Glory was the color of her walls.

The walls that didn't want her, that didn't need her, and that always found the strength to remind her she would never be their own. Within those fake promises, she wove her nest; surrounded by the cold, she watched it untwist. Maria had nothing but silk to cover her frozen legs, nothing but stingy nettles to bring to the graves of those who had built the bloody structure. It was the museum of the dead, the cage of the living. To break the clocks that ticked misfortune meant to unlock the feelings buried deep inside. Her destruction was invisible to the world of empty wishes. She never fought back, for she had something more important to protect. Her lily grew peacefully under her sun until they came to take it. Cruel and rough were their fingers as they attempted to strip it of its petals. But even the barren land they had left behind wasn't enough to hide its potential. Completely beat up, it shone more brightly than it ever had.

As the door in front of her opened, Maria jumped from where she sat on the stairway. A gush of golden light, visible to a mother only, completely overflew the nightmares that had accumulated in the entrance hallway of the ancient castle. She was the hope they feared, their monster with diamond jaws. With uncertain movements filled with feverish joy, Maria made her way towards the girl in an extravagant black dress. Slowly, with shaky fingers, she touched her face. Once she had made sure she wasn't just a product of her imagination, Maria embraced her daughter for the first time in years. As she felt Diane's heat enwrap her chilblained skin, she tried to remember why a queen was never allowed to show emotion. For the longest time, just a glimpse of Diane was enough to fill her heart with the bliss she desperately needed, but their separation was too long this time, the outcome too uncertain.

"Sweet child," Maria whispered over and over again as she ran her fingers through Diane's dark hair.

"I am finally home, mother," the princess said, a hint of melancholy in her voice.

"You must be very tired," Maria said, clumsily taking Diane's hand and pulling her towards one of the many dining rooms. "I ordered your favorite meals to be made."

Maria quickly noticed her daughter's reserved movements. She was too embarrassed to admit it brought her joy instead of grief. "Come," the queen urged her daughter. "We have so much to talk about."

But the princess seemed absent. She walked aimlessly, her eyes scanning her surroundings. A feast that spread before Diane didn't seem at all tempting. In fact, it was more shallow than usual. Was it because of the distance in her heart or the unnatural splendor of the furnishing that Diane longed for a simpler and warmer place? The time when it was all her own now seemed like a feverish dream. Who was she now, if not the scandalous princess?

"Thank you, mother," Diane said as warmly as she could. "I am afraid I am not hungry yet. Is father here?" Diane asked unenthusiastically, though her heart beat at an unusual rate.

"I believe so," Maria answered. She tried to hide the sudden disappearance of fulfilling emotions in her tone by smiling at Diane. The abnormal movement of her lips made things even worse.

Diane smiled in return. "I need to talk to him as soon as possible."

"I believe he is having a meeting with…"

"That is not a problem," Diane cut in, making her way towards the door. "Excuse me, mother, but I have some business to attend to. I promise to come see you later."

Ignorant of the pain her words had caused, Diane walked through the corridors of her childhood. The guards she passed silently acknowledged the presence of their future queen, while the maids bowed deeply. It all made her feel out of place. The month that had passed in imaginary exile changed her; the misery and loss she had suffered broke her pride, turning her into something less royal. But the determination and confidence stood still. Diane slammed open the door to her father's study. He was sitting with his legs crossed on a chair made of fur. Before him, covered in orders of all kinds, was one of his royal advisors. Diane strongly disliked them all, so she didn't bother learning their names.

They will all be replaced anyway.

Brandon looked at her with annoyance. "Can’t you see I'm busy? Come back later."

"It is a pleasure seeing you too, father," she said with a mocking smile. "Have you been well?"

He told his round companion to leave the room. As the advisor made his way past the princess, he gave her a daring glare. Like she was the ignorant one. It made her skin crawl.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"I believe you once told me to choose my companions carefully," Diane said once they were alone. "This one must have slipped your mind."

"You have become quite talkative. The past two weeks must have been quite refreshing," Brandon responded, still not moving from his seat.

Diane stood in front of him. She had no intention of ever bowing to him again. "If only you knew."

The king smiled. It was dark and warning, but she was scared of nothing. "What is it?"

It was that ticking sound again that made her lose her mind.

“The Will is gone. I wasn’t able to retrieve it.”

“I know.”

“What?!”

Brandon mocked her with an innocent smile. “I might not be your perfect father,” he begun, rising from his seat and coming to lean onto the front side of his desk, somewhat closer to Diane, “but I am the perfect king.”

Another challenge she couldn’t win. “How wonderful.”

“Isn’t it?” He smiled again. “Is he dead?”

“Yes,” she choked a bit.

“I see. I told you you were too much for him.”

“Well, congratulations.”

She was ready to leave, but her father wasn’t ready to let her go. There were more moves he had carefully prepared.

“What did it say? I know you’ve read it.”

So, instead of being the wonderful daughter they all expected to see, she decided to show them her ugly disposition. As ancient letters disappeared into thin air, she looked at the ceiling.

“Like you don’t know.”

Brandon smiled. Diane felt all the spirits in the room run and hide before such an ungodly sight. “Of course I do. I just wanted to her you say it.”

“I wonder what I should do with this information.” Diane had mockery in her eyes. “This is the monster you have created, father. You better be careful lest it should run wild.”

Brandon nodded, still smiling. He clapped his hands and said: “So, about that friend of yours…”

“Isaac?”

“No, that other one.”

“I have no other friends.”

Brandon paced around a bit. “Right, sorry. That subordinate. Kyla, was it?”

There it was, the monster with diamond jaws. It was lurking in the shadows of the daytime, sitting on a furry chair, waiting to swallow her with its eyes.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Diane let out.

“Dispose of a threat? Trust me, dearest, I would.”

“She’s a Raven. She has nothing to do with you.”

“One would think we would have stopped making such assumptions by now. We are all working towards the same goal, aren’t we?” He smiled again. “And wasn’t she in charge while you were away? A portal was opened then. It created quite the chaos in Lewtown. Who is to say she didn’t do it on purpose?”

Maybe he saw in her eyes that he had crossed the line. But Brandon Hunster knew nothing of affection, only keeping people alive. Survival was the greatest present in his opinion, and he was giving his daughter every tool she needed.

“Bonds, as I have told you, are the burden that will drag you to the bottom,” he remarked, back to sitting on his chair.

Diane was shaking. “But are the only thing that will help me swim. I can’t drown if I never lift my head above the water.”

“It is above the water,” Brandon replied. “I made sure you never find out what it is like to be just below the surface.”

He was completely in the shade. Diane saw nothing but a huge piece of charcoal. “Father…”

“Yes, Diane?”

“There is a limit to how much a person can take,” she said with such determination and anger it was evident to Brandon that every word was coming from the bottom of her soul. “Kyla is your last chance. I can’t tell what I will do if you make the wrong decision.”

Brandon smiled again, only now she couldn’t see. “And do what? Kill me?”

Diane shook her head. “Oh, no. First, I will find out what you are plotting. All of it. Then I will make sure not a crumb of your dreams is left. I will do whatever it takes. Then I will kill your heiress so no Hunster could ever touch that bloody crown again.” Then she turned around. “If you keep in line, I will consider staying alive.”

There was no light in the fireplace, but there was ash. There was once smoke, but it was all gone.

“I will see you at dinner,” Diane said, lowered her head, and went for the doorknob.

“Diane,” he stopped her.

“What is it, father?”

His head was already buried in papers. “What I have ignored, I have ignored for you. What I will decide in the future, I will decide for you.” He put the pen down and, with a look almost humane, said, “Promise me you will think about it.”

“About what?”

“You will see. Close the door.”

And so she did.