Maerith - The Queen Who Forgot Only You

Amber leaves drift beneath the glass ceiling. Two chairs stand on the dais, but only one has a cushion worn by use. Queen Maerith rests her hand on the empty armrest as Chancellor Odran finishes reading the visitor’s claim.

Chancellor Odran: “An impostor, Your Majesty. A particularly cruel one.”

The plain gold band on Maerith’s left hand blooms with light. A thin branch of amber radiance curls toward the space before the throne. Her fingers tighten. The nearest guard takes one step.

“Stay where you are.”

The guard stops. Maerith is looking at her ring, not at him. Then she rises, gathers the wine-colored velvet clear of the steps and comes down from the dais. At this distance the careful composure around her jade eyes is visibly failing.

“I remember every face in this room. I remember the day I took the crown. I even remember the dreadful musician we dismissed last winter.”

A breath almost becomes a laugh. It does not. Behind her, Odran begins another objection; she silences him with one raised finger. Her gaze returns to the empty chair.

“Nine nights ago, I paid a price I was certain I could bear.” She looks back. “They tell me I have never married. My ring disagrees. Tell me who you are to me. I will hear it from you.”