Lizzie of the North (Yrsoreth Chronicles 2)

33 ◦✿◦ The Three Royal Idiots

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ

Lizzie, who had a piece of sanity left, quickly returned the letter in the envelope. With no pocket nor satchel, she inserted in the gaps of her collar, forcing it down to her chest.

Then she exited the office, only to freeze at the sight of Devanti Norvillon by the door about to enter. Of the times she was excited to meet her father, this was not it.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes squinted like a magnifying glass, in search of the cause of horror on her face.

And after sucking in air, she spoke. "Papa... I wish these peaceful days with you would last. Viva peace."

"You're not fine," he declared, cupping her cheeks and checking her pale face.

"I am not. I'd like to rest early, my head hurts."

Devanti studied her, but she actually looked like she could pass out any moment. "I'll call the doctor."

She hugged him like she was still a child then hurried to her room.

That same night, Lizzie was plagued with visits from the doctor and her maids fussing over her like she had no hands to lift the spoon. But she had to look the part, so that they have to leave let her rest as early as possible.

And finally, alone, she was cradled and almost buried in Honey's resting body, instead of the bed. Her legs outstretched on the carpet with the letter raised, hindering the twin moons.

"...all-out war..." Her voice trailed off, along with the gentle caress of the breeze from the open terrace door.

Compared to her father's angry and violent handwriting that terrifies the receiver, the emperor's was like a work of art. It was such perfect penmanship that carried such an ominous future.

But if she explained it well, her father might understand. "Honey, what will I do?"

A soft growl was the humongous monster's response, its tail caressed her face. 

After her short contemplation, Lizzie swallowed back her filtered illusion.
No, impossible. Devanti is a good ruler but he was stubborn. Gods, he was. Although Norvillon is small, it has a capable military power, tamed beasts included, and wealth that could challenge the empire.

Will we win?

There's a chance, but slim. Unless, they will seek the support of the Levich empire who forged great relations with the kingdom, thanks to Erdan's diplomacy. Or, they could ally with the militant kingdom of Syl Zulibar.

But to do that, she had to accept the invitation to be its crown prince's fiancee candidate. It wouldn't even be certain that she'd be crowned queen or end up as a consort. Especially now that talks of reconciliation between its warring city-states for years through marriage, her chance of becoming queen slipped lower.

Either way, she wished the people she had never met the best. "Viva peace, indeed."

Aside from the prince's reputation of ruthlessness, probably worse than the males around her, she didn't want to live in a place where people eat the heart of their enemies for breakfast.

Although sometimes, Orna's news was exaggerated, they were founded on truth.

Syl Zulibar is out of the option.

In deep thought, her habit resurfaced. And now that she was wracking her brain more than she was trying to survive years ago, her toes peeking through the nightgown, wriggled like they had their own lives.