Crimson Throne

Chapter Seven

Father's office hadn't changed in the months since I'd been away. My fingers ran across the wooden desk as I imagined all the kings who had sat behind it. One day I would join them.

I heard his footsteps before he entered his office, taking a seat across the room near the fire. It was his favorite place in the palace other than a noble woman's bed. Taking the seat across from him, I stated, "She's different, isn't she?"

"Spitting image of her father, almost as if Phillip is still moping around the palace." He rolled his eyes, my eyes, as he rubbed his thumb and index finger together. It was a nervous habit I'd only recently noticed, but I never questioned.

"Phillip was a dear friend. I don't think I'd say he moped around, father. If you lost me and mom, wouldn't you morn us?" My eyebrow raised, turning my attention to the fire.

"Well your cousin could rule and me and your mom are complicated..." He trailed off, his eyes crinkling in the corner as he laughed. These were rare times when we could laugh with one another, but I never knew how long it would last. Finally meeting my gaze, he asked, "How were the Gaterlands? I trust the war is going well."

"We're winning, but at what cost? I don't even understand this war. We can't afford it, families are losing their sons and before we know it no women are going to be producing children...How many more men can we send to go fight? I mean, look at me," I sat up, motioning to my still sore and bruised leg as well as the scars now lining my arms.

"They disrespected us as a country, that is all you need to know, and you're a Marat. You were born to fight. We grow restless if there isn't constant warfare."

"Is that what Grandpa Cornelius told you as you went to bed?"

"Maybe..."

"You're as foolish as the women at court, Your Majesty," I responded, going to stand at making my leave, he reached out grabbing my arm.

I stopped, meeting his eyes as he said, "Keep her close."

"Why, father?" My eyebrows furrowed as I shook out of his grip. He didn't say anything, he just shook his head as he took a sip of his freshly poured glass. I knew the man to be cryptic, but this was a whole new level. Rolling my eyes and walking into the hallway, I just assumed it had something to do with mom. She made it her own personal mission to mess with the king's head, it was a wonder she hadn't been beheaded at this point. I liked to believe father secretly liked it.

Brushing passed several servants, I hardly noticed when I found my way to my mother's parlor. Her guards were placed outside her door, but I knew better than to assume that they were for her protection. Pushing the door open without a second glance from the guards, I found her behind her own desk, signing papers. One day my queen would be doing the same. One day it could be-

"How was your little boat ride across my little sea? You know, your father still thinks he owns those waters." Cora Marat set her quill down, careful not to stain any of the freshly signed papers as she emerged from behind the mahogany desk. Kissing my cheek, she motioned for us to sit on the loveseat.

"Where are Ava and Saahira?" Mother was a talker, so I was surprised to not find them still speaking. She also enjoyed feeding people and giving them expensive bottles of wine, especially when they're family friends, so I glanced around the room, half-expecting Ava to pop out from under the desk.

"Saahira was eager to return to Jamal and you know Ava, she can't stay still for more than five minutes. I'm sure she's wandering the gardens by now," she responded, pouring me a glass of tea. It was tea from her home country, but unfortunately, I could never remember the name. Her language was difficult, so I never fully learned it, I could only pick up on words and phrases. Half of my childhood was confusing considering she never yelled at father in the common language.