Scorpius (Stars and Sails, Book 2)

Two (Part 2 of 2)

Queen Dowager Pleione was still in the ceremony room when Ro returned.

It was late, nearly three in the morning, but Ro hadn't gotten any sleep. She had tossed and turned for two hours, half-awake, dreams heavy with the memory of her father's funeral. When she awoke, all she could think of was the throne. It was nearly hers now, but she felt guilty like she wished for her father to die.

The Queen Dowager sat on her dais in front of the golden coffin, her fingers gripping onto the edges of the raised platform. She wasn't crying anymore. She was just mad. Her veins were bulging in her once dainty hands and arms. A large blue one traced the lateral of her neck, her forehead. She wasn't wearing her mourning veil any longer. Ro had worn hers to sleep and was still draped in it now, the heavy netting sparking from static.

Ro bowed. "Mamá."

Her mother turned her head, her mousy brown hair frizzed in bunches as if she had been pulling at her hair all evening. "Merope," she said through gritted teeth. "Why don't you sit? I've no point in being so angry, have I?" She couldn't maintain eye contact for more than a minute. Her eyes were a sterile kind of blue, the same eyes she'd given to her daughters--although most of them seemed to retain a bit more life in their gazes. Despite this, Queen Dowager Pleione was much more beautiful than Ro. As most people had mentioned, Ro was a bit plain-looking, like the backside of a canvas.

"Angry?" Ro's voice was expressionless. She set her eyebrows in, where they always sat, at a harsh, nearly determined line on her face.

Her mother laughed lightly before pushing a matted twist of hair away. "Oh, it's all dissolved. The sadness. The grief. Mm. I don't feel it anymore." Rain trickled against the starlight dome overhead. "You know, I spent nights lying awake, thinking about what a different country this would have have been if I was born a Garnet."

"You mustn't think of such things, Mamá," Ro stammered on sounds for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. "You can hardly control what family you are born into."

"Are you trying to provoke me?"

"No, no," Ro shook her head. "No."

"If I was ever the head of the House of Garnet, I would have never dreamt of letting my heart kill me like that." She darted a tired arm out toward the coffin, her enormous bell sleeves rolling down to her elbows. "I would rather die for what I've done. Something great. Something worthy of change. Something selfish. This country wouldn't look the same to you, I swear on your holiest of constellations."

Ro stayed quiet and listened to her mother's angry breath echo throughout the ceremony room. The rain continued, harder now, until the ceiling was a hollow drum.

Queen Dowager Pleione readjusted her seating. She was still young, only in her early 40's. Compared to her husband, who had been fifteen years her senior, she seemed to rival him in almost all accounts except for kindness. Pleione wasn't always the sweetest, most nurturing woman, but she was generous on occasions when it suited her.

"Promise me something, my seventh daughter."

"Anything, Mamá."

"Promise me you won't be anything like your father. Good men and good women rarely get anything done."

Ro swallowed hard, pulling her veil like it might warm her bare arms. She found trouble responding to her mother's vacant eyes and bright-red lips. "You don't want me to be good." II t wasn't as much of a question as it should have been. Ro already knew the answer.

"You said anything. You said you'd do anything for me, Merope."

The rain continued to fall until Ro felt the entire ceremony room had her trapped in the belly of a drum, her temples pounded from the beat. She nodded. "I don't think...," Ro smiled harshly. "I don't. Truly. I don't think I'm as good as Papá seemed to think. No. I'll make them remember me. I'll make them remember us." she whispered before leaving her mother with the golden coffin and a smile on her red lips.