One Heart

28. Figurehead

Sorah looked forward to the informal, more frivolous part of the evening. The almost-literal party of the century, a royal coronation was a highly anticipated and well celebrated event.

She sat perched on Kensie's lap, her cumbersome greatsword slung over the back of her throne, and was thankful for the well-understood reputation that a queen and her Ahein Rah held. It made it easier to be so openly affectionate. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

Kensie smiled. "More like myself," she said. "As wonderful as those feelings were, I'm glad I've returned to normal. They were rather distracting."

"Mmm," Sorah agreed, finding the giddy demeanour strange. After a moments silence, she changed the subject. "Should we go mingle? I see your parents over there, and it looks like Josh is blushing over that girl again." She dropped to the ground, pulling on Kensie's hand.

Sorah noticed the way Kensie clutched at her waist every time she moved. And the way she stayed close by her side, alert to any who could mean her harm. She made an effort to mingle amongst her people, to show them who their queen was and why she deserved to rule, while Kensie relaxed only in the company of those she knew and trusted.

As Sorah chatted to the patriarch of the Vesser family, one of the top families in their society, Kensie relaxed further and engaged in the conversation, allowing herself to trust in those she had known for many years. Though deep in discussion, her senses were always alert to her surroundings, a habit borne from her time as a warrior, and reignited by her need to protect her queen. As a heated discussion on the other side of the hall began to increase in intensity, she pulled Sorah closer and surrounded her.

"Why do we need her anyway?" As the man's voice echoed throughout the hall, Sorah's ears perked as she concentrated on the disruption. "We've gone the last thirty years without a queen and have survived. She's just a figurehead!"

A low growl escaped Kensie's throat. It was barely audible, yet loud enough to have Sorah turn in her arms and gaze up at her.

"It's okay. If he gets too out of hand I'll deal with it myself."

Kensie scowled. "Absolutely not. That's why we have guards."

Sorah scrunched up her face and shook her head while the drunken rant continued to sound throughout the hall.

"...just a little girl. Who is she to tell me how to live? Am I just supposed to believe that she is strong? I bet she couldn't even beat me in battle!" His voice travelled toward Sorah and Kensie in booming waves, spurred on by liquid confidence.

Sorah pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and lifted her gaze. "Do you trust me?"

Kensie's chest jolted with a silent huff of laughter. "It's not you I don't trust." She closed her eyes, clenched her jaw, and drew a deep breath through her nose and into her lungs. As she opened them, her dark eyes swirled with fear. "But yes. I do."

Sorah lifted a hand to Kensie's cheek and swept upward to smooth out the crease in her brow. "Please don't worry so much. Fear doesn't suit you."

"I never had a reason for it till I found you."

That alone was enough to break Sorah's heart. Ninety six years was a long time to live with nothing to fear. Nothing to live for. And she knew it was the truth, not merely a hollow sentiment.

Her attention wavered as three Lionhearts approached and awaited orders. "I'm going to go speak to the happy gentleman on the other side of the hall," Sorah said. "Let me handle it, but be on guard to take over if necessary." They nodded and followed her into the crowd.