LiTtLe TyPeWrItEr

Chapter 3

It’s scary to only hear your heart beating when the world around you is slowly fading away. It feels as if the world doesn’t want you in it. Why? Because the council detests a female rule. The council is the world, and no one can disagree. That’s the frightening part. 

No one dares to oppose them, and many say the monarchy is just a mask that takes the fall for the council’s mistakes. No one realizes that there’s a difference between respect and cowardice. No one notices that they, the people, are the representatives of cowardice, blindly following and doing everything the council says. 

And when they stray away from the carefully written life they created; you die. Whether in spirit or not is your choice. It’s your only choice. 

You let them dictate life and the world starts to slip away. 

....

“There’s no pulse.” 

No one cries. 

“I’m sorry for your loss...” 

No one speaks. 

“There’s no heir.” 

Everyone wonders how they got to this point. 

Each council member stares at the floor. There’s no way to recover from this. First Escher, then Dana and now Serein? How could they let this happen...?  

....

“I know who we can crown-” Jeremie said quietly, slowly standing up to look over everyone. 

“That’s quite humorous of you, Jeremie.” Orberynn snickered.  “The monarchy’s dead, you pinhead.” 

“We all know that’s a blatant lie. I overheard my father speaking of a Kalon Zaveri-” 

“Bite your tongue, boy.” Macros hissed as he glared at his son. “I mentioned that she’s the daughter of a famous seamstress, I doubt that she is relevant to the task at hand...” 

“You expect us- the council- to believe you just mentioned her name out of nowhere whilst discussing Queen Serein’s death?” Jeremie challenged. “You said it yourself that she has thelegal grounds to the crown.” 

Macros went red in the face, that child would be the death of me. 

....

Kalon Zaveri. 

Kalon of Sahar. 

That was all you could hear in every street and in every house in Neanch. The people question things. They ask the questions that the council would rather not respond to. 

Kalon from the unknown corner of the world was meant to take over as queen. 

....

Ever since she turned six, she wanted to be here. Fran, Noah and her always played pretty princess growing up with two princes and one queen. Kalon ruling her bedroom and the boys trying to ‘win’ her hand in marriage- which was celebrated in the garden with Sealle as their minister.  

She dreamt of being in a society where she could wear grand and stunning gowns, have excellent manners and being courted. That was her dream, a dream she could never reveal for it would break Sealle’s heart that the one girl she was entrusted with would want to leave. A betrayal that would never be forgiven. 

Kalon was quiet and shy, everyone thought she was really and truly the daughter of the seamstress. They were the carbon copy of each other, the only difference being her eye colour. Why wouldn’t they be really the mother and daughter? Kalon clung to Sealle as though her life depended on it whenever someone came to visit, and the most revealing thing of all; she called her “mummy”. Although it was quite a Neachen thing to call your mother mummy, everyone dismissed it and used it to keep their rumor well fed. 

Some people thought it peculiar and didn’t follow along with the rest of the people. How could a four-year-old child suddenly appear out of nowhere and be the daughter of a woman who hasn’t left the village for 10 years? These people stared at the child; their faces filled with curiosity. 

“Mummy, why do they stare? I thought it was impolitely to stare...” Kalon would tug on her foster mother’s skirt. 

“It is impolite to stare but some people don’t know any better.” Sealle whispers in return and lifts the child to rest on her hip. “It makes people uncomfortable and that’s why I taught you not to do so.” 

“Is it because I’m a Zaveri? We’re the only Zaveris here and there are 3 different Pellegrinis at my school-” 

“Do take a breath Kalon, I don’t know how you expect me to keep up with you sometimes...” Sealle shakes her head. “I think we should wait until you’re a bit older before exploring your marvelous theory. For now, I’m afraid, standing tall and ignoring them will have to do.” 

“Now, what do you say we go and grab some of those delicious pastries that Mrs. Dawnvay loves to make?” Sealle continues as she gently lowers Kalon back to the ground, she was getting heavy after all. 

The thing that caught the world by surprise was Kalon, now 36-years-old, leaving the place she called home to become a Queen. The Queen of Neanch. 

There was a lot of crying the night they found out. Fran didn’t even come home, 16-year-old Noah locked himself in his room. Kalon however, was screaming at the top of her lungs at Sealle. Her face full of tears and head in her hands, Sealle couldn’t even face her. 

“Why didn’t you tell me-” Kalon stopped mid-sentence, “Is this why you wouldn’t let me leave for my apprenticeship?”  

“No one could know, Kalon. We could’ve been killed if I told you, or anyone for that matter. You need to understand-” 

“No. I’m done understanding; you’ve always told me secrets only create burdens and her you are, holding a life changing one. You’re a hypocrite like the rest of them.”  

“Kalon, you must understand. As your mother, I had the duty to protect you...” Sealle stood up and reached for Kalon but she was immediately shrugged away. 

“Mother? You're not my mother no matter how much you’d like to pretend. You’re not her Sealle.” Kalon hissed. Sealle started to tear up again, she called her Sealle she never called her that. 

Kalon sunk onto the sofa, bawling like a child. Sealle wrapped her arms around Kalon. 

“Everything’s going to be okay, butterfly. Everything is going to be just fine.” That’s all the older woman could say, even though in her heart she knew it wasn’t true.