Delia made her way down the garden path. Her shoes tapped a lonely beat on the stones.
My mother is dead. I am queen.
She knew these facts to be true, but her soul was confused. How could she walk along the garden calmly like she had always done? In her mind she was screaming out sob after sob. I will never hear my mother’s voice again, she thought. The idea caught her off guard.
“Immersing yourself in your emotions is a luxury a queen cannot afford.”
She kept swallowing the words until the urge to cry had dissipated. Reaching the end of the path, she arrived at the queen’s favorite tier of the royal gardens. The staff had specially set up a private tribute to her mother.
Some of the flowers had been coaxed to bloom early with lanterns of plasma hung at close intervals. The shrubs were painstakingly trimmed to perfection. Chairs were placed for her and Shania to receive condolences from the courtiers, but Delia couldn’t sit, she had to keep moving.
Prince Hagar stood off to the side, speaking with a lord from the court. His long hair was down and she was surprised to see it was nearly the length of his back.
Not wanting to speak with anyone in particular, she continued through the garden. The air was thick with the sweet scent of blooms. Most of the courtiers bowed or curtsied as they addressed her as “Your Highness.” Delia was relieved no one had started calling her queen yet. She wasn’t ready.
Maxim and Mikel approached her from behind, one on either side of her. “We’re sorry,” one of them said.
“So sorry,” the other echoed. They each took her hand in theirs, one twin’s hand on the top, the other on the bottom. They wore long black jackets, fitted at the waist with a black handkerchief in the pocket.
“Thank you,” she said, slipping away from them. “As you can imagine, we are devastated.” They nodded in unison, both somber and woeful.
Delia looked for Shania in the crowd, but it was Prince Oskar standing by himself near the wall who caught her eye. He was ignoring everyone around him, but instead focusing on the distance. Then he craned his neck, taking in the sky. He repeated this pattern of scanning the area several times before he noticed her. He dipped his chin down, then disappeared into the crowd.
Hardly able to interpret his actions, Delia continued to look for Shania. She finally saw her speaking with Prince Felix. The dull expression on her face was a stark contrast to her usual effervescent self. He listened intently as she spoke, with his hands clasped behind his back. Then he stepped away, letting another courtier greet Shania.
There was something respectful in his stance that appealed to Delia’s broken spirit. He turned and saw she was looking at him. There were people in between them, but Prince Felix was so tall she could watch as he made his way toward her.
“Princess Delia!” Prince Armano appeared almost from thin air and swooped in front of her with a deep bow. “My deepest and most sincere condolences.”
“Thank you,” she said, staring down at the top of his blond curls. There was actually a porcelain butterfly nestled inside.
He took her hand in both of his. “The garden has lost its most beautiful flower today.” Then he leaned closer and dropped his voice. “I’m aware of how delicate this question may seem, but is there a chance we could meet … privately?” He wiggled his eyebrow when he said the last word.
“I’m afraid not.” Delia pulled her hand out of his grip. “As per custom, after this we will be having a private ceremony for my mother. And as you aware, the Full Moon Festival will start the next day.” She realized her voice must have given away her frustration, because several courtiers looked her way, then spoke behind their hands.
She gave him a small smile, then said, “But I will look for you especially at the ball.”
Prince Armano winked. Then he put a finger to his lips. “I shall keep our secret to myself.” He nearly twirled on the spot, then strutted toward Shania at the far end. Thankfully, Advisor Winchell blocked his path. Then Colonel Yashin joined them.
With her head spinning, Delia felt too warm, and the scent of the flowers was overwhelming. A strong hand cupped her elbow.
“You need to sit, I believe,” Prince Felix said. His deep voice was all softness and concern.
“I’ll be all right,” she said. “I prefer to stand, actually. The thought of having everyone standing over me is a bit stifling at the moment.”
He stepped back. “As you wish.” He corrected his posture, then said, “I am so sorry this happened to you and your sister. I’m not fortunate enough to have siblings. I envy the connection you have with her.”
Delia stared at him, unsure how to respond. At first Prince Felix seemed like an unfeeling soldier, all combat and strategy, but lately, the real man was surfacing. “You surprise me,” she said. His expression became alarmed. “Not in a bad way,” she explained. “I’m only coming to realize now that first impressions are not necessarily the most accurate.”
He gave her a careful smile, then said, “I hope that means I may bring you more rubis berries in the future.”
Delia’s heart stuttered unexpectedly as images of Aidan caught her unaware. She brought a hand to her mouth to hide the anguish she was certain was written on her face. She forced herself to wipe him out of her thoughts. She must concentrate on the present.
“My apologies,” Prince Felix said. “I did not intend to indicate a rush in the relationship, but rather the promise of seeing you again.”
Nodding, she said, “I’d like that as well.” And as soon as she said the words, it was like a lightbulb had gone off. Something she’d completely forgotten about. “Excuse me for asking, or if this seems a bit odd, but have you misplaced a silver dagger since coming here? I overheard one of the technicians say a droid had malfunctioned and was found with an assortment of various objects from some of the other princes.” She smiled and her lip stuck to her teeth. “No one has claimed it yet and I wondered if it might have been yours.”
“That’s the strangest thing, actually,” he said. “When I arrived there was already a silver dagger in the room. When I told the servants, they informed me that Prince Quinton’s page, Niko, was originally assigned to that chamber, but then he moved to be closer to Prince Quinton. It must be his.”
“I see, thank you. I’ll ask him.”
Then he put a finger to his chin. “That’s interesting. I don’t believe I’ve seen him since yesterday. And I don’t believe Prince Quinton is here either.”
“Your Highness,” Colonel Yashin said as he bowed. “A moment, if you please.”
Prince Felix clicked his heels and made his departure. Delia began to walk to the edge of the tiered garden, staying close to the railing with Colonel Yashin on her other side.
“The coronation will take place under the great tree before the funeral,” he said. There was a heaviness to his words.
“Both ceremonies so close?” She put a hand to her heart.
He sighed. “Direct orders of your mother—one of her last requests, actually. She wanted you to be in a place of authority as soon as possible. Delegates from the Four Quadrants will be arriving soon, as well as some of their military representatives.”
That got Delia’s attention. “Why the military?”
His left eye twitched, and he glanced toward Advisor Winchell, then lowered his voice. “The queen and the rest of the council agreed the marriage contract should be honored as quickly as possible. There will be unrest in the Four Quadrants until you do. Astor is in a fragile state; the planet is slowly dying, our energy sources are depleted, and we are incapable of defending ourselves if another planet decides to take over.” He rubbed a hand down his beard, and Delia could tell he was holding something back.
“Unrest? Take over? Colonel Yashin, if you expect me to be crowned and then marry within the next few days, I need to know everything.”
He gave her a pained expression. “We have what most of the other planets envy—a strategic position in the Four Quadrants galaxy. Other delegates are eager to trade with us on one stipulation, that we allow them to build a military base on the other side of the mountain.”
“No,” she responded automatically. “Think of the great tree and the glacier that provides all the water. We can’t disturb that area! It’s sacred!”
“We would have water imported from Trellium.”
“This makes no sense. We’d be selling off Astor piece by piece.” She turned and saw Shania being comforted by one of the courtiers. “I can’t believe my mother agreed to this plan,” she whispered.
Colonel Yashin put a hand on the hilt of his sword. “We’re secluded in the palace,” he said. “We can no longer deny what is happening to Astor. The only way to keep it habitable is to build a military base. Trellium and Delta Kur are eager to fund this venture, but if we are not willing to enter into trade talks with them, we might be looking at war, princess.”
“Our ancestors though…” Delia couldn’t finish the sentence. She turned to him. “Is there no other way?”
He shrugged. “I wish I knew.”
Delia nodded. She was inside a bubble; everything was muffled, dead.
Then he gasped. “Beg your pardon, I addressed you incorrectly.” His eyes were rimmed with tears. Then he slowly bowed. “We must show a united front, Your Majesty, Queen Delia.”
Queen Delia.
The words echoed through her mind as she numbly made her way along the garden path. She left the tiered garden and headed to the maze, simply walking to keep from collapsing. When she arrived at the middle, someone else was already there.
“Prince Quinton,” she said, unable to muster more surprise in her voice. She took in his swollen eyes and disheveled appearance. It made no sense. “I didn’t see you at the memorial for my mother.”
He stood up. “No. Wait … memorial?”
“My mother died this afternoon.” The sentence came out quietly, as if she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. The words sounded horribly wrong.
The sorrowful expression in his eyes was replaced with shock. “Oh no. I’m so sorry, princess.”
“Queen,” she replied, expressionless.
He cleared his throat, then made his way to her. “I’m truly sorry. Your mother was respected by many. I know the people of Astor will miss her very much. And I know you will be just as admired as your mother.”
“I appreciate your kind words.”
As the shadows of the late day crept across the grass, Delia glanced around the center of the maze. The statue of Arianna gave up no clues as to why Prince Quinton was here. “When I first came in you were crying. What’s wrong?”
He hung his head. It looked like he was going to start crying again. “Niko left me. I told him that we’d be happier living a lie as long as we were living together, but he said it wasn’t enough anymore. He said it hurt too much.” Prince Quinton waved a hand at the sky, gesturing to the stars. “I didn’t fight hard enough to keep him. I never knew how much I had to lose until I saw him leave. He’s going to Delta Kur! I may never see him again.”
Delia relived her own moment of disaster with Aidan. How much they underestimated their partners. The earlier desperation came over her in waves. “This is awful, I’m sorry.”
He sniffed. “I will never see Niko again and that’s my fault because I didn’t put him first. If you love anything in this world, fight for it. Otherwise what’s the point of anything?”
As the council looked on, Delia stood at the base of the great tree, now wearing the traditional coronation dress with the decorated fringe. Her braid had been redone to accommodate the antique crown all the other queens of Astor had worn before her. Afterward, it would be returned to its protective glass case.
Shania stood to the side, her own hair entwined with mourner’s beads, dried seeds from the great tree that were hand painted by her great-grandmother’s ladies-in-waiting. Each year the case was taken out and the beads were retouched by the skilled androids of the official royal jewelers.
The Queen’s Guard encircled the intimate gathering. Other than the wind moving through the branches of the great tree, Advisor Winchell’s voice was the only sound. She approached Delia with the elaborate crown of codlight crystals balanced on a tray in her hands. “Princess Delia, direct descendant of Arianna, first daughter of the moon, and firstborn daughter of Talia, Queen of Astor, do you vow to govern the peoples of Astor with the guidance of your ancestors?”
“I do,” Delia answered, working to keep her voice steady.
“Will you solemnly promise your utmost power to maintain the safety and prosperity of Astor as her protector by our customs and respective laws?”
“I will.”
“You may bow and accept your birthright,” Advisor Winchell said.
Delia’s mouth went dry. She knelt, keeping her chin up and head level.
Advisor Winchell passed the crown to Shania. “Your mother gave me instructions,” she said, her eyes welling, but voice unwavering, “for you to crown your queen.”
Nodding, Shania took the crown and secured it to Delia’s head. Adjusting to the extra weight, Delia slowly stood and locked gazes with her sister.
She was only partially aware of movement around them as Advisor Winchell then began the funeral ceremony.
Shania stood close beside her and whispered, “We only have each other now.”
“It will be enough.” Delia watched as her mother’s body was taken up the mountain to be burned at the ceremonial site. Only the shaman and a group of select Queen’s Guard—her Guard now—were allowed to accompany the body to its final resting place among her ancestors.
The night was cool, but Delia didn’t feel the wind wrap around her braid. Shania tucked in close to her side, the sacred text pressed against her chest. They stared at the small flicker in the distance.
The fire stood out against the blackened face of the mountain and grew to a larger flame. There was a swallowed gasp behind Delia. Advisor Winchell softly cried as she stared at the mountain.
With the sacred text shaking in her hands, Shania opened to a passage and began to read. The tears started, but she continued with the legend.
“… and the moon kept her safe while the planet below and everything on it froze.”
As her younger sister completed the story of the legend, they remained beside the tree, watching as the last lights of the pyre ignited the sky.
On the way back to her room, Delia gave her mother’s corridor a wide berth. The staff curtsied and whispered condolences; a few even addressed her as queen.
I will never hear my mother speak again.
Putting a hand over her mouth to stifle the sob, Delia crashed into her own room. She threw herself on the bed, hid her face in her pillow, and let the tears come.
She had no direction! Her heart was ripped into a million pieces. She tried to imagine what advice her mother would give, but no answer came.
Then she closed her eyes and reached out to her ancestors.
“If you love anything in this world, fight for it.”
Delia sat upright and saw the clothes she’d worn earlier rumpled on the floor. Blossoms clung to the fabric. She could make out the lump of the clockwork bird, still in the pocket. An unexpected wave of inspiration moved her into action. She grabbed a pen and paper and started to write.
Her door opened.
“Just when I think I’ve cried so much I can’t produce any more tears … I cry again.” Shania came in and sat down on the bed, tucking into Delia’s side. “I wish this were a dream I could wake from,” she whispered. She leaned in and read over Delia’s shoulder. “What is this?” There was an impish hitch to her voice.
Delia gave her sister a guilty look. “Do you believe it’s possible that two people in love can accomplish anything? Even when it seems impossible?”
“Absolutely.”
She handed her the letter. “It’s for Aidan,” she said. “But … what if he says no?”
Shania’s eyes were bright and brimming with tears. “Then it wasn’t meant to be. If he’s your true love, you’ll have your answer.”
Delia rolled up the note and placed it inside the windup bird. Then, as a last thought, she picked up a blossom and placed it inside with the slip of paper. She stepped out to the balcony with Shania and set it free.