The Shadows Behind The Throne

1

Masquerades were boring.

She'd come to that conclusion many years ago. They were nothing but pomp and opulence, where nobles attempted to show off their wealth. Complete, of course, with uncomfortable dresses and powdered faces wearing false smiles.

As though there weren't better things to spend money on.

"Espanza." King Alveron cleared his throat.

She met his gaze. Lounging against the throne, he almost looked normal. His face was the perfect mask of seriousness, with only the sparkle in his grey eyes giving away his amused exasperation.

But his face was a little too pale, and his body a little too gaunt. "Father."

He nodded towards the hundreds of twirling dancers and gossiping nobles before them, the gesture barely noticeable. "Must I remind you every time?"

"Kaer always—"

The king raised his finger, silencing her. Any trace of his amusement had disappeared. "They will be your people. Not his."

She looked down. The marble tiles were pearly white, veined with whisps of grey. "But is every time really necessary?"

Seconds passed. Espanza glanced back towards the king. His thumb was scratching the white stubble on his chin, his eyes glazing over as he stared out into the distance.

Shifting her weight, she glanced around the throne room. There really were people everywhere. Waltzing together on the make-do dance floor or chattering amongst each other; their extravagant gowns and robes a stark contrast to the plain black and white curtains draped over the walls.

Even as she watched, her brother slowly made his way through the crowd, his silver wolf mask instantly recognisable. Small crowds gathered around him, and even from afar, she could glimpse his perfectly manicured smile as he greeted each.

He made it look easy.

Espanza sighed.

"Espa," her father shook his head slowly, drawing her attention back towards him. "How can you expect the people to respect you, if you don't even bother to spend time with them?"

Don't even bother? But she did. Oh, the countless times she had strived to mimic Kaer! Each attempt had left her feeling like an absolute fool; a stranger in her own body. Sure, she had slowly gotten better, no longer embarrassing herself to the same extent, but... she felt no strong desire to rush out and face the crowd any more often than necessary!

No doubt it was easy for him to say as much. He'd barely interacted with the crowd at all the past couple of months. She gritted her teeth, staring pointedly at him, then the throne he was sitting on.

He abruptly dropped his gaze. Collapsed into his seat.

Sudden shame gripped her, and she cringed. Stepped back. Stared at that spot where the golden silk of her dress pooled onto those shiny white marble tiles. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the words catching in her throat. "I shouldn't have..."

The king stood up slowly, leaning against the throne as he did so.

"If I could spend more time with them," his voice was hoarse, barely audible over the murmur of the crowd. "I would."

~

Her father still hadn't returned.

Espanza grimaced, tearing her gaze away from the vacant throne. The orchestra had played five pieces since his abrupt departure—and none of them had been short, either.