Page 1 of Iris of the Crowned Flame

CHAPTER 1

Something was wrong,the thought repeated in my head over and over, as I walked down the dimly lit hallways from Mother’s locked office to her chambers. Courtiers stopped talking and averted eye contact, casting their heads down and away as I passed. The only noise I heard came from my slippers smacking against the wooden floors as I moved as quickly as was considered prim. With every step, the air thickened, as if the castle itself was holding its breath. I turned the corner of hallway to find many people had gathered before her chambers. The commotion jarred me but one of the castle guards recognized me, and started elbowing people, forcing them to move out of the way for me.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, trying to disguise the panic in my voice.

“Princess, His Majesty is in the room, best you hear from him.” The guard who first spotted me informed me. He gently pushed a handful of my mother’s maidens out of the way. I followed, murmuring customary apologies. They were too busy bickering to mind me, and my mind couldn’t focus on their words.

Nothing but chaos greeted me inside her chambers. Courtiers, maidens, and guards, standing or sitting all around, talked or argued, creating such a loud noise that Icouldn’t hear any coherent words. I pushed through the crowd, finally laying eyes on the doorway to her bedroom. Two guards flanked the closed door. Between us, people tried to push to the door, but the guards blocked them. I was only a few steps from the door when a hand touched my elbow. No one ever touched me; touching unwed women like me was always considered improper. I stopped to turn to see who it was, finding a comforting face. Ethan’s crystal-blue eyes, so much like our father’s, typically held a sharpness that saw more than he let on—though most of the time, they were twinkling with mischief. His chestnut curls, always perfectly styled without a strand out of place, complemented the effortless charm of his signature grin, the kind that made people forget he was a prince at all. Broad-shouldered and effortlessly confident, he moved through life with the relaxed arrogance of someone who had never had to try too hard—whether he was twirling a goblet of wine at a feast or flashing a disarming smirk after narrowly avoiding trouble.

“Ethan! What’s going on?” I searched my older brother’s face for any sign of the answer. His firm jaw and lips masked the pain visible in his eyes. His hair was uncharacteristically unkempt, the way it gets when he had been running his hands through his hair, as if the act helped him work his way out of a dire situation. I couldn’t recall a time when I saw him this distraught.

“Lyla, come, Father will tell you.” He said nothing more. His words were hollow, and did nothing to help me feel ready for what came next. His tone left no room for argument, telling me whatever I was about to find out needed the privacy found behind that door in front of us.

The guards bowed their greeting to us before knocking. After a pause, a muffled voice called through, and one of the guards opened the door for us, Ethan entering close behind. The chaos in here was more contained. The court physician, Father, and a handful of advisors for both Mother and Father were in the room. They had all paused, watching to see who was entering.

Father’s normally steely resolve broke when we made eyecontact. His hand rushed to his face to muffle his sob and tears fell from his crystal blue eyes. The physician placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort but glanced at Ethan and me.

The door clicked shut behind us, and then the physician said, “I’m sorry, Princess, the Queen has left us.”

I immediately felt my stomach drop; my eyes widened. I looked around the room at all the people standing, none were Mother. My eyes landed on Father, trying to make sense of this, when I realized he was standing at her bed. There she was, under the covers, like she was sleeping the morning away. But I could see it in Father’s eyes, the physician spoke true. Father stared down at her, motionless, his breath shallow. The longer I stared, the more tears I see falling from his face to her blanket. His hands held hers, but her lifeless skin looked almost translucent against her black hair.

“No, it can’t be, she can’t be,” I whispered, before losing the ability to stand. Ethan reached for me, catching me before I fell, someone else carried a chair and helped me into it. Ethan sat on the arm of the chair next to me, one arm on my back to allow me to lean into him for comfort and whatever privacy we could get. He offered me his handkerchief, and I buried my face in it, resting my head against his chest.

‘A ruler must always remain in control,’ Mother had drilled into us. Her words echoed in my mind as I lost all sense of control. How could I control myself when this had happened? She was too young. We were supposed to be meeting this morning to discuss suitors for me. She wasn’t supposed to go yet.

After several minutes, my emotions finally tapered, allowing me to find the control I needed. I raised my head, finding only Ethan and Father staring at me. All others in the room busied themselves, giving us the space we needed to grieve.

I inhaled deeply, trying to find my voice. “What happened?” My eyes pleading for answers to anyone who would make eye contact with me.

Behind me, the physician spoke up. “Canwe have the room?” I glanced back, turning my head over my shoulder, to see him pushing the others out of the room.

Once the room cleared, he started again. “Nothing is immediately evident. She had no complaints over the last few days and had been perfectly healthy, not even a cold in recent years. I did notice this mark though.” He paused, easing to the bedside opposite Father, and motioned to a small scorch mark on her collar bone, almost imperceptibly small, jagged pink lines, like a fresh scar, and connected to look like lightning. “This is quite unusual; I haven’t seen it before. I will need to investigate it further prior to her burial.”

“What is it?” Father’s voice was raw but still issued a firm command.

“Nothing good, Your Majesty. It doesn’t sit well with me.” The physician’s eyes showed worry, but not like he normally appeared when someone is ill. No, this concern ran deeper, betraying the calm composure he tried to offer us.

Ethan cleared his throat, providing an unspoken request to speak. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but while I was in her sitting chambers waiting for Lyla to arrive, I received a message from the Council. It seems that word of this had already reached them, and they are demanding a meeting this afternoon.”

Father snarled. “They can’t allow us to grieve for one moment before their power-hungry leaches call a meeting.” He took a breath, calming himself before continuing. “You two better come. This will undoubtedly be about which of you will take the throne.”

Ethan and I glanced at each other. Her body hadn’t even moved. We only just found out she’s gone, and they’re already trying to push forward as if her passing was just a hiccup in their plans.

Wait. Succession? Not even I knew which of us would take the throne. While other countries do have traditions about a first born or the first of a specific gender, we didn’t. The throne simply stayed within a family, passed down to any child the previous king and queen felt were most worthy.

Both a king and a queen have also always ruled Elthas. Upon the death of one monarch, the other must marry againor cede the throne to their heir. After decades with her, there’s no way Father would want to replace Mother. Not when Ethan and I were old enough to step in.

I could hear Mother’s voice again, ‘We do not rule alone, because the Gods didn’t. How could we be so arrogant as to think we can handle running the kingdom better than the Gods ran theirs? We don’t have one god to show the way; thus, we cannot have one person leading us there.’

“Who… which one of us is it?” My voice quivered. Ethan had been considering offering a betrothal to a Lady of the court, but neither of us were ready. Me least of all. It was the last thing I wanted to do.

Father looks between us, concern etching in his face. “Your Mother and I were just discussing last week. We both wish for Lyla to ascend to the throne.” Father’s eyes remained on Ethan. “Your Mother hoped that you would advise your sister until you found an advantageous union of your own.” His eyes shifted to me. “And she hoped that you would find a suitable husband quickly.”

I nodded, hearing the underlying message. I had always been so very against marriage, and Mother knew it. She hoped to fix me of my beliefs about marriage, and about men, by putting me in a position that required me to marry. Plus, Ethan had never been one for any form of leadership, preferring to enjoy time in gambling houses and with courtesans. He might have been my older brother, but he was always the one goofing off, playing pranks, and teasing the ladies of the court over any form of responsibility. This was her way of bringing us both into the roles she expected of us.

When I glanced at Ethan, I could read the irritation. His emotions were always on full display, and this time was no different. The newly placed expectation angered him.

“I need to go back to my chambers.” My voice was flat, hiding the disgust and the anger at this decision.

---