The Prince and the Snake Charmer (currently editing)

The Prince and the Snake Charmer -26-

~~Queen Ambrosia~~

When her young son uttered the words, they echoed off the marble pillars of the Throne Room. Queen Ambrosia was silent as a statue, looking pointedly back and forth between Silone and the girl, trying to picture them as future King and Queen. The girl, Devora, was not regal looking, her body thin and boney from malnutrition and her cheeks smudged with earth. Her face, pointed and angular, reminded Queen Ambrosia of the Leonian people; smaller builds but fierce, sharp features. For a moment, unease slithered down her spine, watching the girl whose face looked harshly familiar to a man whom Queen Ambrosia never wanted to think of again. But then, as she noticed her son wrap an arm around the girls shoulder and holding her close to his body, she realized that to deny him this girl would be a sore mistake.

"Well then, what have you to say?" she asked Devora, who had begun to fidget, eyes wandering all over the place. She looked a bit lost in her own mind and the Queen had to repeat the question to get her attention.

Quickly, she seemed to snap back to focus, looking back and forth from the Queen and her son, an unsure expression crossing her face. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to speak but couldn't find the right words. What came out was a jumbled mess of vowels and quickly, flushing with embarrassment, shut her mouth tight, turned on her heel and fled.

-----

Devora ran blindly through the castle corridors whose ceiling reached high above her head, windows filtering soft afternoon light. As she sprinted down a wide hallway lined with a woven bloodred carpet, a few guards gave her curious looks from beneath their helmets. Hearing the sound of someones pursuit, likely Silas, pounding after her, she took a hard turn down a hallway and opened the first door her eyes fall upon.

The room was dark, almost pitch black with small cracks of light bursting behind the broken seams of heavy curtains that shadowed the tall windows. The floor beneath her feet was icy cold, but Devora didn't care at the moment. Leaning back against the wall, she slid down slowly, tears cascading over her face, until she sat on the coolness of the tiles. Putting her head between her knees, she tried to think. But she found she couldn't, for a single word kept repeating itself over and over again.

Queen.

She couldn't deny it. If she agreed to stay with Silas, it was what she was to become.

"Queen Devora of Harbin," she spoke out loud, voice slicing through the black silence. It was strange, hearing her name adorned with such a title. It wasn't a terrible thing, she realized as the name rolled off her tongue, but it felt so foreign. Devora tried to picture herself adorned in the Queens Golden crown, standing tall with the elegance of a white swan, but the picture blurred together in her mind, colors running together until it washed away the satin dress, the gold and the glamor, leaving a young circus girl in wake. What she truly was; like a faerie torn from its glamour. With a horrible thought, she realized she could never be a Queen as regal, as delicate and as dainty as Queen Ambrosia. She wouldn't be able to sit tall on a throne, lips pressed together in silence as her husband dictated all the rules. It would kill her.

But what would she have without Silas? A snake whose voice only she could hear?

If she went back to the circus, Esmerelda said she could keep her booth open, that she could travel with the rest of the circus. But as she thought more about this, going back to a life on the hard, icy roads where no one had enough cloth to shield their own bodies from the grieving winters. Where most folk cast her away with sideways glances. Of course, she could travel with the other strange folk like Carton the Giant and the Angel Boy, though it seemed Devora would be unhappy without Marena by her side.

She had nowhere to go if she didn't become Queen. A girl her age wouldn't be able to wander the roads alone without severe misfortune. Devora hadn't been told tales of young girls who dared to brave the long roads by themselves for no reason and even traveling with circus had it's troubles.

"Help me Laverne," she whispered, wiping her eyes.

Laverne slithered from his hiding spot, coiling around her good arm, lifting his neck so their eyes could meet, his own glowing serenely in the off-darknes.

"You have two choices, Devora," he said, scarlet tongue darting between the crevice of his mouth, "You can only choose one. But before you choose one rashly over the other, think about something you cherish, something that will help you carry through the rest of your life and then, when you can picture yourself with that entity, you'll finally be able to choose wisely," and with that, he bowed his head and slid back into slumber.

Devora was quiet for the next few minutes, rummaging through her brain, trying to find the one thing that could make her feel like life was worth living. But before she could make a choice, she felt the presence of someone standing over her in the darkness.