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Queen Farah

Queen Farah hardly ever left her castle unless it was to meet her sisters or to break her own laws. Today she’d left the castle the moment the message had arrived.

A man, breathless and bloody, had shown up at her doors demanding an audience. He’d introduced himself as one of Queen Sienna’s guardsmen and they’d allowed him in for an urgent meeting with Queen Farah. The guard delivered one sentence that knocked the breath right out of Farah’s lungs.

Queen Sienna was dead.

Killed by the Fae, as the man had said, both frantic and fearful. The news had sent Farah’s heart plummeting into her stomach as she rushed to get dressed. She recognized that she should have felt some sort of mourning. Sienna was her sister after all, but she hadn't been the sibling she was closest to and she only seemed to have room to worry about herself.

Though the morning had started off rocky, making her moods feel wholly unstable, Queen Farah was excited to get to the Tower of Divinity. The road curved and up ahead she saw the tower rising over the tops of the trees. This meeting place for the queens was closest to Ambrose’s quadrant by the slightest fraction of a mile. They purposefully had the tower erected to be as close to an equal distance from their castles as it could be. Quite coincidentally, or perhaps it wasn't a coincidence at all, the tower had also been built upon the very sacrifices they’d made for this country. A place where wars were raged, battles won, and where they’d defeated King Rome.

Farah wondered every time her sisters came to the tower if they ever thought about what took place here. How could they not? Her mind raced back to events that had unfolded all too often.

Pulling up to the brick building, where the red was muted as if it had been bleached from the sun, Farah tapped her nails against the globe on top of the wooden staff she carried. Water sloshed wildly against the glass. This was her power. This was her gift from the gods.

Sienna’s staff rested in the seat next to her. Farah tried not to give it attention because if she did her mind would spiral and dread would fill her.

The door to her carriage eased open and the driver bowed, keeping his gaze cast down to the rocky drive. Pebbles were crushed under the toes of her high heels as Farah stepped out holding both staffs and passed the driver without a word. She didn’t have to wait for anyone to let her into the tower as the large circular door swung open when it recognized her power. The hinges whined before giving way to the view of the dark stairwell.

A breeze brought with it the smell of bittersweet magic that had been born, killed, and created in this very spot. Even when no one had been to this location in weeks it always still reeked of it.

Stairs twisted around the building to the single room at the top. She began to ascend, soaking in the final moments of silence that were only broken by the tapping of her heels on the stone and the scrape of her wooden staff.

When she reached the top there was another round wooden door with a brass knob. It was locked. It was always locked. Farah touched the tip of her staff to the door knob. It clicked loudly as the lock slid out of place. Letting herself inside, she was met by the four black thrones, each fashioned using the ash that had covered this land at one point, which sat in each corner of the room.

Opposite the door, a single mirror gave Farah a view of her expressionless face. Her brows pulled together. Someone had forgotten to pull the curtain closed. She held her own gaze as she crossed the room to the mirror only stopping to prop Sienna’s staff against her throne.

Farah always felt that she looked different than her siblings. She was the one who looked the least like their mother and the most like their father. While she shared the same golden skin tone and dark brown hair, her eyes were green and her nose was square. Oftentimes she marveled at the way her sister’s cheekbones cut across their faces when you could even hardly tell that she had cheekbones. Her face was almost ridiculously round. Too round. Farah hated that.

Red rubies sparkled back at her from where the light was hitting the top of her dress. For any normal outing, this dress would have been considered far too obnoxious. However, when it came to meeting with her sisters, the goal was always to dress to impress. Not to mention, Idalia always tried to claim the color red as hers. Farah much preferred green or even sometimes a nice deep navy blue. Still, she wore red to get under her sister’s skin.

Tap .

Farah arched a slender brow at her reflection.

Tap .

She smiled at herself as she felt the way her power recognized the magic making its way up the stairs toward her.

Tap .

Taking a hold of the red velvet material, she snapped the curtains closed, covering the mirror. She swiveled on her toes as the sounds came nearer and nearer. Her skin buzzed with excitement that sent a pulse up the staff and to the globe filled with clear waters. The water rippled as if a pebble had been cast upon its surface.

Tap .

Dark frizzy curls came into view first. A silver crown made with several sparkling emeralds nearly hidden within the mop of hair. Large doe eyes, framed by thick lashes, then a small pointed nose, and that wide wicked grin. Ambrose .

Tap .

Her sister’s staff, swirling with vines that pressed to the edge of the glass, hit the stone floor Farah was waiting for her on. They locked gazes.

Farah's chest swelled. This was it. This was her happy place. Ambrose was not only her sister but her very best friend. Since taking over her kingdom, they'd only gotten to spend a handful of moments together. Every time they parted, Farah felt as though she was sending off a piece of her heart.

"Farah," Ambrose breathed as she lifted her arms and crossed the room. Her ivy green dress hugged her body, thin slips of material falling off her shoulders. Sparkling ruby shoes—as if she also wanted to get at Idalia—poked out. She was beautiful. And she was here. That’s what mattered.

Farah's cheeks ached as a smile stretched from ear to ear. A long inhale filled her lungs only to be crushed out as they collided in one massive embrace. Farah's arms tightened around Ambrose. She was smaller than she remembered. Had she lost weight?

Slowly, Farah pulled away to examine her sister more closely. Her eyes were perhaps a little bit more sunken in, glassy and tinged red as if she'd been crying. The way Farah's hand could wrap around so much of her arm also surprised her. Yes, her sister looked like she'd begun to wither away.

She swiped her thumb across Ambrose's cheek before she pinched her chin and looked down at her. Ambrose may have been older but Farah was certainly taller.

"How are you?" Farah asked. "Really?"

"I'm great." Ambrose smiled but her eyes told an entirely different story. Farah noticed it and it formed a knot where her heart should be.

"Don't you dare lie to me. I can always tell when you're lying."

Ambrose's nervous laugh filled the small room. Farah followed her sister's gaze to where she'd pinned those large hazel eyes on Sienna's staff. Farah didn't think Ambrose had been particularly close to their sister, but she did understand one thing about her. Ambrose cared. She cared more than anyone else cared and that was why sometimes she seemed like she was off her rocker.

"You know, just normal things. Worried about this whole finding a king situation. My head's been whispering some scary things. Then there's poor Sienna. Did you even know she was in danger?"

Of course, Farah knew. Ambrose had known too. Did they do anything? No. Ambrose must have been beside herself when she received the news.

"What's the whispering all about?" Farah tried to avoid the question. They didn't really need to talk about that...not right now. Not yet.

"Same old, same old. Impending doom. Men with glowing fire eyes. And carnival games. Or maybe that last bit had been a dream?" Ambrose shrugged and pulled away from Farah to look around the tower.

"That all sounds more like a nightmare." Farah shivered. She knew that Sienna had hosted a carnival. Maybe that was why Ambrose was thinking and dreaming about one. The voices that spoke to Ambrose had been around for the last year. Since they'd gotten their magic.

Farah wondered if it was some consequence of it. Though the fact that their kingdom was on the verge of throwing them off their thrones might also be seen as a consequence. Another reason why Farah didn't like to leave her castle.

Ambrose nodded her agreement as she kept her attention on Sienna's staff and made her way to her own seat. A shadow stretched from the doorway into the room. Farah's gaze followed the dark curves all the way to the feet of the woman standing there.

Idalia narrowed her eyes at her sisters. Farah hadn’t even heard her arrive and now here she was. Her jaw pulsed as she clenched and unclenched her teeth. The fire at the top of her staff roared at a full blaze as if she'd poured oil onto it. That wasn't a good sign, Farah noted.

Farah was often skeptical of her eldest sister. She repeatedly had sent spies to attend any social gatherings Idalia held. She needed to keep an eye out to make sure she didn't get any ideas about taking land. Maybe Idalia knew and that was why she watched her with such intensity. Ambrose might seem like she was half out of her mind most days…but Idalia, well Farah was pretty sure she didn't even have a heart. She doubted her sister felt remorse or thought about anything other than herself.

The conversation that had been started was stopped as the eldest sister glided into the room and took her seat. Ambrose hadn't looked away from Sienna's staff and Farah was still standing, letting Idalia get a good look at her in the red gown.

Of course, Idalia too wore red. Blood red. Diamonds were arranged on the bodice and skirt to form little tear drops that only gave more of the illusion that the queen had swum in the blood of her enemies. And she had several of those. Perhaps even two of them were in this very room.

Farah could taste the tension between them as she finally made her way to her throne. She sat across the way from Sienna's empty seat and tried her best not to look at it. Sienna's staff sat against it, the power of it calling for her to take it on. She would too. Farah had already set her mind to it. No one else was leaving this room with that staff. Particularly not Idalia.

That magic. That power. That strength. All of it would be hers.

Idalia swept a strand of hair that had fallen over her shoulder, reaching all the way down to pool in her lap, behind her. Her lips parted as she took a small breath and released the tightness of her jaw. This only caused her brows to furrow as if Idalia didn't fully know how to relax. It looked strange when she forced herself to smile.

"Nothing changes," Idalia started.

But everything was changing , Farah thought as she gave her sister a calculated glare.

Ambrose finally cocked her head as she turned herself to the conversation. "We must still find kings?" Her voice made the question sound...distant and vague.

Idalia nodded. "All the events we have planned will stay planned."

With her staff propped in the small hole in her armrest, Farah's fingers curled against the throne. She wanted to reach for her staff but knew that would be seen as a terrible insult. There was enough war outside their walls.

"We will find kings. With or without Sienna we must still meet the needs of our country. We double the guard. Everywhere." Idalia bounced her gaze from one sister to the other.

Anger was already steaming up from the tips of Farah's toes and boiling inside of her stomach till it burned like acid in the back of her throat. Idalia had it all planned out. She didn't have any intention of asking either of them what they wanted. How typical. Farah was sure the plan was to meet whatever unspoken need Idalia had. That's how it had always been even before the magic. These staffs...these bits of power...had only made it worse.

"The Fae are coming," Ambrose muttered. "Fae will be everywhere. Or nowhere. They could be watching now."

Those voices were talking in Ambrose's head. Farah could tell by the way Ambrose's gaze went a little hazy. Ambrose, to her knowledge, never told Idalia about the voices. When Farah found out she had begged her to keep it a secret. If her sister was losing her mind she couldn't let anyone else take advantage of her. She wouldn't.

"We defeated the Fae once; we will do it again," Idalia said as if it had been that easy the first time. They’d lost everything to defeat the Fae. They’d lost the people they’d grown up with. Their family. Their home.

"And of the staff?" Farah finally spoke up. She held her sister’s gaze as it locked on her.

"I can take it back with me. For safe keeping."

"No," Farah said, too quickly.

Idalia's eyes widened a fraction and Farah could feel Ambrose's intense gaze shift to her. She smiled at their attention even though she could feel the way she wanted to retreat. She took her time letting each of her fingers relax from the grips of her chair and leaned back into the seat.

"I suppose you think that it should come with you?" Idalia purred. She too gave a little smile.

Farah wanted to slap that smile right off her gods damned face. That was the smile she'd always gotten when she got her way growing up. Farah wasn't sure what that meant now, only that it made her angrier.

"The Fae were just in Sienna's territory. We all know that my castle is closest to hers which means they are more likely to head my direction. I think it is only fair that I have both staffs to protect myself with. It makes sense." Farah looked to Ambrose to agree but Ambrose was staring off at the ground now, a finger twirling a loose curl. She was on her own for this.

"Plus," Farah made a show of picking at her nails, "I'm next to find myself a king. It just makes sense that I'm the next target and should then protect myself as such. Wouldn't want Sienna's power to go to waste like her corpse."

Ambrose frowned at that. Idalia's lips twitched but she managed to keep the smirk that bothered Farah so much. It was true though. They hadn't given Sienna a funeral. None of them had even bothered to go and look at her body. From what Farah had been told by the gasping messenger her body had been torn to bits, charred and singed. They couldn't really have salvaged that anyway.

"Fine." Idalia sighed and waved her hand. "Take the staff."

She knew Idalia expected her to say 'thank you' or something of her gratitude that she'd been given what she wanted. Farah kept those sorts of words tight behind her teeth. She was a queen too after all. Nothing made Idalia bigger or better than them. They shared Pasia in equal parts.

"Does anyone else know that Sienna is dead?" Idalia asked. She didn't bother with Ambrose who was now tipped back in her seat, her head tilted up to the ceiling.

What did she see up there? Farah chewed on her lip as she worried.

"I killed the messenger and sent warlocks to work on the memories of anyone who lived and witnessed anything. Though it sounds like that is few and far between. They're spinning stories that Sienna has gone off for vacation in the countryside for the time being."

"How odd," Idalia mused. "One would think that the Fae would want it to be broadcasted that one of us had fallen. Nevertheless, I think we should keep it between us."

"The story of Sienna's little vacation won't last forever."

"It will last long enough ."

Farah doubted that but didn't have the energy to fight with Idalia, not on this subject. Not as Ambrose flinched, then blinked rapidly, before she appeared to come back to reality.

"Sienna's staff is bad luck," Ambrose announced.

Idalia laughed. "I don't believe in luck."

Farah wondered if Bedesh, the god of luck, was snarling down at them right now. It wouldn't surprise her since in her experience the gods weren't all that kind.

Idalia rose from her throne. "Double your guard—"

"I've already sent troops to the border," Farah interjected.

"Double your guard. Find yourselves a king. Forget Sienna ever existed." Idalia reiterated before she swept through the room and began descending the stairs just as quickly as she had appeared.

Forget Sienna. That was Idalia's answer for everyone. For the people who had passed. Forget. Forget. Forget.

Farah couldn't forget. While she didn't so much care, she would never allow herself to forget. Even if the wicked mournful emotion never truly broke through the hard shell that surrounded her heart, she always remembered. She wanted to think that was something. It probably wasn't.

Ambrose let out a long exhale. "I don't want a husband."

"I know," Farah whispered as she watched the stairwell. When Idalia was truly gone she let go of the act she always put on for her eldest sister. Her shoulders were tight, nearly pulled up to her ears. She uncrossed her legs and one heel tapped against the floor as she bounced her leg. The edge of her teeth raked over her lip again, peeling at her skin.

"Are you taking the staff?" Ambrose asked, she smoothed her hands over her skirt.

"Yes."

"It will kill you," Ambrose said with sudden sobriety.

"Why do you say that?" Farah's leg was really bouncing now. Anxiety was flowing through her body the more she thought about the Fae leaking into their kingdom and the husband she would have to endure.

"The voices said that." She kept her voice soft, barely even a whisper, but it still managed to echo in the room, even echoing in Farah's mind.

Farah was worried about her sister. The voices were worsening and she didn't know what she should do. What could she do?

"Have you had a warlock look into your mind?" Farah asked.

Ambrose shook her head and her one misplaced curl bounced against her cheek. "I don't want them to have access. That feels like..."

Farah jumped in as her sister trailed off. "An invasion. Like you're giving up part of your power and leaving yourself vulnerable."

"Yes."

The sisters might be totally different from one another but they all were the same at their core. Rotten. Greedy. Desperate for power. It hadn't started that way. It'd all been so innocent at first. How did they get to this point?

She already knew the answer but Farah didn't want to admit it. Not out loud. Not to herself. Not ever.

Pushing up off the arms of the throne, she stood and made her way to Ambrose. Farah smiled and cupped her sister’s cheek. Ambrose looked up at her and grinned, leaning into the touch. That smile quickly faded as her gaze fogged.

Gods, Farah hated what was happening to her sister’s mind.

"The voices are getting worse," Farah stated plainly.

Ambrose gently pulled her sister's hand away and clasped her fingers in her own. She pressed a small kiss against her knuckles. "The voices are the least of my worries." She stood and wrapped Farah up in another hug.Her breath tickled at Farah's ear. "This will be our last goodbye unless our fortunes change. Know that I love you."

A shiver danced down Farah's spine and spread into goosebumps that chased over her skin. Ambrose wasn't just speaking out of fear...

She had given Farah an omen of death.