Long Live the Queen

The sharp screams of alarm rose like smoke from the courtyard below. I dropped the water I’d been holding. My body moved toward the balcony before my mind caught up. The white curtain wrapped around my face; I ripped it aside and gripped the stone railing. Soldiers in black armour, a style I’d never seen, stood in perfect rows outside our gates. They let out a loud stomp. All turned to watch a man emerge from the smoke. My fingers dug into the stone until my knuckles whitened.

Him. I recognised him instantly; the neighbouring prince himself. His face tilted towards me, a calm smile playing on his lips as though he had already won.

My stomach clenched. We were sixteen at the gathering where we met, small enough to hide behind the pillars and just watch the adults dance. He had found me hiding, come to crouch in my hiding spot, and offered me almonds from his pocket. The almonds had tasted like ash in my mouth.

I sprinted from the balcony. My dress snagged around my legs. The goblet I dropped was now shards on the floor. Crossing to my bed, I hiked my skirts, dropped to my knees, and opened the trunk. Silk and velvet spilt across the cold stone floor—blues, greens, and golds forming a river as I dug deeper. My nails scraped wood. There: cold metal wrapped in linen. I pulled out the sword. The cloth fell away, and polished silver caught the light.

Mother's blade. I stood, testing its wright. Heavier than I remembered, the leather grip was worn smooth where her hands had held it. I drew it from its sheath, the sound sharp and bright in the quiet room. Moonlight ran down the edge like water.

The door crashed open, forcing me to hold the sword out.

“Princess” Daphne stumbled in, her grey hair escaping its pins, chest heaving.

“Move the dresser, they’re...”

She saw the sword, and her mouth closed. We stared at each other across the room, she in her servant’s apron, me in silk with a blade in my hands. The screaming outside grew louder. closer. I waited for her to tell me to hide. To be sensible. To remember my place. She crossed the room in three strides and wrapped her callused hands around mine on the sword grip. Her palms were warm. Steady.

“Tell me what to do.”

My throat closed. I swallowed hard and found my voice. “The hidden hall. Get everyone you can find down there. Children first.”

She squeezed once, then released me and ran.

I moved to the balcony. Smoke rose from the merchant quarter, three columns of it, bright against the dark sky. There was a clam of thunder. A woman’s scream cut through the air, then stopped abruptly. My city was now being burnt around me. I looked down at the blade in my hand. At the blood groove running down its centre. At my own white-knuckled grip.

I stood alone, sword in hand, and stared into the sotm. This could be the day I died, or the day I proved I was more than a girl locked in a golden cage.

I was not just a daughter, not just a princess.

I was their leader now.

Steeling myself, I stepped into the corridor.

Three guards stood scattered along the hall. Boys, really, are barely old enough to grow beards. They turned when they heard my footsteps, and their eyes went wide.

“You”, I pointed at the tallest.

“Get to the armoury. Bring every spare blade, every shield. You two, barricade the servant’s entrance. Use furniture, use doors, I don’t care. Nothing gets through”

They didn’t move.

“Now!”

They scattered. I ran towards the grand hall, my bare feet soundless on stone. The front doors, twelve feet of oak and iron, groaned under repeated impacts. The loud banging echoed through the hall, and dust rained from the ceiling with each strike.

Four guards remained, backed against the far wall. I saw it in their faces, the fear. The readiness to run. I stepped in front of them and raised the sword.

The doors exploded inward. Metal shrieked, wood splintered. A man in black armour appeared in the doorway, sword swinging. I ducked under his blade and drove mine up under his arm, where the plates met. Blood splashed my hands. He fell. Another rushed in, then another. My world shrank to steel, breath, and the burning in my arms. A blade grazed my shoulder—first hot, then cold. I spun, slashing my attacker’s throat.

Someone screamed. It might have been me.

The guards now fought beside me rather than pressing against the wall. We formed a living barrier—five bodies between the enemy and the people hiding deeper in the palace. But enemy soldiers kept coming. A guard to my left fell, then another. The hall floor turned slick. My foot slipped, and I hit one knee. A shadow loomed over me, sword raised.

I waited for the blow, but when I opened my eyes, Alecs was standing over me, his blade still in the enemy's back. My personal guard hauled me up by my elbow. Blood matted his grey hair. A gash split his cheek from his eye to his jaw.

“Go”, I gasped, shoving him towards the back stairs. “Get them out. The passage behind the kitchens...”

“No”

“That’s an order.”

He grabbed my face with both hands and pressed his forehead to mine. His breath was ragged and warm.

“I’ll see you again.”

His words hung in the air, like a music note, then he was gone. Shouting for the others to follow, I was alone in a hall full of dead men. The enemy soldiers hesitated at the threshold, boots shuffling in the blood.

Turning on my heels, I looked them in the eye before raising my voice.

“Is this what you came for? A girl with a sword?” I laughed, letting it echo through the cold walls. “Come on then!”

I turned and ran. Past the shattered windows and the portraits of my ancestors—their painted eyes watching me—as my lungs burned and my legs screamed. I didn’t stop until I reached my chamber, slamming the door before throwing the bolt and shoving my dresser across it.

Silence.

My breath came in sobs. I leaned against the dresser, sword still gripped in my shaking hands, and waited for them to come. To break down the door. To finish it.

Nothing.

The hair on the back of my neck rose as silence stretched on. I scanned the room slowly—empty, but my senses insisted I wasn’t alone. It was as if invisible eyes tracked my every movement, and the air felt thick, pressing against me like wool.

“I know you’re here.”

laughter answered, soft and cold, curling around me like smoke. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. My heart stuttered. That laugh, I’d heard it before, in my dreams that left me gasping awake in tangled sheets. In the space between sleeping and waking, where nothing was quite real.

“Show yourself!”

Silence. Then, the sound of the soldiers banging from outside.

The door shook under heavy blows. I spun, raising my sword. A scream beyond the wood. Then gurgling. A wet, heavy sound of something falling.

The pounding stopped. One knock. soft. Almost polite.

My sword arm trembled. I crossed the room and grabbed the dresser, muscles screaming at me to stop. I shoved it aside, the wood scraping loudly across the stone floor. Every instinct urged me to hide, but I kept forcing myself to move.

I yanked the door open.

A man stood in the doorway, head bowed. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Shadows clung to him like living things, obscuring his face. One of our swords hung from his hand, dripping. Bodies lay scattered behind him. I counted four. Five. All twisted at wrong angles. He hadn’t made a sound.

I should have been terrified. Every instinct screamed danger. But beneath the fear, something else stirred. Recognition, like remembering a dream.

He raised his head slightly. I still couldn’t see his face.

“Hello, love.” His voice was velvet over steel.

My breath stopped.

“Thank you.” I kept my voice level. “For the rescue. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

I moved for the door. He was suddenly there, one hand raised. Not touching me. Just....there. An invisible wall. “

I stumbled back. “Let me pass.”

“No.”

“Please,” the word came out softer than I intended. needy. I hated it.

His laugh echoed through the room. When I blinked, he stood by the window, one hand extended towards me. Still cloaked in shadow. But I felt the pull of him like a tide, dragging me forward.

My hand lifted, reaching for him, when a woman screamed outside. The spell broke. I darted for the balcony. The city blazed. orange light reflected off the canal water, turning it to blood. smoke columns rose everywhere now, merging into a single black cloud that blotted out the moon.

Bodies in the street. Too many to count. I staggered backwards and hit something solid. Warm. Turning, the shadows had fallen away. Golden eyes met mine. Sharp cheekbones. Dark hair falling across his forehead. Beautiful in the way poisonous things are: bright colours that warn—don’t touch.

The prince.

“Are you going to kill me?”

He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle to solve. I forced myself to pace. to breathe. To think.

“You don’t talk much.”

When I turned, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. casual, as if we were discussing the weather and not standing in a burning palace surrounded by corpses.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, princess?”

heat flashed through me. “Don’t call me that.”

“But that’s what you are.” his lips curved. amused.

I opened my mouth. closed it. Sitting heavily on the edge of the bed, I pressed my hand against my temple. The screaming outside had stopped. just the wind and oncoming rain now. And the crackle of distant thunder. I was tired.

I stood, my legs unsteady, and walked towards him. “Okay.”

His eyebrows raised as he unfolded his arms.

“I’m ready.”

“For what?”

“You’re here to kill me. So...” I stepped back and dropped the sword. “I’m ready.”

He stared at me for a long moment. Then laughed, a real laugh, surprised and genuine.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Rage ignited in my chest. I shoved him, both hands against his chest, putting my whole body behind it. He didn't budge. might as well have shoved a stone wall.

I shoved again. harder. “No? No? You....” shove. “burn my city...” shove. “Kill my people...” shove “and you won't even...”

He caught my wrist. gently. His hands are warm. I stopped, panting.

We stood frozen like that, his fingers circled around my wrist, my pulse hammering against his palms. The room felt smaller. Hotter. I pulled free and walked to the balcony. The wind had died. even the smoke seemed to hang motionless in the air.

Below, hundreds of soldiers knelt in perfect rows. heads bowed. waiting.

I turned slowly. “Why are you here?”

He reached into his coat and withdrew something, an old piece of parchment, creased and stained. He unfolded it.

my handwriting. looping and careful, the way I’d been taught by tutors who rapped my knuckles when I smudged the ink.

‘I would give anything. please. He has to die.’

The letter I’d sent three months ago, sealed with wax I’d stolen from my father's study. sent with a merchant who owed me a favour. I’d written it after Father struck Daphone for bringing me breakfast late. After I’d watched her fall and not helped her because princesses don't tend to servants in front of their fathers.

After this, I’d decided I was done being helpless.

“Because you called.” The prince glanced towards the window. “Or should I say...your majesty?”

My gaze slid from him to the kneeling soldiers. back to him.

“And my father?”

“dead.”

The word hung in the air between us.

I waited for grief. for horror. for something.

Instead, I felt my lips curve. Just slightly. a smile I couldn't quite suppress.

I stepped closer enough to feel the heat radiating from him. close enough to see flecks of amber in his golden eyes. I reached up and cupped his face with both hands.

He froze.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

When I pulled back, his eyes had darkened. His hands settled on my waist. warm and certain and so terribly naive. He thought this was his victory. His conquest. The princess he saved, grateful and pilant in his arms. He thought I'd called for rescue. I let him think it. Let him hold me. let him believe he’d won. outside, the soldiers still knelt. waiting for an order from their prince. from their new queen.

Moving onto the balcony. The rain was coming down to put out all the fire; I watched it hit the ground in a hail of thunder. The soldiers just stood there, looking up at me. As I watched the rain cleanse the night, I knew then that I had won, and I hadn't even had to lift a sword towards my father.