The Threads of Destiny [BRIEF HIATUS]

Prologue

Of all the physical and social places and positions that Inara Attabar thought she would find herself at her twenty-four years of age, kneeling before the feet of Elmuth's king was not one of them. Yet here she was on her knees before him, having walked the aisle of the onyx-clad throne room with her twin brother, who also knelt beside her, an ornate milk-white offering box in his hands, as per Elmuth's Tradition of Conquest.

"Your Imperial Majesty," her and Avaram's voices rang in unison, echoing in the large stone space.

"Stand." The king ordered, his command gentle but firm in his baritone voice.

Swiftly, smoothly, they rose. Inara's gaze quickly travelled from the white marble floor to the king's regal features. He sat like a statue upon his enormous black throne, his back pin straight, his palms resting on bird and snake heads carved into the seat's armrests. He lifted his right hand from a carved bird head and motioned them to step closer, his olive face neutral but his brown eyes warm.

Inara stepped onto the dais with her brother, and the king rose to embrace her in his arms. Though long past his prime, those arms still held the strength of a well-trained soldier, and Inara struggled to fully envelop his muscular width in her arms. His hair, more salt than pepper, was thick and smelled faintly of bergamot. When he pulled away, Inara could see wrinkles around his eyes accentuated by a smile that showed perfectly white teeth peeking out of a groomed beard and moustache. She returned his beam.

"My daughter, you've grown even more beautiful." He stepped back and took her in with his gaze, the movement of his head made the ruby-encrusted circlet on his brow sparkle in the warm light.

"Your Majesty is too kind," she inclined her head, "though slightly premature."

"Nonsense," the king waved a dismissive hand, "your marriage to Davio is all but finalized. Even disregarding that, you deserve a family after all you have lost."

Of all things that Inara Attabar thought she would hear by her age of twenty-four, this from Erasmo Pavoricci the Fourth of Elmuth was not one of them. She looked over at her brother and exchanged a small, sad smile with him.

"I have not lost all," she turned to the king.

"Of course not, you have Avaram" the king nodded at her twin before turning back to her, "and you will always have me and mine. Never doubt that."

He squeezed her arm reassuringly before moving on to greet Avaram. When he called him "son," Inara's insides clenched, whether in guilt or shame, she did not know.

She forced her eyes away from them, tuning out their pleasantries and focusing on the empty thrones before her. The king's throne was one of two, the other identical to it save for the white colouring where the king's was black. Flanking the two chairs were two guards in all white armour, Elmuth's lily crest fashioning their breastplates. Inara smiled and nodded at both of them, just in time for Erasmo to sit back down. His posture, like an ice sculpture thawing, was more relaxed now, but no less regal.