When an assassination attempt leaves a king wounded and his family endangered, his queen must find a way to protect all that she has sacrificed for.
◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. From the word of 'Danse Macabre', some years into the future. Mentions of violence, death, and execution. Brief descriptions of physical injury. Fantasy inspired by Arabian mythology. A balanced blend of fluff amid angst. All places and events are fictional and do not reference real life nations. Also, Husband Minho. I think that should be a warning.
◤Word count: 5.5K
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
"Call for the Atiba'a!" Jeongin ordered as several pages rushed to the wounded king's side. It had been an entire night's worth of travel to reach the palace, and although Minho survived the hasty journey, he was a mere dead weight by the time they'd arrived.
Servants and guards did as he instructed despite their reasonable confusion. He knew they weren't expecting them, at least not for a day or two. But it seemed that their assailant had other plans for them.
Jeongin noticed you standing at the end of the hall. The young prince was clutching the silk of your dress as he watched the servants help the king into the royal chambers. Seungmin had never seen blood, yet there it was, soaking his father's uniform in gruesome reds. It was a sight tough on his young mind.
"What is the meaning of this?" you marched up to the commander, anger, confusion, and worry furrowing your brows. Seungmin shuffled after you, his eyes full moons of horror. Jeongin knew no way to lighten his words for the young prince, "We were ambushed, not too far from Arba."
"Arba?" you restrained yourself from drawing in a sharp breath. The city was at least a full day's journey from the capital, just how fast were they traveling? More importantly, how critical was Minho's condition?
"No one was injured, save for the king. The attacker was set on him," Jeongin said before you asked, and if he didn't know you well, he would've missed the fury that unfurled in your eyes.
"And you let him."
Your words were salt to the wound of his shame. Jeongin might've been the commander of your armies, but he was also your and Minho's most trusted man. The attack shouldn't have happened. Not on his watch.
All he could do was keep his gaze steady and firm as he held yours. You were good friends, but when it came to Minho, there was no place for leniency. "He tried to kill him. Minho is wounded but he will be alright."
"And the assassin?" you raised a questioning brow and watched as Jeongin's features hardened into a scowl.
"Dead."
•✵•
You were twenty-one when you shattered the Sahira's Heart.
It freed you from a curse, but it left a certain hollowness in its wake.
