I swiped at the holo-letter once more. The fulvous glow remained blank, painting the room beyond it in lush golds. A flicker of hope urged me to return to my disorganized thoughts. Retrieving my archaic quill from its inkpot, I smoothed the linen paper once more.
A resounding ding preceded the importunate message. A growl rose in my throat, fingers tightening around the delicate metal grip of my quill. The glowing words consumed my screen, insisting I comply.
I closed my holo-board, the ambient light shifting to the cooler colors of early morning. Exhaling my frustrations, I tried to clear my mind. Father deserved as much. After weeks of no words, a few came to mind. I tentatively placed the tip on the page, prepared to ink my final goodbye.
A knock deafened my thoughts. The hammering continued, snapping my final nerve.
My quill flew across the floor, black ink splattering on the pristine blue walls. “Haven’t you interrupted me enough!”
The door slid open. Erik poked his head in, somber gray eyes hidden by tufts of dusty hair. “No wonder the duchess didn’t come down herself.”
I swallowed my anger, sitting straight. “Apologies.”
He smiled, revealing the tell-tale fangs of the Hounds. Mother and her family had never liked their kind, but Father’s childhood friendship countered their unease. He always said you shouldn’t squander a gift that can’t be bought. And so, the Hounds have served as our royal guard for as long as I’ve known.
With the gentlest of gestures, Erik retrieved the quill and set it on my desk. A feat for a man as burly as him, but the Hounds proved to be graceful despite their stature. “Still uncertain what to say?”
I sniffed haughtily, turning my attention to the scarred sheet of paper. “Like I’ve had a moment to think. The duchess’ importunate messages have been driving me mad. Why else would I resort to Father’s old paper and quill?”
The quill. My heart dropped as I observed the bent metal and ruffled feather. Decades under my father’s care and it had remained pristine. A day in mine and it was destroyed. Lifting the quill, a billion futures passed my vision. Nightmares filled with disaster and death.
The incessant ding brightened my holo-board, the infernal message demanding my attention. The duchess’s sorrow and request to speak.
Reading between the lines offered more context.
She felt no pity for my father’s passing, hence why she felt the need to badger me as I wrote his eulogy. With my mother, her sister, presumed dead for some years now, that left the crown to me. An underage princess who had little sense of ruling a kingdom and conducting affairs. Hence the second part of her message, the weaselly woman wanting to take advantage of my mournful state to appoint herself regent of the Orillian Union. An order that required my signature.
The thought tasted of sulfur, disgust clinging to my skin like ash. Even in my own quarters, she lingered in the air, haunting my sleep.
Until now. Eyeing the damaged quill, her unsaid intentions seemed… reasonable.
“Don’t.”
I rolled my eyes, glancing over my shoulder. “Don’t what?”
Erik reached over and closed the holo-board before kneeling beside me. Now eye level, I could see the hints of blue and green that made his eyes livelier than the other Hounds. “Your father wanted you to rule. That’s why he left the throne to you, not her.”
“Erik-”
“Say I’m wrong.”
My nostrils burned, heels pressed firmly into the floor. “I’ve given you too much leniency.”
He smirked, cocking his head to the side. “None I haven’t earned.”
Under my breath, I grumbled, “Fair,” before smoothing my skirt and turning to the bare sheet of paper. A thousand things to say, a million feelings to share. Words meant for a man who could no longer hear them. Words I thought I had time to share.
A single tear with the weight of a billion wet my cheek. I didn’t have time to cry. Only a measly five minutes to say goodbye to a father who deserved a lifetime. Five minutes before the chaos of foreign affairs, a struggling economy, and endless dealings with my bitter relatives.
“I’m not ready to be without him.”
Erik’s hand slid over mine, palm cooling the storm within. “None of us are. But we have to keep going. For him.”
My chest still ached with hindered sobs, heart clenched against the idea of mourning. I wanted him to walk through the door as I always expected Mother would. Say he’s okay, that he didn’t mean to cause a fright. That he was here, and everything would be okay.
I barely registered the notification, my aunt’s importunate message brightening my screen. The yellow glow shown on the white paper, highlighting every groove and bend. The broken quill sat idly on the desk, metal glistening in the light.
Patting his hand provoked Erik to stand. The pen held little ink, but it still functioned despite my mishap. Where I’d had no words before, black scrawl covered the page. A final goodbye to my beloved father, and a promise to my people.
Lifting the page, I glanced at my confidant. “Any thoughts?”
Erik’s fangs glistened in the warming light. “He’d be proud.”
“Good.” I closed the holo-board, the duchess’ message unanswered. “Then it’s time to face the galaxy.”