Novels by umama

Margeret was right, Delroy was punctual and Atarah was late 15 minutes, her hair dripping wet as she had slipped on whatever she could find first thing. “I apologize for my late arrival. Let’s begin.” She said once she entered the hall, huffing. Delroy gave a nod and then began the meeting. They had started off with the taxes and construction, which made her zone out 5 minutes into the meeting. “Your highness, do you agree?” Atarah rubbed her eyes and looked at the staring eyes of the four men. Agree? To what? She thought, she didn't want to look like a fool just before coronation, “Yes, I agree.” she smiled. Delroy’s eyes lit up with her agreement as he said, “well then, there will be a ball on the coronation weekend.” “Uh.” Atarah nodded with agreement. She had no idea what the ball will be for, most probably to gain favours with the allies. “And what do you think of Prince Jaswer of Hargon.” she really wanted to squeeze the life out of Delroy, who the fuck was that? Atarah quickl

This wasn't the first time her birthday went so bloody. Atarah remembered her 14th birthday when her uncle had sent her to her first mission. It was to hunt a serial killer who had been kidnapping baby boys and eating their livers. She had found the man hunched over a fire, eating raw liver out of a dead baby boy. Atarah had vomited first at the brutal sight, and she wished for her parents to be there with her, to cover her eyes, and sing her back to sleep, saying it was all a dream. But she wasn't a 10-year-old anymore, so Atarah took a breath and took out her new sword. The man had watched her every move and then grinned. The blood dripped from his mouth, and his teeth were covered in little chunks of meat. He made a gurgling sound, as if calling her close to him. But Atarah knew best. She raised her sword just as the man stood up and brought it down, cutting his wrist off. The man screamed in agony; he ran forward, making those gurgling sound, and Atarah noticed he had no tongue.

The night was young, and the streets were filled with people enjoying the summer bliss. Black banners and flags waved at her as she passed by the shops. The mourning period wasn't over yet, and her citizen acknowledged that. Her red cape was hiding her figure and the mask hiding her face, but the huge needlework on the cape projected her birth and upon seeing it, many people bowed to her, muttering the phrase, “long live the queen.” Atarah didn't stop to nod or smile. This wasn't a summer solstice festival where all she did was smile. And wave at her cheering people. She looked o her right here at the empty alleyways and saw a black figure of a wolf walking with her steps. Atarah smiled. She knew Astara would never leave her alone. The port side was empty. Because of the recent murder, she saw as royal soldiers held back the few sailors who were curiously trying to take a peek at the hidden bodies. One soldier identified her and bowed, walking towards her, “Your highness, what bring

The next day, Atarah got ready for the funeral. She chose a simple black dress with her red velvet cape which adorned her house sigil. “Everyone’s ready to proceed, your highness.” Margaret informed her with a bow. “I’ll be right outside Margeret.” When Atarah stepped outside her room, beside her, Dragomir also stepped outside, wearing a black suit and bowtie. His silver hair was tied neatly in a bun. His kingdom and house sigil were stitched on his right breast. The memories of last night came back to her, and she turned away her head, hiding the blush which was forming. “Aren't you going?” he said, fixing his bowtie., Atarah nodded and led the way outside the palace, aware of Dragomir’s footsteps behind her. The funeral was held outside where the memorial burial house of the royal family was. Tulips grew in bushes surrounding the house, giving it a lively glow instead of a gloomy, dark place. The house itself was made of white marble, with hints of black and gray lines running thro

Atarah was already having a bad day. She decided the council needed to see who was in charge. “Delroy can’t always get his way.” She mumbled. Delroy must've been her father and her uncle’s advisor, but her rule will have some changes. She walked far away from the council hall and stopped in front of a circular window, which overlooked the famous Sargas rose garden. The weather was beautiful, and she wished to run to the waterfalls, where her favorite place lay behind the cave. Atarah had everything there, her practice weapons, and hidden wine, which she stole whenever the king would open his exclusive wine collection. She discovered the cave when she was 7 and on a hunt with her father. “Who does it belong to?” she had asked her father, noticing every single detail in the damp cave with wide eyes and an open mouth. Her father had chuckled at her reaction. “To us. It belongs to Sargas, to the royal family, to the people of Sargas. To you.” He cupped her face with affection and picked h

Margaret was the first person who rushed towards the guards and fell on her knees. “It was my fault.” She cried. “I asked her to flee. Punish me, leave her be.” The guards exchanged a look. They were confused, and Atarah felt a powerful emotion towards the woman. “No one is punishing anyone, Margaret. Get up.” Atarah bent down and spoke to the woman in her ear. “You’re the head court lady. Compose yourself.” Margaret wiped away her tears. Her faded red locks had come undone from the braid, her eyes were a mess from the running eyeliner. She looked at Delroy and then at the princess. Getting up slowly, she dusted off her skirt and wiped away the tears. A soldier handed her a napkin with a smile, and she took it, clearing the eyeliner off her face. “Listen up everyone.” Delroy gathered us around in a group, hunched over, “The princess never left the palace. She wasn't seen at the port. She needed some time alone to grieve.” He then met eyes with the three guards and Margaret. “Are we