Queen of the Ashes

III.

Despite her determination to be annoyed with the letter's obsequious and flowery language, its informal address of her and her sister, and the presumptiveness of its sender in postmarking it so close to the date of her coronation – thus leaving her no time to respond – the young woman found herself reading that last note over and over again to herself until the line became smudged and almost illegible.

After two days in her keeping, she asked for its contents to be relayed to her council, as well as to her sister. The former echoed her annoyance at the late notice and suspicion of the sender's true intentions, given the events in the Isles, while the latter bubbled with excitement at the prospect of seeing the mysterious prince again. While the younger princess's memories of her childhood encounters with him were faded, they still provoked a feeling of warmth upon recall.

She was glad to give her sister something to look forward to amidst all the hustle and bustle around the castle, both sisters being pulled to and from one engagement to the other. Since being cut down in size during her childhood, the staff had adapted well to the new challenges of managing the castle's daily duties—but even the hardiest among them seemed to struggle with how much was being asked of them for this specific occasion. The security personnel required for reopening the gates and managing the guests alone was much greater than anything that had been needed in the previous thirteen years, and she watched them rehearse and train in the courtyard from afar, their disorganization making her hands twitch with unease.

She did her best to accommodate their needs, understanding the difficulties they faced, but struggled to maintain a calm and even temper with all of their requests. The most challenging times were those in which she had to be in a room with her sister for her own rehearsals, finding herself ill-equipped to hold even the most basic chats. Eventually, her answers would become shorter and more elusive until the her sister would sigh and stop trying to push the discussion any further. Though these moments were painful for the young woman, she would silently repeat her father's mantra to herself, and the feeling would pass.

On most days, this routine and her father's words were enough to placate her agitated mind. But as the date of the coronation drew nearer, she found that their pacifying effect had weakened. When the day arrived, she came to the library to be alone, watching as the many unnamed, unknown guests from lands near and far filtered in from the docks, waiting impatiently for the gates to open. She wondered if the young prince was among them, and searched for a while to see if she could find him. When this effort proved futile, she finally turned away from the window, her gaze drawn to the portrait of her father.

It was his coronation portrait, and in an effort to calm herself, she removed her gloves and picked up a candlestick and ornament from a nearby table, holding them in the same manner as her father held the royal orb and scepter in the painting.

Conceal. Don't feel.

Her father's voice broke through the silence in the room, and she swallowed in surprise, starting to perspire.

Put on a show.

Looking at her hands, she saw that the candlestick and ornament had iced over. The sight caused her to gasp and slam them back down on the table, and she quickly slid her gloves back over her hands. She closed her eyes for a moment, and breathed.

"It's only for today," she told herself, exhaling.

A knock on the library door roused her from her brief meditation. "Come in," she called, standing in front of the table so that the visitor would not see her handiwork.

The steward entered. "Is it time, Your Majesty?" he asked.

She nodded, her cheeks returning to their normal pallor. "Yes, Kai. Tell the guards to open up the gates."