D E A T H

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Meanwhile, far away, in the kingdom of Fey

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Meanwhile, far away, in the kingdom of Fey...

AZRIEL CHOKED BACK TEARS AS THE CEREMONY PROCEEDED.

The dwelling was cloaked in darkness. The only person visible was the medicine man, whispering inaudible words into the air and waving a smoldering stick above her father. The old man coughed. Each breath he drew became more strained, more painful.
Today was the day.
"My youngest daughter, he croaked, draw close." Azriel scooted her legs closer to her father and wiped hastily at the tears spilling from her cheeks. He placed a weathered hand on her thigh. "Closer," he beckoned. She drew her face to his, positioning her ear close to his mouth. "You are destined for greater things than this. You are not to be a commoner." He coughed, phlegm spurting from his mouth. The medicine man wiped the substance from his lips. "You are going to be queen."

If only Azriel could laugh through her tears. "That is impossible father. The only people who have a chance to advance to Fey court are people with clean blood lines. We haven't that. To reach queendom you need a noble bloodline. We certainly don't have that." How many times had she observed the beautiful carriages at the market square? How many times had she longed to be dressed in silk, dwelling in houses of marble that stretched behind a measly story? No boring and tiresome chores. She longed instead to be drilled in the art of languages, literature, and history. To marry someone of stature. These wishes had become Azriel's obsessions.

Her older sister, now married, always scoffed when Azriel voiced these desires. "Even to be a mistress, and she really made sure she spat out the word 'mistress', you'd have to have some sort of rank in society. Papa is a neglected bastard and Mama comes from an enduring line of peasantry. There is no way you could make your way to royal court." Her mother encouraged her daughter to abandon any such hopes of a better life. "This is the way my family has been for years. It wouldn't do you any good to go on longing for something that can never be." Nevertheless, Azriel's hopes did not cease.

Not until her father became sick.

Then every fiber of her being, every prayer, was directed toward her father's recovery. She spent endless nights, on her knees, tending to him. And it was now, she knew, that it was in vain. "It can never be Papa," she whispered.

"It can, my daughter. You were always made to do great things, to achieve more than your sister, your mother, or I ever could. I love you so much." She could hear the strained smile in his voice. "I love you my beautiful Azriel."

"And I love you Papa."

"I'm not long for this world. Today is the day, my child. When I'm gone, I want you to go to the quarters where I reside. In the south corner, you'll find a locked chest. The key is underneath. Unlock it, my dear, and inside you shall find the silken robes of a royal. I haven't the time to explain how I acquired them. Go out to the square, today they are rounding up the girls for Selection. Go, Azriel. Do not stay here to weep and mourn over me. I shall only be a carcass. This is your destiny. My last wish. Fulfill it with haste."

"Yes, Papa."

As soon as Azriel had uttered the words, her father erupted into a terrible coughing fit. Azriel's mother and sister rushed to his side.

"Hammond! Hammond!" her mother cried, placing her hand in his. He squeezed it. Then his grasp became loose. Azriel's mother dropped his hand in horror letting out the loudest wail.

Azriel stood from where she knelt.

Her father was dead.

It took a few moments before Azriel made herself move. She walked from the main room in the dwelling, the cries of her mother and sister intensifying. Azriel walked stiffly, as if possessed. Her trance only broke when she felt the silken robes in the chest. Though it was too dark to make the color out, she could only guess at their beauty. And worth. Azriel gathered the treasure carefully in her arms and exited the dwelling quickly. Unclothed, she took the washing basin, already filled to the brim with cold water, and scrubbed herself raw with salts. Afterwards, she quickly rubbed olive oil into her body, careful not to miss an inch.

She worked the substance into her wet curls as well. The robes fit perfectly. It was styled as a beautiful white tunic, with a matching headdress (adorned with jeweled attachments) with woven thread and gold sandals. Azriel rubbed a generous amount of oil on her lips, and rubbed her eyes. She would not cry. It was then that Jarys, Azriel's sister, exited the dwelling.

"What is the meaning of this?" The poor woman was trembling. "Do you not see that our father is dead? Do you not see our mother is grieved, in need of comfort? Why are you out here playing dress up?" Azriel straightened.

"It isn't dress up dear sister."

"Our father is dead!" This time her words came out as a shout. "Dead, Azriel. What do you think you're doing?" Azriel bit her lip.

"It was Papa's wish that I go to the market square and take part in the Selection." Jarys' eyes rolled.

"My god, Azriel. Again, with this stupid dream? That is what you turn to in this dire hour? Our blood is tainted, for goodness sake, it can never happen!"

"It was his last wish!" Azriel exclaimed in return.

"I'm sure it was." Jarys' words dripped in sarcasm. Azriel's lip trembled.

"It was. Jarys it was. The only thing I wanted was for Papa to become well. I cared for him for hours. Do you honestly think, tears were spilling now, that I want to leave my father's body before it is even cold? I loved him. I love you. I love mother. It was his wish." Azriel failed to stop her tears for several moments while her sister merely looked on. Jarys approached her for a hug but Azriel stopped her. "You mustn't wrinkle the fabric." She grabbed her older sister by the wrists staring deep into her eyes. "I will make it to the palace, I promise. Even if I do not become queen, I will make it to the harem. I can then make sure you, your husband, and Mother escape this life. It was what he wanted." Jarys said nothing, only looking at her sister.

"He seems to think you are our miracle."

"I am."

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