"I will die when my child is born. This is a known fact. But sometimes I wish I could strangle the stars by their neck and force them to write something else." - expert from Princess Lyka's diary, salvaged 7/24/20, found inside Tamli's Caves.
The country was still a little shaken up from the rebels last night. It was evident in the way the guards' shifted posts; with much more diction and focus than normal. Or the way the servants whispered of a Zaherian takeover under the clash of last night's ploy room's requests.
"Is your speech prepared?" Cuxal asked as she clothed me for today's events. My traditional day clothes were dyed different shades of red to signify a mourning period. Since a year has passed since his death date, Cuxal was able to put hand picked blood flowers imported from the southern cape of the continent.
" It's all remembered," I said as I admired my figure in the mirror. The red patterned cloth mixed well with the light contrast of the flowers. My hair wasn't pulled back into its usual knots. It was let out. The curls didn't bounce around like some of the villagers. It stood its place, not letting any amount of wind bother it. I looked like a real Sha. Like the ones from the regal period; who helped their family conquer lands far beyond Zahere.
"How are you holding up?" Cuxal asked, slipping my feet into shoes marked with the same blood flowers as my hair.
I fixed my shoes again as I tried to come up with a decent answer to quiet Cuxal's worries, "Fine. Zahere ahmed our threat and death day seems to be going without a hitch."
"I understand that, but your poster says otherwise. I am afraid civilians will do this and come up with their own conclusions." Cuxal said as she fidgeted with her red earrings. Pain struck the very core of my temples as her words sunk to the bottom of my stomach. Hakim is dead. My father made sure of it. He killed anyone who suggested otherwise. Anyone who heard a whisper of his condition. His grace is buried at the very outskirts of the royal graveyard. Away from my father's and I's future resting spots due to his rotted brain. Due to the fact that his very being could affect the livelihood of the royal family. Of Jorri.
I slowly turned to look at her and inched towards her until her back was pressed against the pillars of the dressing room. I met her eyes. Measured her disobedience. Searched for a hint of opposition in her spotless skin. "Are you questioning my grief?" I whispered, watching a ball of sweat collect fine powder in its descent. "Are you questioning the remaining Sha of Jorri's intentions?"
"Never Sha Lyka. It was merely a bad suggestion." Cuxal said, her voice wavering.
"That's great," I said, jumping away from her and returning to the fitting station, " You should add a few more blood flowers to the center of my hair to emphasis my grief," I remade as I handed her a bunch full of flowers still dripping wet from the lake running through Jorri's mainland.
…
"My brother captivated the very being of this great nation. His laughter and obedience was felt from the northern border all the way through Kaso. He commanded great respect and had plans for this nation that outnumbered his reign. He would have been an amazing king. An amazing leader of our empire. But his brain was rotted with the very seeds that the fallen nation of Zahere planted into its citizens. His brain started to rot his eyes, before slowly taking over his thoughts and actions." I exclaimed as I tried to look for the cavitation of the citizens. "He ended up dying an unscrupulous death. All due to the fallen nation of Zahere." I said as I waited for the approval of my father. He gave a slight nod from his chair inviting me to finish up my speech. "Although we have eradicated the behemoths of Zahere, their seeds still lie within our borders, waiting for a drop of water to ignite it." I stated, trying to pace each word out with as much patience and importance as each of the civilians standing below me. " I implore you to stomp out these seeds. Drown the seeds. Light their very roots on fire! Send anyone with early signs of a rotted mind to the hospital immediately. We are members of the richest and most pronounced nation in the world. We will continue to succeed under the guidance of Eze of Jorri and myself." I said through a strained smile. "Sha Hakim may have fallen, but our nation shall not. Our nation is invincible. We are invincible."
Claps echoed through the lechear hall. Chants formed from deep within far stretches of the croud and snaked it's way towards the middle of the crowd. Flowers from some of Zahere's magnificent flower farms. Tens of thousands of bodies faded from my view as guards ushered my father and I back into the holding area. Two story high doors rolled to a close as a few dozen guards blocked its view. The sweet feeling of relief was cut short by a blow to the back of my head. Black spots cluttered my vision as I staggered into the wall, trying desperately to alleviate the needles burning a hole through my head.
" 'My father and I'?" My fathers voice shouted as he neared. "'My father and I'!" He screamed into the crevices of my ear. " You don't run shit. You sit up there and observe. You stand at the stage once a year for the rest of your life and give a half assed speech on your brothers behalf. You don't add in your own words. Your own motive. This country doesn't belong to you. Because if it did, your words would spell the collapse of this great nation.!" He screamed.
Every word carved the invisible needles to dig further into my skull as I forced myself to meet his eyes.
"Your brother was supposed to carry out the motives. Not you. Never you. Do you understand?" His voice took on a very nurturing tone. As if he was lecturing a child on the proper dinner edutie.
His hands, freshly washed for the speech, grasps mine. It didn't feel smooth. The desert air must have lapped it clean.
"Your brother is dead. Your mother is dead. You are not married." He said, his hands pressing into the palms of mine. "You are a puzzle piece. One of great knowledge and pride. But you will be used in the way that's deemed fit for Jorri. You will fulfill your duty to your country and die an unforgettable death. That is your path. That is your way." He said, his pupils dilating with every word. He let go of my hands and walked off. His shoes imitate claps of thunder. Jorrian Eze's were known for their shoes. The workers put steel metal on the souls to amplify an Eze's presence. Jorrian Eze's from the beginning of time wore 'Eze shoes', but my father was the first to install subsequential metal around the entirety of the palace floors. I found it weird that he needed to amply his sound even more than the Eze's before him. For a while, I thought it was because he wanted to show that he was better than the other Ezes. But now I see it for what it truly is. It isn't just a show of strength, it's a pathetic attempt at shielding himself from his thoughts. Thoughts that come with the silence of being the weakest one in the world.