A wine goblet almost smacked Atarah on the forehead. She ducked in time as it smashed against the glass door behind her, "Henry, control your liquor.", she yelled towards the table on the far right, just a foot away from the Royal table. Atarah walked down the aisle, her hair a tangled mess and her face covered in mud. The red cape was back in its place, and her rifle was nowhere to be seen. She stopped as she reached the long horizontal table set for the king and bent her knee. "Your majesty," she said, looking at the floor.
A middle-aged man with a diamond crusted gold crown on his bald head, occupied the middle chair. His left side was empty, while his right was occupied by the advisor. The king held a goblet, and stood up.
"Quiet down, everyone." he yelled in the dining hall. His voice reached every corner, Atarah stood up and felt the room suddenly turning over. It was quiet, all eyes on her, all ears on the king.
"Today, we sow our sorrows in the lands of Gliala. Today, my dear niece, your crown princess returns victorious from another war." He stopped, waiting for the court to erupt in a harmonious cheer.
As they did.
He raised his goblet towards the chandelier, and the court hushed again.
"TODAY WE FEAST ON OUR REVENGE AGAINST ANTARES." This time, his voice reverberated from the corners, and the hall erupted again. The king took his chair and drank till the last drop.
"Congratulations, my dear. You have made us all proud, enjoy." He smiled warmly at her. Atarah noticed the chip in his front teeth and wondered if he ever forgave her for that. "Thankyou, your Majesty." She bowed again, and turned around, leaving the hall. Her robe flailing behind her, the scenes from the war playing on a loop, the bruises on her limbs slowed her walk and the stab wound on her shoulder stinged as she wondered where she misplaced her dear rifle.
Her room was the same as she had left three days ago. Messy. Atarah had ordered the servants not to enter her room while she was away. She hated when she couldn't find things on time. She hated when they cleaned it, removing all traces of human life. Atarah unhooked the robe, she thought about how Astara was still on the battlefield, helping the soldiers with the dead. Stripping, Atarah hopped inside the warm shower, draining out the images of the farmers laughing around the harvested crops. She wondered if the vision was a dream or a reality, a time when Gliala was a livable haven for everyone, including the Elvi.
Elvi was the witches, born with the Sun's magic. They were the healers and helpers, the bakers and builders. They helped the kingdom progress a lot faster, but after the Mage war the Elvi were killed and forced out of Gliala, seeking shelter in Antares and Sargas, the diamond kingdom. The Lura, evil witches, ravaged Gliala, 22 years ago, screaming for revenge while trampling on humans. Lura was responsible for her parent's death, the one revenge Atarah had never taken, the one revenge she planned every night before sleep.
Her thoughts were interrupted when someone knocked on the bathroom door. "Yes?" Atarah yelled over the sound of the water pressure.
"Your highness, the king's advisor, Delroy is here to see you." Elaxai's muffled voice came from behind the door. What does he want? Atarah thought, "I'll be right out.
She answered and turned off the shower.
Delroy the most annoying person in the kingdom was gazing out at the semi circular balcony. His hands behind hi back, light blue robes were old-fashioned, just as he likes. Atarah sometimes wonderd what he hid underneath the robes. His weirdly shaped eyebrows always creeped her out.
Delroy turned around when he heard the bathroom door closing. Atarah was in her bathrobe, a while towel wrapped on her head. "My apologies, your highness, i know you must be exhausted from the battle. I only wish for a word with you." he walked slowly towards the desk and took the velvet chair, Atarah sat at the head of the desk and let him continue.
"As you know, the memorial service is coming up and with the crown prince's sudden demise, you are the hier to the throne. There is alk among the court about the king remarrying , and-"
"If it's just talk, leave it at that." Atarah cut him off, she knew where he was going with this. Delroy was the longest-serving advisor of this kingdom. He whad been serving her grandfather and now her uncle, she always wondered, for a man with secrets and lies about the royal family , he had never taken a step towards the throne.
"You realize the king is marrying for an heir. I promised your father to look after you. I promised him your birthright." He looked serious.
Atarah fold her arms, her shoulder stung, and she unfolded them, staring at the man who has served two kings.
"Tell me Delroy, do you have greed for the throne?" Atarah asked bluntly, knowing it was treason to even bring up a coup as a subject. She wanted to see how he reacts, she wanted to know why her father trusted him and why she couldn't.
"That's absurd. My loyalty is to the throne, no matter who sits upon it." he got up, scraping the chair, hurrying for the door. Atarah smirked behind his back, getting the answer. Before he could exit her room, Atarah stopped him.
"Let me make this clear," he turned around, "the battleground is my kingdom. The king can keep his throne."