For the Prince! For the Queen! by Zachary T. Sellers

Author:Zachary T. Sellers [Sellers, Zachary T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ZTS Enterprises
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

27th of Andril, 1109 N.F. (e.y.)

ALINDALE SHOOK HIS HEAD AT the lines of people shuffling past his father’s closed casket. He saw a few sorrowful looks in their passing glances, but most were simply paying their respects before returning to their lives.

“Sit up, Alindale,” his mother whispered from beside him. “We cannot have our subjects looking up and seeing you bent over, frowning at them.”

Alindale grunted and sat back. Their gallery seats obscured most of the people below from view.

He glanced sideways, trying to see his mother’s face, but it was obscured by a black veil tied to her bundled hair. The voluminous skirts of her mourning dress spilled out around her seat. Her fan, though, was noticeably absent. Alindale figured she would be sweltering under the weight of the black silk, along with the long sleeves and high neckline, lined with white lace.

“This is wrong,” he said under his breath.

“It is tradition to let the people pay their respects to their former king,” his mother replied.

“Not the procession.” He shook his head. “We are holding the funeral too soon. Amanda has not even had the chance to get here.”

“Amanda knew he was ill,” his mother replied dryly. “None of us knew the extent, but we knew it was serious. If she wanted to check on him or be close, she could have come to see him.” She sniffed and turned her head to wipe her nose under her veil with her handkerchief. “Besides, I sent her an invitation to the Great Spring Ball, to her and her mercantile husband.” Her voice cracked, and then she groaned. “Why did she not come? It has been so long since I have seen my grandchildren.” She pushed her handkerchief back under her veil and softly sobbed.

Alindale rubbed his palms and shrunk into his seat. He then reached to comfort her, but she jerked away.

“Everything’s going to be all right, Mother,” he said, still trying to be comforting.

She cleared her throat and sat up straight. “Yes, dear, I know. We will all be fine . . . once this all passes.”

“It is all right to cry, Mother.”

“Thank you, dear,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it, “but we must show strength to the people.”

But you wailed at Adam’s funeral. Alindale remembered her unable to control herself, even leaving the gallery to cry next to his brother’s casket.

“The people especially need to see it now.” Her tone turned dark. “His Majesty being murdered in his sickbed by one of his closest friends has shocked them.”

Alindale shifted in his chair. “Mother, you and I both know Lord Vanni—”

His mother slapped his leg. “Don’t you dare say his name! Not here! Not now!”

Alindale leaned forward, trying to peer under her veil. “Are you sure you’re all right, Mother? You’ve been locked in your rooms for days. You didn’t even come to tell me we were having Father’s funeral today. You sent Thomas!”

“Quiet, Alindale!” she hissed. “These galleries echo.”

He frowned and jerked away.

You can at least cry for Father like you cried for Adam.

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