UNEXPECTED REVELATION IN TAVRODEL

I am not a queen because I rule, I rule because I am THE QUEEN.

Birthed in my heart. Alive in my veins…

*****************

Zorgan emerged, sword drawn as he stood by the door. The King turned gradually towards him.

‘‘Why have you traded our lives and ordered merciless soldiers to crush us?’’ Zorgan demanded in a low but heavy tone, to hide his true voice.

He had expected the King to try and call for his guards or to grab a weapon, but instead, the King fell to his knees, his head bowed and voice trembling.

“I am guilty of it all. You may take my head.’’

Zorgan was beyond stunned, he hesitated still in that tone, ‘‘What are you guilty of?’’

‘‘Trading the lives and livelihoods of my people.

Over twelve moons ago, I lost one of my wives- my only true partner, though I never thought or told her she was so, till she was gone. It wasn’t the crown I wore that made love reside in her toward me; it was for the man I used to be. No one else ever did. Not my children, not the court, or the others I shared my bed with.

Tavrodel would always have another king, but I would never have her again.’’

Zorgan’s jaw tensed. ‘‘So you gambled away your Kingdom because of one soul?

Your grief plunged you in a despair that destroyed the lives of many…because of ONE PERSON?’’

‘‘Yes Commander Zorgan. Yes, I did.’’ he fired.

It seemed the night was full of more surprises. Zorgan was further stunned.

‘How could you tell it was I?’’

‘‘Because I planned all this.

Everything Baelor said was true. I instructed him to speak those words to you because you wouldn’t be able to ignore them.

That’s the reason I specifically requested Valcresh’s aid.

The King exhaled shakily.

‘‘In my grief and drunken haze, I made a bet with the Kings of Durnavar and Nimorath, a wicked and reckless gamble. It bled my kingdom and fed theirs, just because they desire their kingdoms to rival the likes of Ysvaldir, Valcresh, Eryndor, and the Kingdoms of Higher Thrones-”

Zorgan interrupted him. “You also desired it. Do not ignore that part’’

The King of Tavrodel nodded. ‘‘I did but not anymore. They want to drain the weaker kingdoms for their goals.’’

His voice dropped, ‘‘By the next gathering of Southern Royals, they may well succeed if they are not stopped.’’

He bowed his head once more.

‘‘No one coerced me to say this. But I had to, so that perhaps my people may yet be saved.

Now do what you need to Commander Zorgan. I have been ready for a long time.’’

The King’s Natal Feast, Grandest Hall of Valcresh’s Main Palace, Valcresh, The South…

Kings, Queens, High Lords, and Ladies, Princes, and Princesses, Wardens and Regents from Kingdoms such as Ysvaldir, Eryndor, Uthmere, Adabbon, Isoloth, and a few others from the thirty-three Kingdoms that make up the South, each arriving with great ceremony, gathered for the two-day celebration, adorned splendidly.

The Hall was a vision of white and gold grandeur, tables awash with sumptuous fare and wine that poured without end. The abundance of it all was almost overwhelming.

Each of the King’s wives ensured that their children were accounted for at the event. Even Queen Maeve who would make her formal entrance alongside the King, had ensured that both her daughters and their Husbands were present in the Hall.

Yet a quiet frustration lingered in her heart as neither Zorgan nor his wife had arrived.

Worse yet, no word had come. She knew Zorgan had reported his return from Tavrodel the day before and so their absence was more perplexing and inexplicable.

As time stretched and no word came, she was left with no choice. She entered the Hall, standing beside the King, her simmering irritation barely concealed.

Behind them, two heralds raised their voices in unison, “The one we have all come to honour, the Ruler of Valcresh, His Royal Highness, King Meridius of Valcresh!’’

Applause filled the air as the King made his way to the balustrade to look down on everyone with a huge grin on.

‘‘And Her Highness, Queen Maeve of Valcresh’’

Her name was swallowed by the cheering, but she kept a steady strained smile, waving as she and the King acknowledged the crowd.

It was then that Zorgan finally entered, running in with such haste that he collided with a princess.

The collision sent her stumbling backward, crashing into a row of servers, spilling wine and food across the floor.

The clapping faltered and all eyes turned toward the disruption.

Zorgan flustered and worn, helped the princess to her feet and recover, fixing her shoe and gathering her fallen accessories.

His exhaustion was evident; the journey from Tavrodel had taken its toll, coupled with the inability of his mind to maximize his hours of rest rather than repeatedly thinking of Nadezhda’s plea to place her on her feet in that garden.

A few moments to that moment in the garden, he had come perilously close to succumbing to that fleeting desire to capture her lips. He had secretly prayed that on setting her down, she would pull him down to her like she had done on their wedding day and offer his soul another taste.

But she had walked away and not turned back at all.

As he offered a curt apology and returned her tiara to the princess, he noticed her arm resting on his forearm. He peeled it off as he gave way for the skilled maidservants swiftly returning everything to order, erasing the disruption as though it never occurred.

The King’s displeasure was clear but the event had to press forward.

With the crowd’s attention now back on the proceedings, the King addressed the assembly, his voice steady.

‘I thank the Heavens for life and Kings who have honoured my invitation to spend these two days with me. To everyone else in attendance, I am deeply grateful.

I hope you enjoy this moment of splendour and the moments ahead.”

The crowd swelled in applause once more, and as the music began, a soft melody played by violas, lutes, and harps, the tone for the evening was set.

The King and Queen descended the stairs with measured grace, their cloaks behind them like flowing banners, soldiers behind them in a quiet show of majesty.

The crowd below parted like a tide before them, clearing a path to the platform where the thrones of honour and class had been arranged- tall backed chairs adorned in gold filigree and house emblems.

Several rulers were already seated, their crowns glinting beneath the illumination of the hall.

Among them sat the King of Isoloth- Nadezhda’s father- beaming with unguarded pride.

His joy was unmistakable, for never before had he been summoned to such a gathering by the King of Valcresh. For Isoloth was considered of the Median Ring in Southern Realm hierarchy.

The King and Queen of Valcresh settled, and soon, one by one, lords, ladies, emissaries, and merchants stepped forward bearing tributes.

Guests that had come from far and near came forward with arms-burdening gifts fit for a King.

Elixirs said to grant clarity of mind, fine tapestries embroidered with gold thread, rare incense, swords with jeweled hilts, bolts of sky-dyed silk, rare wines sealed in century-old casks, live songbirds said to be capable of mimicking human speech, and many more.

Music rose and fell as dancers spun across polished stone to the delight of all.

Moments later, Prince San, who had sought permission from the Queen to be appointed Master of Revels for the occasion, ascended the voice-tier – an elevated stone ring beneath the central dome.

Mirth and cheer followed him as every eye turned in anticipation.