Princess Selena was not her name; it was much easier to say
that it was her title.
Very, very few
people knew her real name, and it struck her as surreal and almost laughable
that none of the people in front of her right now could be counted on that
list. Yet here they were, in their gleaming armor with their heavy weapons, trying
to tell her how to do her job.
When the meeting had started, that morning, no one had been
able to tell that she was irritated. But here they were, after nearly a full
day’s worth of deliberation and debate, and there was no question: the reigning
monarch of the most powerful city-state in Phila was irretrievably angry.
“This conversation is over,” Selena said, rising from her
high chair with an air of absolute authority.
It was no surprise that Commander Lysandra Burke was the
first to speak up. “The hell it is!” She threw herself upward, very nearly
vaulting over the table at which they had been sitting for the past fourteen
hours, her scarred face twisting in fury. “You may be the head of the snake,
but don’t you dare think you can just
snap your fingers! Not this time!”
The very air around the council chamber suddenly went cold.
Princess Selena stood still as a statue. Her light grey eyes
were flashing like the constellations of a forgotten sky.
When she spoke next, her voice was a deathly chilled
whisper.
* * *
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