husband.

Everyone but Erienne.

She couldn't go back to Samarian court. She had lost her title, her birthright, and her rightful place all because of the marriage. Erienne was sure she wasn't getting any of her stolen Samarian privileges back.

There was only one way Erienne would be able to secure herself.

"Go," Erienne practically hissed at the servant.

"You and Your Grand Highness will be leaving—"

"At once, yes," Erienne snapped impatiently. "Now go."

Erienne grabbed the towel near the bath once the servant had gone. She dried herself hastily, and after oiling herself quickly, she hurried into a black slip and matching furs.  Erienne dashed down the stairs, where Adrian was already waiting. His eyes were dark.

"Your Grand Highness. My condolences." Adrian said nothing. He only turned around and made his way to the carriage. Erienne followed. His quickened pace confused Erienne. That was until the carriage door was closed in her face. Erienne rapped on the door once.

It didn't open. Erienne watched in bewilderment as the coach drove away. Then the caravan's horses trotted slowly to her, and come to a stop. The driver wordlessly looked down at Erienne, his gaze expectant. Erienne looked at open-air caravan, filled to the brim with their possessions. Her skin felt like fire.

So this was exactly how Adrian thought of her? Erienne climbed into the caravan and tried the best she could to make herself uncomfortable on a case. She knew exactly what would happen to her once they reached the palace if he insisted in such a direct insult. And Erienne, god help her, would not let such a thing happen.

The caravan's speed was exhaustingly slow. The ride was incredibly uncomfortable, the turns hurt (Erienne suspected the driver was making them sharp on purpose) but she tried to ignore it. Each minute her plot grew brighter and more brilliant. When they arrived, no one bothered to help her out. Those who'd manned the caravan mechanically unloaded the trunks. One even had the audacity to spit near her shoe. Erienne walked erected, like a princess should, paying no mind to those around her. When she arrived, the Main Hall was empty.
After several minutes, she found the library. She wandered, hopelessly, in search of pen and paper.