Hated by her lineage, Iliya Dalaminai dwells in self isolation, awaiting the day her cousin marries so she might escape the Throne.
Feared by the Gods, Sorein Chakrine's crown is mainly a relic put on display at royal ceremonies to ward off evil.
Wh...
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He felt the tension in the room before the door was fully closed behind him.
His father strode over, taking a seat at a far-left table in the upper ring of the library. Most of the bookcases cascaded way above his head, almost hiding him from the outside world. The wood was a dark warm oak, just as the billiards room had been, the glossy surfaces reflecting lamplight.
"You've been here for all of an hour," Sorein said by way of greeting.
"This is the greatest library in the world," Andrin replied, the words clipped and sullen.
He sighed and stepped up to the table sprawling with etheris files, books, and ultimately useless maps. "They say you haven't come out since your arrival."
Andrin lifted his gaze to his son for a moment, looking him over before dropping his stare again to the thick book before him.
"They'll have my attention at the Final Ceremony for your Sealing," he said, the words coming out like slow waves.
"Have you found anything?" Sorein asked, tracing a hand over one of the loose files. He recognized it, a chart of every known cure both mortal and eternal. He'd read it himself two years ago.
His father didn't say anything for the longest time, tracing his eyes over the page beneath him. "Nothing we don't already know."
Sorein nodded, eyes darkening. "Then allow me to help you."
Andrin gestured to a chair across the table, the most response he figured he'd get at the moment. Not when the King's mind roamed in so many places.
So he sat down and picked up the nearest material to read from an untouched stack of files. Sorein always assumed he'd have better luck with case files than old books, so he put his head down and got to work.
Anything to relieve some of his father's stress.
~~~~~~~~~~
When the clock began chiming behind them, Sorein lifted tired eyes just in time to watch his father startle and hit his face on the table.
"You're not sleeping," Sorein managed in a groggy voice. He realized he hadn't spoken in what felt like hours.
His father raised a brow at him that Sorein would've found amusing in most circumstances. All really, save for this one.
He didn't know where to begin or how to ask, so Sorein gambled. "How is she?"
The cold exterior of an older king faded into the exhausted face of a mourning husband. Andrin's features softened, revealing the young looking face without wrinkles. "Unwell."
"What do you mean, unwell?" Sorein growled.
"Sorein," his father sighed. "I don't know how to tell you this but-"
