Racheal stepped out of the courtroom, her face swollen, each movement heavy with simmering annoyance.
Her steps were rapid, echoing through the stone corridors, a harsh rhythm.
She didn't spare a glance at anyone who dared meet her gaze, her mind already racing ahead to the solitude of her chamber.
The rest of the council members were out, as they diverged into different corridors.
Only Drigo remained behind, the countenance of his face blank.
Racheal's chamber was still some distance away, and the corridors felt longer than usual, each turn stretching her impatience.
Just then, Jazell brushed past Racheal. Her eyes caught the sour, pained expression on her face.
She paused mid-step, tilting her head slightly, curiosity and caution mingling in her gaze.
Racheal didn't regard her presence.
And just like that, the perfect explanation came crawling into Jazell's mind, cunning and irresistible.
Her smile deepened, a mixture of mischief and anticipation, as she considered how best to wield this newfound insight.
Something must have happened; it had to be the council, she was sure, and that also meant that her brother, Brandon, would be a mess.
Advancing toward the outer battlement terrace, Jazell's movements were imbued with an almost predatory grace.
The hallway unfurled before her, and a draft of the terrace came into view.
Her thoughts were a quiet whirl of strategy and anticipation, yet her composure remained flawless, a mask of serenity that belied the adroit cunningness beneath.
Her delicate curves were hinted beneath the gown she was wearing, the fabric flowing gracefully around her form.
Black lace traced the edges in intricate patterns, lending it a quiet sophistication.
She was right to come there, because there he stood taking in the atmosphere, his hands crossed behind his back, his gaze straight.
The wind twirled in his hair, strands wiping across his face.
"Lord hand?"
Jazell calls out when she gets to where he stood. He didn't respond and didn't make any sign to do so.
"If it helps, Racheal is fuming with anger, so you must have really stepped on her nerves."
She said, then raised her gaze to look at him before turning away.
"Why do you let her treat you that way?'
She had been meaning to ask him that question for a long time.
"She is the queen."
He answered calmly.
"You are the hand."
Jazell retorted, unfazed by his words.
"You deserve every bit of respect accorded to you in your station, and you let Racheal trample on it."
Jazell's voice was low, but it was obvious she sounded frustrated.
"What will you have me do then?!
Brandon shot back, his forehead creased, his eyes burning with rage.
"She is carrying the king's heir; apparently when he returns and sees that she is unhappy, his anger will fall back on me!
"That is if he returns."
She retaliated, her voice almost in a whisper; her words were rash but, to an extent, had a bit of truth in them.
"Until then you are not to allow anyone, even the queen, to make you look like a fool."
She shot him a stern gaze, then lowered her arched brows, trying to relax her strained muscles.
"I know you didn't just come here to tell me that, Jazell."
"It is Queen Jazell."
She corrects him, her voice dripping with seriousness.
He finally glances at her before retracting his gaze.
"What exactly do you want?"
"Your cooperation."
Jazell wasted no time in making her intentions known.
"There is a chance that the king might not return alive; he might die in battle. All I want is that you should remember you have a sister living in the walls of this castle.
When the time comes, you will be in charge of the affairs of the realms until Racheal gives birth to her baby."
"You are speaking in riddles, Jazell.
"I speak as bluntly as I always have, Brandon."
She snarled and then clasped her hand.
"It is you that has simply refused to understand me. You know exactly what I want and how I play my cards.
"Your words always seem to ring a bell, Jazell. As for your plot to overthrow Racheal and become queen dowager, leave me out of it."
"I thought by now you would have grown some balls, to know better."
Jazell said, eyeing him from head to toe.
"Does the Maakah blood not run in your veins? Huh?"
She questioned inching closer.
Brandon felt a headache coming.
"I came here because I needed some time alone.
"That is your sorry excuse?
She arched her brows in defiance.
"You have always been selfish, Jazell, and so is our father, Jarob, and so is our elder brother, Mavak.
I am Brandon Makaah, and the blood does run in my veins, but sometimes I suppress it.
I don't let it get into my head; I don't let it consume me!
His breath was ragged as he spoke.
"Believe it or not…"
She began staring into his deep blue eyes. "
"A time will come when it will consume you. Our selfishness is what earned us the phrase, 'The forces that bend the rules.'
Trust me, Brandon, if you let your emotions get in the way of how you are supposed to think and act, you will be destroyed before you even know it."
"I will not betray the king. I swore fealty to him; I shouldn't even be here discussing how I will take over if he were to die."
"That's the problem with you! You don't want to embrace your problems; you want them to come to you."
Jazell said before whipping her gown aside, then she adjusted the corset. There was a brief silence for a while.
"Were you the one? Who pushed Queen Tamina down the stairs?"
His words made her blood run dry. She felt a chill spark in the air as she slowly turned to look at him.
"Do you think of me as some kind of devil?"
She asks, with a dangerous tone playing at her lips.
"It is just a question."
"It is not!
She snapped, her icy gaze resting on him.
She took a moment to get herself back; the anger burning in her was too much. She takes a deep breath and shuts her eyes before fluttering them open.
"Apparently you see me as some kind of heartless bitch who would go to any lengths to get what she wants."
"Isn't that the case?"
He says, his hand fiddling with the ruby ring on his finger.
"Don't judge me."
She says with a disgusted look.
"You don't get to judge me!
Her lips were smacked together, her knuckles paling from balling her fist too tight.
"Anyone who sees what you are is allowed to judge you. If I wasn't so careful with my words, I would have long concluded you are having thoughts of killing the king.
I know you did not marry him out of love. You don't love anyone but yourself, and that is why I pity that baby in your womb."
His words were like heavy stones raining in her ears. Jazell became so dumbstruck that her words failed her.
He didn't look sorry when he said those things to her; he simply turned and took his leave, and she was left to nurse the pain of his words.
He took big strides as he made his way back to the courtroom; he was surprised to see Drigo seated on one of the chairs at the table, reading a book.
"You are here."
He mumbled, recalling the event from earlier.
"Sit."
Drigo said, pointing at a chair opposite him, his eyes still fixed on the book.
Brandon hesitated for a moment before strolling over to where the chair was. He pulled it out and then took his seat.
"I have already been scolded today; I can take anything you throw at me."
"Except that I have nothing to say to you but to ask you, "What are you doing?"
Drigo closes the book, then slams it down on the table, his eyes trailing off to where Brandon was seated.
"I only do the things I think are right, Drigo. You can't blame me if I go overboard sometimes."
"Arguing with the queen wasn't you going overboard. It was you proving to me that you are letting the authority bestowed on you get into your head."
Brandon stared at him as though he had just seen a ghost.
"For a man who is the only Black man in the castle, you sure do know how to speak your mind.
"So now you want to be racist?"
"No…"
Brandon answered and then sighed; he was exhausted.
"When I decided to be the hand of the king, there were a lot of things I didn't sign up for. It's not just the queen; it is everyone constantly reminding me I come from the household of Maakah.
I am greedy King Jarob's son, and all the sick judgement about him somehow applies to me too? The eye you are using to gauge me right now is the same way everyone sees me, Drigo.
I thought you were different… wanted you to be different."
His pride had been wounded. It felt good to finally speak his mind.
"That's not the way the king saw things when he made you the hand."
Drigo started off, allowing his eyes to trace the countenance of Brandon's face.
"The king saw a responsible young man, who was smart enough to know his left from his right. To make decisions that would lead the realms forward."
"You are supporting the queen; you think I overstepped by challenging her."
Brandon concluded, as if he knew where Drigo was heading.
"I am supporting no one. I have always been neutral, Brandon. Because when it comes to political affairs, once you start supporting anyone, the other automatically becomes your enemy."
"Then why are we still talking?"
Brandon's eyes darkened, a glint of uncertainty lingering in them.
"Because you happen to be among the few people who I can talk to without being judged by the color of my skin."
Drigo said, stating facts, then rubbed his palm together.
At his words Brandon scoffed and then rose to his feet.
"You have always been a man who has a way with words. I cannot but ask myself why I even listen to a word you say."
"Because you know I am right. I don't paint words or try to impress anyone. I tell you things as I see them. And what I see is a man trying to fight the will to be like his father."
Brandon stiffened at his words. He raked his hand through his hair, pressing his lips together. He raised his gaze, and it rested on Drigo.
"What else do you see?"