Balam: Virgo the Pure (Trials of the Zodiac Book 2)

THE THRONE ROOM

BALAM

Walking around a battlefield was sadly not a foreign concept for me. The palace had been cleaned, and cloves had been burned to mask the smell of death. Little of what remained of the king had been buried in the night without a ceremony. There wasn't a drop of blood to be found on the grounds. The maids and the priest had done well in their job of cleaning and purifying the area. Still, there were signs of what had happened here: the crack in the stone from Queen Sigrid's blade had not been repaired.

Beyond the visible damage, there was the emotional toll. Zakhar had been forced onto the throne not more than six days ago, and since then, he had held himself up in his room. We had been given places to sleep by the castle attendance. The rooms were beautiful; each had paintings of gods as the focal point. Even though there was the war, the giants still had respect for their gods, specifically the Vanir who created them.

News of the battle had spread, and Zakhar had looked to me to direct the giants who came to the castle looking for orders. I relied heavily on Priest Alvis, formerly a high-ranking advisor to the Council of Generals, to help me. For the last few days, my friends and I spent hours in the throne room, answering questions and receiving a fair bit of scrutiny for being there in place of the king.

Today had trudged on, most of it spent getting advisors to listen to the orders Zakhar had conveyed to me in the morning. I walked to the grand bedroom where Zakhar was staying. The doors were made from solid gold and towered over a hundred feet above me. There was a crack just big enough for me to squeeze through. Once inside the room, I assessed Zakhar, who sat at his father's desk. Zakhar didn't notice me. I was the size of a child in comparison to him in his giant form. He was unguarded, reading over scrolls in a language he had just learned.

Priest Alvis had given him a hundred scrolls created by Zakhar's ancestor, the third Queen of Vanaheim. They were guides to leading the country. Each monarch added to them with their thoughts and notes. Hopefully, Zakhar would one day show them to his children.

"How is the reading going?" I asked.

Zakhar looked down at me, startled at my sudden appearance. After catching his breath, he ran a hand over the parchment, "I'm reading my grandfather's notes on trade. Do you know that we have the largest gold mine in the cosmos? He said we should trade only ten percent of what we gather yearly."

"Why only ten percent?" I inquired while looking at the state of his room. His bed was still unmade; blankets made from mammoth fur lay crumpled on the floor. He wouldn't allow the maids inside to clean. He mentioned that it felt weird to have people doting on him.

We had talked that first night. He cried most of it, but he told me about his past. He was an orphan, taken in by a goblin. His whole life had been filled with physical and mental abuse. That made me want to shield him, even when it caused everyone around me to give me weird looks. Rashid was the only person who understood why I was staunchly in Zakhar's defense.

"He said an oracle had foretold a prophecy of our people needing an abundance. The oracle said there would be a great cataclysm that could only be stopped by weapons of gold." Zakhar scratched his head and then rubbed his dark-rimmed eyes. He needed a break; his eyes weren't used to reading under candlelight.

The pounding of footsteps outside urged me forward. Heavy hands collided with the door, followed by Priest Alvis's voice. "King Zakhar, may I come inside?"

"Yes," he said, giving me a look. I tried to seem as happy as possible, hoping some of the energy would rub off on him.

Priest Alvis strolled inside with his head bowed. He wore gray robes that smelled of the cloves he had burned at sunrise in mourning. He would do it for the following year. We would need an official funeral, but I was too nervous that I might trigger Zakhar to suggest one. The priest was tall, well over thirty feet, and he was Giant Born from what I could gather, only able to grow to that height even though he looked well over a thousand years old.