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“Good morning, Kayden,” Valda responded.

Maris gave Kayden a warm smile which he reciprocated right away. His presence was synonymous with comfort and ease, yet the nagging jealousy she got whenever Valda and Kayden were together would always ruin the moment, especially when she saw how Kayden and Valda interacted.

But, at the moment, Kayden and Valda greeted each other with the utmost respect, like colleagues rather than friends.

“I am accompanied by General Arwin Tuuli. He has come to escort you,” Kayden said with a slight annoyance.

Maris quickly glanced at Arwin and then turned to Kayden. She could feel and see from the corner of her eyes the man’s burning gaze upon her. His hazel eyes widened as they trailed over her body and then focused on her face. Maris eyes narrowed, before she canted her head towards him. She locked her stare with his, and her entire body ran cold.

Arwin looked at her as if he had seen a ghost. His upper lip curled for a second as his hand formed fist by his side.

If only she had a dagger… if only she was alone with him. She just wanted to ask him a couple of questions to talk to him but as she opened her mouth, Valda’s hands squeezed her shoulders. She accepted Valda’s touch and looked away.

“How are you feeling, Valda?” Arwin asked, his attention still on Maris.

“As anyone who has lost a loved one could feel, General,” Valda said vehemently.

Arwin nodded and bowed his head. “Of course. Forgive my imprudence, Princess,” he said with a hint of embarrassment.

“Shall we go?” Kayden asked.

“I am ready,” Valda answered before slightly pushing Maris forward.

Before Maris could go, she waved her hand at Cerberus, quietly asking the cat to step aside and stay in the room. Waving her tail angrily, the animal took a couple of steps back and disappeared into the living space, hiding in a corner.

Maris walked in front of the group. Eyes locked with the long hall and the stoic guards that stood at the walls. Behind her, Arwin muttered to Kayden, asking him who she was, why was she here. Kayden spoke the truth telling him that Maris was here only to help Valda.

She made her way through the corridors until she saw the large doors that connected the throne room to the main hall. Taking a deep breath, she moved her hand and gently placed it upon Valda’s, curling her fingers with the tall woman’s.

“Everything will be fine,” Maris whispered only for Valda to hear.

The weight of an entire kingdom fell upon Valda’s shoulders. She knew the throne room like the back of her hand, but her nervousness made it difficult to navigate. Valda was aware of the whispers. They wondered silently what had befallen her, while others scoffed in disbelief that this blind woman was about to be the new ruler.

On numerous occasions, Maris had to help her up the stairs and dais that led to the thrones. Instead of the usual two, there was only one. Her memory provided the image of an intricate chair that seemed to be built from sand. In front of the throne stood the open casket of the late Skylian Queen Rionach.

Standing at the head of the casket, Valda ordered Maris to leave her alone for the intimate yet important ceremony. Word had already gotten out about the queen’s death. Every single person in the kingdom knew.

Inside the throne room were the lords of all major cities as well as the smaller villages. Not everyone could fit inside the throne room, and not everyone could make it to Oberon Castle on such short notice, but there were enough people to witness the ascension of a new ruler, one who should promise to keep the peace.

Valda could feel the building pressure deep within her chest, and though her features remained stoic, her hands told another story. Her left one dangled at her side with a white-knuckled fist while the other hand squeezed a death grip upon the Heaven Sword’s handle. She kept her eyes open, looking into nothing yet hearing and feeling the atmosphere in the room. The air was dense, gloomy, the heaviness of loss permeated around her.

It was suffocating.

Valda took a deep breath and one confident step forward. She relaxed her hands and touched the casket and was soon met by cold cheeks. Valda swallowed the lump in her throat, she needed to say a proper goodbye to the woman who’d tried her best to keep Valda’s humanity on the surface.

The pressure intensified, bubbling up to escape her throat in a cry, but she held on. She leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against her mother’s. It was part of the ceremony to say goodbye by pressing foreheads together. Skylian thought that the mark of the gods was used to pass on knowledge, ruler to ruler, generation through generation. Her mother had done the same with her father, although her mother didn’t carry the blood of those blessed with the gift as Valda did. Feeling her mother’s cold skin pushed her to the brink but taking deep breaths and pressing hard to her core shattered away the need to cry out.

It was but a touch, nothing more, and yet, Valda couldn’t tear away. If she did, everyone would see a tear escape her eye. With a violent exhale, Valda pulled back, her face void, her cheeks moist.

“Saying goodbye is never easy,” Valda began. The soft buzzing of whispers in the throne room quieted until no soul could be heard. “Not when it happens so suddenly.

I wasn’t looking forward to this. Never have. There were moments in my life where I thought I would die a princess,” Valda confessed. “With all the wars I’ve fought, my mother always said goodbye fervently, thinking that I wouldn’t come back. She would ask Ouranos to bless me and keep me safe, but she would kiss my cheeks until she was sure that she would linger on my skin even after I left the safety of the castle.

Queen Rionach was an excellent queen. She put her people’s needs above her own. She worried about every single one of the villages and developed cities in this kingdom. I only pray that I will be half as good a ruler as she was. She worked so hard, alone and with a child. The weight of honoring that hard work is heavy, but hopefully bearable.”

Valda trailed her fingers upon her mother’s face until she touched cold, hard gold. The queen’s tiara made of glistening, pure gold, delicately crafted with intricate designs that called to mind the swirling patterns of wind-blown sand dunes, adorned with rare gems,rested on the queen’s head. Slowly, and as if she would damage the perfection that was her mother, Valda took the tiara in her hands and presented it to the soldiers and leaders of her kingdom. The tiara, although small, felt heavy in Valda’s hands.

Straightening her back, Valda closed her eyes and bowed her head at the delicate crown before her voice boomed and inundated the throne room’s silence.