Rightful

Princess Thyrena Antuir wandered aimlessly through Midnight Castle’s dark hallways. Her mother, Queen Thatraya, was dying and Thyrena didn’t know what to do. Thyrena’s dark-brown hair hung limp and dull — a condition she had never allowed before. Her normally beautiful, olive-brown skin was pale and gaunt from lack of sleep and too much stress. Her mother had been brought back from battle on a skiff but was still conscious. Now, her condition was rapidly declining as she fought a high fever. A host of healers were doing all they could, but it did not look like the life of the queen of Midnight would last much longer. There was poison in her blood; she didn’t have the strength to fight it.

“Your Highness?”

“Yes?” Thyrena asked tiredly, turning to the young servant.

“Her Majesty wishes your presence.”

Thyrena noticed the young man seemed distressed. Panic coursed through her as she ran to her mother’s rooms.

“Ema?” she asked anxiously, as she entered the room and walked across the soft rug to where the queen lay deathly still in her large canopy bed. Kuana Test, the lead healer, motioned her assistants back to give them privacy.

“Thyrena,” Thatraya rasped, “I will not live through this night.”

Though Thatraya’s cold, pale body bore evidence to her statement, the princess couldn’t believe it. You have to, Ema! she wanted to protest. Thatraya seemed to be able to read Thyrena’s troubled thoughts, for she spoke wistfully. “It will be hard. Take Havana with you—” Thatraya’s sentence was cut off by a coughing fit that racked her shrunken body. When it was over, she collapsed wearily onto the pillows with no energy left.

It was hard to believe that two weeks ago, she had addressed an assembly of Midnight’s Watch with a proud, commanding voice from her stallion’s back. Thyrena tried to bury the panic seizing her as she watched her ema fade into death.

“The Diamond Sword?” Thyrena questioned in awe. “But I’m supposed to be twenty years old to take the Royal Throne and Sword!”

“It is yours by right. Keep it safe.” She paused to catch her breath. “Even the lowliest of subjects knows the Sword.” Thatraya grabbed Thyrena’s hand and spoke in earnest. “Keep Havana from —” She sunk back into the pillows for the last time. Her last breath left her like a sigh of wind, and she was gone.

Thyrena felt a wave of dread as she leaned over to feel for breath. None. “Ema? Ema!”

The healers rushed over once more. Kuana Test, the lead healer, shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. She is gone to walk the Silver Road.”

“No!” Thyrena cried, crumpling to the bed. She felt as though her body and her world were being ruthlessly cut to pieces. All she wanted to do was weep, but awareness of the others caused her to desperately pull herself back together. Thyrena forced herself to stand, took Havana from her mother’s bedside, and slung it on her belt beside her own sword.

“Will Your Highness take up the throne now?” a door servant asked.

Thyrena was vainly considering her answer through the fog in her brain when a tall, powerful man strode into the room. The servants and healers scampered away from the bed, to give him privacy. Thyrena looked up as her stepfather entered. His stately face held a remarkable calm as he took in his surroundings.

“What happened?” he demanded. Draven’s gaze shifted from his wife’s daughter to rest on the bed. He noticed the blue tinge of Thatraya’s skin. “How can this be?” he questioned furiously. “How could you let her die?”

Thyrena caught a slight glint in the corner of his eye as he spoke.

“She defeated the wound differently than we hoped, Milord,” Kuana guardedly replied from the edge of the room.

“I would have thought such a small wound would not be difficult for you to handle. She was only pierced by an arrow,” the queen’s husband explained, anger in his voice.

“The poison on that arrow has never been seen in these parts,” the woman replied, still watching him.

“Then perhaps it’s time Midnight finds a more knowledgeable chief healer.”

“Steptata?” Thyrena interrupted quietly.

Draven turned from his challenge of Kuana, his expression softening. “My dear?”

“Do not speak of the healers so. They are the best in the world.” Kuana in many ways replaced the grandmothers Thyrena had never chanced to meet. It distressed her to see the woman demeaned.

“My wife, your ema, is dead because of their incompetence,” he reminded her. “I will not hide my grief!”

Silence followed his statement.

“Excuse me, steptata,” Thyrena replied in a whispery tone. “I wish to mourn my ema alone.” She walked out of the room without looking up, her long, straggly hair falling in her face and hiding her tear-filled eyes.

“She’s gone! She wasn’t supposed to die! Ema, I need you!” Thyrena screamed as burning tears poured down her face. It was more than she could comprehend. “This isn’t supposed to happen!” The people of Midnight could live up to five hundred years and her parents both died shortly after turning one hundred. Most children had hundreds of years with their parents. She hadn’t enjoyed even eighteen.

Thyrena collapsed against the cold, black stone of her terrace. Her mind traveled back to the battle of last Moon. Wars were messy affairs. She could still almost smell the sickly sweet odor of blood and sweat filling the air. Doubt was her companion that day.

She’d been tired and asked her ema how many Raiders were left. “We can handle them!” Thatraya encouraged. “Just fight like a true heir!” But then she cried out in pain and fell back in her saddle. Thyrena grabbed her ema to keep her from falling. Rae Karly was there immediately. But it hadn’t been enough.