The Ruler's Rift

Give What Cannot be Received

Celeste tightened her sash and adjusted her crown. Like a tiara, it rested in front of her horns. Before the mirror, she and her bothersome assistants worked on her hair. She refused makeup - her markings were beautiful enough on their own. "Hurry, please. I'm going to be late," she said. The day had passed quickly and although she'd gotten little sleep, she'd have to attend the dance.

Finally, an assistant made her regalia presentable. He brushed off the black velvet and polished each golden scale and chain. He sang, "Finished! You look enchanting, my queen!"

"I always do," Celeste teased as she rushed into the hallway. She barely recognized the ballroom. As always, it was tall and open - like a cathedral hall - but the guests and lighting brought new life to its glorious visage. Late into the magical night, thousands danced and chatted as a purple glow shimmered from sconces and lanterns above. Through the huge windows, Celeste saw even more guests in the courtyard. Everywhere, darkness was decorated by haunting lights and the essence of a good time.

She was late after all. That didn't stop her from being swarmed by eager subjects, though. She politely evaded them and made her way to Amber, who had never looked more like a princess. "Wow, what a glow up," the empress trilled to the assassin. Amber's leather and armored garb had been replaced with a deep red dress, and her hair was curled and tied into a partial updo. A scarlet flower decorated the golden strands. Celeste eyed the impressive hairdo and continued, "I didn't know they did yours, too."

Amber turned to her niece, drink in hand. "Huh? Oh, I did this myself," she said.

Celeste nearly choked. "Really? It looks better than mine!"

"I don't know about that!"

Celeste laughed and looked at Amber's glass. "Okay, where do I get some of that champagne? Someone already wanted me to hold their kid for a photo."

"Over there," Amber said, pointing to a chef-tended table. "But hey, try to be patient with them. It's not every day they get to see the queen herself, heh."

Mimicking the chuckle, Celeste went to the table. She sighed. Attention was her best friend, but she never had to hold people's weird babies at the circus. She carefully passed the Leafleffish pianist on her way to the champagne, but was intercepted by a group of guests who seemed interested in telling her their life stories. It took all her will, but she brought herself to listen. What she expected to be boring blabbering turned out as quite a discussion, and the joy in their faces glistened under the glow of fancy lanterns. Even in that small group, that tiny sample size, they differed. One was a mage who boasted about adventures and the thrill of being free, and another, the mage's brother, was an architect who hoped to someday work for Celeste and improve her palace.

She entertained their questions and asked some of her own, finding herself genuinely interested. She was even the slightest bit sad when they went outside. As they melted into the crowd, merging with the song of the piano and the mutterings of guests, the queen overlooked the crowds. Perhaps they weren't a hoard, or a mass, or a sea. Although she struggled, Celeste started to see them as individuals.

She shook her head, hair and jewelry swaying, as she poured herself a glass of champagne at last. She'd have all week to reflect; now wasn't the time for such deep thinking.

Yet, more thoughts came as she sipped her drink. They were of a different breed but equally burdensome. Watching the couples - their feet moving in sync, hands clasped, noses touching - weighed heavy on the demon's heart. She doubted she'd ever forget that soft, red fur or those squishy paw pads. Lucy had a wonderful smile, too. It was so warm that it managed to mask the coldness of her attitude. Celeste looked around. Even this ballroom, despite its guests and new decor, was designed by Lucy. Celeste was still in her cage.