Rayyan slowly trailed behind Vira, committing the unfamiliar path and surroundings to memory. Her predecessor’s seclusion meant that the palace pathways were not in her memories, making it a novel experience.
The occasional servant came across their path, stopping to bow or curtsey as appropriate. While most were unaware of who she was, the noble air surrounding her was indication enough of that she someone of importance – meriting that respect be show. The influx of information reminded her of her first days at the hospital. So many routes to memorize, people to recognize…
“Lady Consort?”
The hesitant voice broke through her musings, and she glanced at Vira who had stopped – standing off to the side of a uniformed man. There was a hazy memory associated to the man…Sir Lenin.
Sir Lenin was an older gentleman who could be considered the Emperor’s right-hand man. While not the same age as the Emperor’s now deceased father, Sir Lenin was significantly older, having been with the empire through many years. He held a myriad of roles throughout his lifetime and continued to wear many hats in his service to the current Emperor. The strict man had been a part of the consort selection process, having come to the Dillon household many times during the time leading up to Rayyan’s selection.
“Lady Consort,” his naturally stern voice greeted, tilting his head in acknowledgement. Black eyes surveyed her from behind his silver framed round glasses, thick brows scrunched slightly in disapproval. Clearing his throat, he pulled out a cloth from inside his breast pocket and took his glasses off; gently wiping the already clean lenses.
“I must ask if you really wish to attend morning court, considering…” he trailed off, mouth pursed tightly under his equally tightly curled handlebar silver mustache.
Rayyan smiled faintly, nodding wordlessly as she awaited his permission to proceed. She understood his reservations. Her current appearance left much to be desired; but it was what she wanted. After all, an image was worth a thousand words.
Her decision to attend morning court left Vira with little time to prepare her. A proper bath was forgone in favour of a hasty sponge bath – Vira’s wide eyed expression was laughable – and Rayyan had stubbornly waved off the attempts to elaborately put up her hair. She requested for a simple fish tail braid, tied off with a leather hair band hid under a white ribbon.
Rayyan had similarly rebuffed Vira’s quiet recommendation in regard to applying a touch of makeup. Even more so, she had the young maid dress her in the darkest dress she had available – a borderline black silk gown, with a sheen of dark purple that reflected when it caught the light. The boat neck cut covered her modestly, but still showed off her frail collarbone and neck. The sleeves hugged her arms tightly, showing off how thin they were, and the slight train behind her gave the illusion that the dress might bring her down with its weight.
Every choice was purposefully made, cultivating into an image that illustrated the opposite of a beloved consort of an Emperor. Delicate, frail and almost without life – why would Rayyan need to speak of the hardships endured when she could show it instead. Even the carat heavy pear-shaped emerald on her ring finger – the consort equivalent of a wedding ring – was chosen intentionally. It shifted loosely despite being sized perfectly only a few months ago.
Sir Lenin finished wiping at his glasses and placed them back on his face. He turned to address Vira.
“Are you her highness’s chief servant?” he questioned, tone flat with disapproval.
“Sir Lenin, I do not yet have a chief servant,” Rayyan spoke up softly, moving to block Vira’s taller figure from his view.
Sir Lenin cleared his throat, noting the matter mentally. “In that case, I will escort your highness into morning court. They will be starting soon, so we shall make haste. This is your first time attending, is it not?”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The unexpected help was greatly appreciated, and she nodded, thanking him softly. She turned to Vira, who looked a little lost.
“May I ask that you find me after morning court?”
The young maid coloured red at the request, nodding so rapidly that a few wisps of hair escaped from her palace standard hairstyle.
She smiled and walked past her, following Sir Lenin to a pair of large imposing wooden doors, ornately gilded with gold. Two guards stood to attention on either side. Their eyes widened seeing the approaching duo, and they bowed respectfully.
“Greetings to Sir Lenin,” they echoed in unison, uncertainly glancing at each other as they stopped short of addressing Rayyan. As part of the small group of guards who were assigned to morning court duties, they were familiar with all the faces that passed through the doors. However, it was the first time they were seeing the young lady accompanying Sir Lenin.
Sir Lenin moved to the side, allowed them to fully view Rayyan. “It is Lady Consort Rayyan,” he advised. “Let the speaker know of our arrival so we may enter.”
“Greetings to Lady Consort!” they addressed enthusiastically, as if to make up for their previous uncertainty. The partner on the right cracked the door open, speaking softly to someone on the other side. There was a pause, before he stepped back and grabbed the large ornate door handle on his side. His partner likewise understood and copied his movements.
They swung the heavy doors open; at the same time a strong voice rang out.
“His excellency Sir Lenin enters morning court!”
Sir Lenin stepped through the heavy doors, and the chatter inside increased marginally.
“Her highness, Lady Consort Rayyan enters morning court!”
Before she could even move, the chatter inside quieted immediately following the announcement. Rayyan raised her eyebrows in amusement, and slowly entered through the large doors which gently shut as she crossed the threshold.
----------------------------------------
Calista shuffled through the papers in front of her, ensuring a fresh set were ready to take notes. The agenda today was fairly simple, but she wanted to be prepared to note down anything of interest if it came up.
She glanced to her left, noting the Emperor was immersed in the reports before him. Darius had returned from an expedition late last night and hadn’t had time to review the reports pertaining to this morning’s discussions. Knowing her husband though, he would quickly familiarize himself before the proceedings started.
The chatter around her increased, and she turned to see Sir Lenin entering the grand court room. She began to stand to welcome him but froze at the speaker’s continued announcement.
“Her highness, Lady Consort Rayyan enters morning court!”
The chatter instantly died down, enveloping the great court room in an atmosphere of silence. Calista’s eyes caught the smaller figure walking a few paces behind Sir Lenin. The young queen’s hands trembled as she saw all eyes directed towards them. Heart knocking against her ribs, she glanced at Darius from the corner of her eye – desperately trying to gauge his reaction.
Three months – three whole months she had successfully kept the two of them apart. It was her good fortune that the timing of everything worked out – as bitter as the memories were for her. Darius had naturally become so busy after their coronation that even she, as his Empress, rarely saw him – let alone having time for his once favoured consort. Rayyan’s personality also helped in making the separation easier; half of it fear, the other half grief at having lost her mother recently before her admittance to the palace.
But now…
The young woman child strode in, focusing on walking the carpeted path that cut the circular room in half. The train of her dark grown slowly dragged behind her, and she swayed gently with each step – as if its weight was barely manageable. Her dark hair coupled with the dark gown only highlighted her unnaturally pale visage, the slight blue under her eyes coming more pronounced. The frail figure seemed as if it could blow away with a strong gust of wind, but resolutely she marched on.
Rayyan raised her head slightly, trying to identify the faces as she passed by them. Unfortunately, most were new to her, but one figure stood out – his somber expression slowly twisting into ill-concealed anger the closer she walked towards the steps leading up to seats overseeing the court.
Duke of Dillon.
Father…
A burst of warm emotions flooded into her body, almost making her stumble. Her last memory of him was a bit more rosy cheeked, a little less lean. But it seemed the last three months had been hard on her father too. However, despite the loss in weight, he still held an imposing air around him. A head taller than most of the noblemen around him, he was dashing with his dark hair peppered with silver, tanned skin, and amber eyes.
Eyes which currently burned bright with anger, as he gazed at his only daughter walking towards him. Jaw clenched, his gaze swept over her rapidly – no detail missed. Had she walked passed in any other setting, he might not have recognized her.
Duke Dillon turned to stare at the royal couple seated above them, narrowing his eyes at the young Empress’s shocked face. The reaction alone was enough to make him understand the situation. Veins protruded on his clenched fist, and the air around him cooled – causing those seated around him to shift nervously.
Adora… what has our little girl gone through? He quietly questioned to his deceased wife, knowing she too must be watching over her daughter in her current state.
Rayyan briefly locked eyes with the man who was her father and smiled genuinely – an automatic reaction from within her body. His expression however only darkened, seeing the absolute joy – and what he interpreted as hope – in his daughter’s eyes. He was glad in his decision to attend morning court today, the first after having taken time off in mourning, or else how else would he have become aware of the current state of things.
Walking past her father, Rayyan followed Sir Lenin right up until the first step leading up to the overseeing gallery. He gestured for her to continue up on her own, and it was only then that she glanced up – first locking gaze with Empress Calista’s disbelieving eyes. Something told her that her presence served its purpose. She schooled her expression, and then looked towards the man sitting to the Empress’s left.
Emperor Darius Atlas Allard.
Her… husband?