ELARA
I've been sitting on this throne for three hours, and I want to scream.
Not because the seat hurts—my body stopped feeling pain somewhere around year five hundred. Not because these kings are arguing—they always argue. They've been arguing about the same stupid border for thirty years, which feels like thirty seconds to me.
I want to scream because I have to pretend to care.
"Your Majesty," King Harald booms, his fat face turning purple. "Surely you see that King Veron has stolen my land!"
King Veron jumps up. "Stolen? I won that territory fair and square!"
I rest my chin on my hand and count the crystals in the ceiling. Two thousand, four hundred, and sixty-three. I've counted them at every Grand Summit for the last two hundred years. The number never changes.
Unlike these kings. They die every few decades and new ones take their place, all saying the same things, making the same mistakes. Sometimes I forget their names. Why bother learning them when they'll be dust so soon?
"Queen Elara?" Harald is staring at me, waiting.
I straighten in my throne. The black crystal is cold against my back, just like my heart. "King Harald, that border has shifted seventeen times in the past century. It will shift again after you're both dead. Does it really matter?"
The room goes silent. Oops. I wasn't supposed to say that part out loud.
Lord Matthias, standing beside my throne, clears his throat. He's been my advisor for forty years—practically yesterday in my time. I saved him from execution once. He's always been loyal.
"What Her Majesty means," Matthias says smoothly, "is that we should focus on lasting peace rather than temporary gains."
I nod, even though that's not what I meant at all. What I meant is that all of this is pointless. These kingdoms, these people, these problems—they're all going to disappear. But I'll still be here. I'm always here.
Three thousand years of being here.
Three thousand years of watching everyone I've ever cared about turn old and die while I stay exactly the same.
Three thousand years of this crushing, endless, horrible—
"Your Majesty looks tired," King Veron says, and I realize I've closed my eyes. "Perhaps we should adjourn for the day?"
"No." I force myself to focus. These meetings bore me to death—ha, if only—but they're important. People depend on me. I'm the Eternal Queen, the immortal ruler who keeps the peace between the seven kingdoms. I can't just give up because I'm tired.
Even if I've been tired for the last thousand years.
"Continue," I say. "I'm listening."
But I'm not. Not really. I'm thinking about my balcony back home, watching the sunset like I do every single evening. Waiting for something to change. It never does.
The meeting drags on. More arguing. More posturing. More—
"Your Majesty." Matthias's voice cuts through my thoughts. He sounds strange. Nervous.
I look at him. He's holding papers in his shaking hands.
"Lord Matthias?" I ask. "What is it?"
He doesn't meet my eyes. That's weird. Matthias always looks at me.
"I apologize, Your Majesty," he says, and his voice is too loud. Everyone in the room is listening now. "But I can no longer keep silent about something that threatens us all."
My stomach twists. That's weird too—my body doesn't usually react to anything anymore.
"What are you talking about?" I ask quietly.
Matthias holds up the papers. His hands aren't shaking anymore. His eyes are hard.
"These documents," he announces to the room, "prove that Queen Elara has been using forbidden dark magic. Death magic. She's been trying to kill herself."
The room explodes.
Kings gasp. Advisors shout. Someone screams.
I just sit there, frozen on my throne, staring at Matthias.
My friend. The man I saved. The man I trusted.
"That's not—" I start, but he cuts me off.
"She's obsessed with death," Matthias continues, his voice rising. "She experiments with necromancy in her palace. She searches for ways to end her own life using forbidden spells. Is this the stable ruler you trust? A queen who wants to die?"
"Matthias," I whisper, but it comes out broken.
He finally looks at me. There's no warmth in his eyes. No friendship. Just cold ambition.
"You've ruled for three thousand years, Your Majesty," he says. "Perhaps it's time to step down. Before your obsession with death destroys us all."
The other kings are nodding. Looking at me with horror and disgust.
I should defend myself. I should explain. I should—
But what's the point? Everything he said is true.
I am obsessed with death. I do use forbidden magic. I have been trying to die for three thousand years because living forever is a curse worse than any hell.
But I never told anyone. Those papers were hidden in my private chambers. Which means Matthias broke into my rooms. Read my journals. Stole my secrets.
And now he's using them to destroy me.
"I'm leaving," I say, standing up. My voice sounds distant, like it's coming from someone else.
"Your Majesty—" King Harald starts.
"I'm leaving," I repeat, louder this time. "You want me gone? Fine. I'm gone."
I walk toward the door, my footsteps echoing in the silent hall. No one stops me. No one defends me.
They're all afraid of me now.
Good. They should be.
I pause at the doorway and look back one last time. Matthias is watching me with a small smile on his face. A winner's smile.
And that's when I know.
This wasn't just betrayal. This was planned. Calculated.
But why? What does he want?
"I hope you got what you wanted, Matthias," I say softly.
His smile grows. "Not yet, Your Majesty. But soon."
A chill runs down my spine—the first real feeling I've had in centuries.
Something terrible is coming.
And I just walked right into his trap.