“We must decide before she arrives.” An old man’s voice echoed in the grand hall of the Council.

The arhythmical steps of a dying woman cut through that echo and cast a silence over the hall. The ebony cane of her late father beat the marble steps of the amphitheatre.

The elders had sat on one side of the enclosure that surrounded the stage at the lowest floor, which was also called the arena. The Elders would sit on cold marble steps of the enclosure with nowhere to lean, and the Reverî Kings who stood up in the arena would be towered by them. So that the King would be humbled as he spoke and the Elders could not get too comfortable.

The pit was empty. Nurad was blaspheming the hall on his marble seat. The bastard has taken off his Reveran robes. Camelia thought as she saw the Elder. He had worn a white robe with blue etchings on the edges. A type that the southerners, the Lords of the Capital would wear. He would scrape the brown off his skin if he could, to lick Vitaen arse.

“Since when the dear Elders decide without a Reverî to shepherd them? Have you lot gone senile or were you wolves hiding under sheepskin all this time?”

“It must have been hard for you, young lady,” Nurad spoke. “I understand your pain and anger, but you are in front of the Elders of Revera, in the hall of Rever himself. Do not speak things you would regret later.”

“I almost couldn’t recognize you in white and blue, Elder Nurad. And seems like you could not recognize me in blacks. Not young lady, but the Queen of Whitepeak.” Camelia slowly but surely walked down the stairs and stopped at the centre of the stage, turning at the side where all the Elders sat. “It is your master you are talking to. Don’t be mistaken.”

“You are yet to be crowned, young lady. Chosen or not, you are still the heir and in front of the Elders.”

“And crowned she will be!” Elder Levanir barked at Nurad. Is he the one who betrayed us? Camelia thought. Is that why he is defending me so fervently?

No, It can’t be. He was my father’s mentor and best friend. She didn’t want to accuse the man his father cared so deeply, yet she could not be sure.

“Do you disagree?” Levanir continued.

“She is too young.” This time, it was Elder Irend. He stood tall in his white robe. On his robe stood a necklace, ornamented with a coal cut into a gem and on his head was his purple mitre. A jewel from the earth, not a shining decoration but a symbol of humility for a man of the cloth. High Vaelin of the Revera stood there and looked down on her, his nostrils enlarging with visible disgust. “She would fine with a regent.”

“Why would that be dear elder? My father was crowned a year younger than me. Were you discontent with him as well? Were you discontent with his rule?”

Irend’s face soured. Camelia knew the reason. The man saw himself fit to stand where she was. He was her uncle, after all. Elder brother to the late king and a Reverî disowned by his father for his crimes.

Is he the one who had the poison? Camelia thought. Did he kill his brother for the throne?

He had been sent to the church for redemption even before Camelia’s birth but she damn well knew he blamed Nedephir and by proxy her for his disownment. He was a likely candidate.

“We were at war back then. Revera needed a Reverî. But now…”

“Wasn’t my grandfather slain by the blade of our enemies?” Camelia’s voice trembled as she suppressed the urge to cough. She could not see well and barely stood still but had to continue. “Hasn’t my father died the same way? On the field or in bed chambers, we are at war, and the throne needs a Reverî.”

“Perhaps...” It was Elder Menander this time. The head of the garrison. The man could easily be seen even with Camelia’s fading sight. He was twice the size of the other elders and perhaps two-thirds of their age. “We could find both an older and a noble candidate?” He turned at Irend.

This time, it was Levanir who protested. “I may tolerate his seat as an Elder or even the High Vaelin, it was Nedephir’s wish to have him sat there.” Levanir took a deep breath. “But to get down a few more steps on the enclosure… he wouldn’t be wise to even wish.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t want that.” Leran jumped at the chance. “Perhaps what we need is not a regent but a consort. He is a mage just like you Elder,” He looked at Levanir. “Perhaps he would have a better chance at protecting his liege.”

“Don’t you dare imply that Nedephir died because of me! I served his father as I served him, and I have protected them in every conceivable way. What have you done to do that Leran? While I protected him for years? Had it not been for that miserable wench haunting Dragon’s Peak, I would have never left the city. Tell me what have you done during the attack other than stuffing your face with your father’s coins.”

“Must we all be berated at any chance? Is that the only way to reach a consensus?” Elder Nurad turned to Camelia. “Your father would never…”

“My father is dead!” Camelia roared. “And the assailant is on the loose. I have mourned for a fortnight, and I would keep wailing for another, but your eyes seem to be blind to the assassin, as you were to his blades. You failed to keep your lord alive and you failed to find his murderer. Do you still expect dignity? How dare!”

“Young lady.” Elder Leran slightly bowed his head. He looked afraid. Is that because he is the one, who betrayed me? No, he doesn’t have a room here. But he could have paid for the poison. Camelia thought as Leran continued. “We understand your concern but…”

“But what? Have you found the assassin?” Her legs gave up for a moment and Camelia almost fell. To stop, she tried to take a step forward and instead could only throw one leg in front as she no longer could feel anything below her waist. The limbs barely listened to her but it was enough with the help of the cane.

Surrounded by people who have sworn to aid Revera and the Reverî, her dead father was the one helping her.

“No, your highness but…”

“Then why have you gathered here? Are the killers hiding in the Halls of Rever? Or are you not willing to crawl into whatever hole they are hiding?”

“We await the envoy from Vita. Emperor sent Lady Irell to observe and aid. She is preparing as we speak. We were to discuss the ways of reestablishing stability and upholding j...” Leran was to continue but someone cut him off.

“Justice and securing the succession.” Irell smiled, continuing Elder’s sentence as she approached the hall. She calmly walked down the stairs. “The Crown believes that stability would come from a clear succession. And only a stable Revera could sustain peace in the Empire.”

“You say it as if the succession is not clear.” Levanir held onto his staff, a visible distrust and disgust in his eyes, enough to kill Irell just by looking at her.

“Your king has died. His killer has escaped. You have hanged dozens of innocents instead. They see you as incompetent as you are fueled by rage. Crowning a little girl alone would only fuel the fire.”

“Saint Rever too was young when he subdued the flood.” Levanir continued.

“Rever had the blessing of Vaella my dear.” The middle-aged woman smiled and boldened the creases around her eyes. “He had his emperor’s blessing. We are standing on it.”

“And the Emperor had Rever’s halberd. Do not quote us the past Lady.” Irend shouted. He may have hated Camelia but his hate towards the south was even greater.

“Do not misunderstand me, Vaelin. I do not wish to oust this lady. I just believe she needs guidance. How old were you dear?”

“The Queen to be is fourteen,” Leran replied.

“Quite young to rule indeed. But the ripe age for marriage. Perhaps a union between an Elder’s family and Lady Camelia would strengthen her claim.”

“Elders and their families can guide me outside of my bed-chambers just as well. No need for marriage.”

Same thing Nurad proposed. Camelia thought Was he the one who betrayed the house? Did he take his orders from the imperial crown? To marry his son to me in my father’s absence?

“Not just guidance my dear. A queen with a regent would look stronger to the public and the news of a new heir would make them forget the death of a loved king.”

“So you say the Queen alone is weak? Is that your words or your Emperor’s? Is his peace that you spoke of so brittle that I can break it?”

“Aren’t we all weaker compared to at least someone? Also, it would be our emperor, not mine alone.”

The tension rose and silence befall the hall. Elders looked at each other, and Camelia studied Irell.

She had worn a silk dress, a few shades lighter than her pale skin. Her hair had a few white strands and wore a necklace, whose gem was as green as her eyes.

She stood there, a few steps higher than where the Elders had been sitting. Looking down on everyone.

“Whom would you propose my lady.” Leran jumped at the chance. “I have a son just the right age.”

“Let’s not take your son off his studies and break his dreams. Also not to offend but an older house would be better. What about you Elder Nurad? Don’t you have a son?”

There is no way Nurad hasn’t spoken to Irell. Camelia thought. There is no way this is a coincidence.

“I do, my lady. Both my son and I would be honoured by this marriage. What do you think, your majesty?” Nurad turned to Camelia, who was right about to collapse.

“You wish me to show strength to my subjects?” Camelia drew the last ounce of strength to speak. “Very well. I will do it with an axe in my hand, not a ring on its fingers. I have found a clue as to whom the assassin might be where you all had been fooling around for a fortnight. An old woman who can lead me to the killer. I will find him and behead him myself. That should show strength.”

Camelia then stormed out of the Hall, knowing that had she stayed for longer, she would have collapsed on the ground.