Chapter 4 King Evaan

Layana took a deep breath as she raised her hand to knock on the huge door that was made of ash grey wood, covered in a filigree pattern made of pure silver. Two guards flanked the doors, each keeping their eyes ahead, daring not to admire the beautiful princess before them.

Layana's mind flitted to the last time she came here. It was years ago when she was barely thirteen. She had gotten in trouble then too...

"Enter," the sharp cold voice of king Evaan called, bringing her out of her reverie.

One of the guards opened the door for her, and Layana stepped inside. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her efforts to remain calm futile. After all, King Evaan was not one to be trifled with. She curtsied to her father.

"Father," she said, looking at the man sitting behind the large ash wood table.

His cold grey eyes fixed on her. His straight, shoulder-length, brown hair framed his face, and a small beard and moustache lined thin lips. His thick, arched brows were knitted as he looked at her. He wore a white tunic shirt with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a small silver band sat upon his head. He did not like to wear his crown, whereas Queen Myra always wore one of her many headpieces from her extravagant collection.

"Close the door," he said emotionlessly, his voice as cold as the palace walls, something that did not reach into this room.

The walls, despite being made of marble, were covered from floor to ceiling with ash grey bookshelves to match the desk, containing scrolls, books, and records. It was a roundish room with a slightly hexagonal shape to it. The wall behind the king's desk contained a small stained-glass window. However, it was covered with silver bars; this was a room that could not be risked being broken into and was on the highest floor of the palace.

The chair behind the king's desk was made of black leather, as were the two seats before it. There was a lamp on the desk and a chandelier of white crystals hung from the ceiling above. There was a huge fireplace on the right of the desk, and to the other side was a round table covered with a black cloth, a few maps and scrolls lying on it.

"Sit," her father ordered once she had shut the door, and Layana obeyed. The king put down the scroll he had been reading and threaded his fingers together, resting his elbows on the table. His gaze never left the young woman before him. "Care to share what happened two days ago with Queen Myra?" He asked, his voice so calm, it made a shiver run down Layana's back. His calmness only showed he was extremely furious. She took a deep, steadying breath. Despite the pounding in her chest, she met her father's gaze and readied herself to answer him.

"I do apologise for my outbreak... however, Queen Myra had summoned us for breakfast to discuss bringing forward Terania's engagement, and she insulted Queen Azalea on our upbringing," she explained, her soft voice clear in the quiet room. It had been Aurelia, her youngest sister, who had accidentally placed her cup down with a clatter that had triggered it all. Evaan frowned as he looked at her.

"So, you are justifying your disobedience?" He asked coldly.

"No, I should not have spoken like that," Layana said. She frowned slightly, thinking she didn't regret speaking like that, but she could not say that to her father.

"Layana, you are a princess. Act like one," he said coldly

"Even if it means the mother who raised me is insulted?" Layana asked softly Evaan frowned. He didn't care much for the issues between his two queens; he loved neither, but Myra was his queen consort.

"Myra has every right to put Azalea in her place, and you need to know yours. Do not push me, Layana," Evaan said coldly. His words rang in Layana's mind, and, feeling a surge of anger, she looked at her father defiantly.

"I am sorry, Father, but I cannot agree where someone is insulted and should take it in stride. I care not that Queen Myra called my birth mother a whore, but if she -"

"What?" Evaan's eyes flashed as he looked at Layana, who looked momentarily confused. Her stomach fluttered nervously. Was it because she said the word 'whore?'

"I apo-"

"Did Myra call your mother..." he trailed off, feeling anger fill him. How dare she...

Layana looked at him. She knew the rumours, rumours that the king had loved a woman once. It had been Cordelia who had confirmed this; she had a way to get her information, and she said it was the reason Myra hated Layana because her mother was the one woman her father had truly loved.

She looked at her father, who had now stood up, his chest rising and falling in barely contained anger, his fists clenched by his side against his dark brown pants.

"Father, you're worried about an insult to a woman who left you, but what about Queen Azalea, who has been by your side and raised three of your daughters with compassion and love? How can -"

"Enough! Do not push me, Layana! Don't you dare speak on a subject you know nothing off," he hissed, anger burning in his usually empty grey eyes.

Layana almost flinched at the resentment and rage in his voice.

"I was only..." she trailed off, knowing he wouldn't listen

"I want 500 pages written on how a princess should behave, the decorum, and expectations by the end of the week! That is your punishment, now get out!" He snapped, slamming his fist on the table.

"If I were a boy, would you expect me to behave the same way?" She asked quietly, wondering if she and her father ever see eye to eye. With each passing year, he became more and more distant...

"You are not one. I have been cursed with nothing but useless daughters. Now, get out!" The king spat, turning his back on the woman who reminded him so much of the woman he once loved. Seeing her was a painful reminder of the woman he had lost... and with each passing year, her personality, her confidence, her opinions sounded more and more like her...

Layana felt a pang of hurt at his bitter cold words, trying to remind herself that he had spoken in anger.

"If you gave us the chance... I'm sure we could prove to be better sons than one could ever hope for..." she whispered. The king did not reply, and Layana turned. Her heart felt heavy, and the sadness of his words weighed her down.

Just as she reached the door, there was a knock, and she pulled it open. A young boy bowed low, visibly out of breath.

"What is it?" Evaan snapped.

"The knights from the western army have arrived," the boy announced, bowing low.

"Very well," the king said in a calmer tone. His eyes went to his daughter's back as she waited for the boy to complete his message before stepping out. A sliver of guilt filled him; he was about to call to her but held back, looking away as the door shut after her.

The king sighed deeply, sinking into his seat. How would they know how hard it was being a king with no proper heir? Yes, Terania would be queen, but many did not want that. No one wanted to see a female monarch. He loved his daughters, but at the same time, he resented that they were not male-born.

He had kept his daughters shielded; more than anything, he wanted them hidden away from the world, Layana more than the others, because deep inside, he was scared, scared that she may hold the power of her mother's cursed bloodline. It was a power that had lain dormant in the last few centuries, and many believed it had died out, but Evaan did not. He had been there the night of Layana's birth and had seen what had happened...

He frowned deeply, pushing the dark thoughts from his head and instead, focusing on the fact that general Elian had sent a particularly important message ahead that stressed that the letter sent with the knights was of great urgency.

-----

Declan had been shown to his quarters, and after taking a well-needed shower and resting for a short while, they were now to see the king.

"Ready?" Aren asked as he leaned against the wall. He wore a deep green shimmering tunic, a gold and brown belt around his waist, paired with brown pants and black boots. Declan raised an eyebrow. He himself wore his black tunic, pants, and boots, carrying his twin swords, and fingerless gloves covering his hands.

"What's with the getup?" He asked, pushing past the other man and locking the door behind him. Aren flashed a smirk.

"Well, trust me, the king will invite us to dinner and..." He glanced around and leaned closer to his friend as he saw the guards leading the way not too far off. "We might get to see the pretty butterflies." Declan simply ignored him as Aren shook his head. "Seriously, Declan, the third princess is meant to be breathtaking. I'm sure even you will agree."

"I highly doubt that," Declan's cold reply came. Aren was about to protest but couldn't as the two guards leading them stopped outside a large double door with intricate patterns. Two guards were stationed outside it, and they exchanged a word with the new arrivals.

"The king is expecting you," one of the men said, knocking and opening the door for them.

Declan looked at the door as it opened as if in slow motion. This was it, the moment to meet the king he had only ever seen from afar... maybe he should just seize the moment and behead him right now. He clenched his jaw.

No, he needed answers first. He needed to know if there was even an ounce of remorse in the king for the decision taken fifteen years ago. A decision that had made him an orphan...