Einar joined my side, at my height as I remained a few feet off the ground, and bellowed, “Her Royal Majesty, Queen of Clydonia, God of These Lands, Ruler of the World, demands your presence in the Great Hall IMMEDIATELY!”

Here we go, I told myself, play the part of Wicked Queen, get your friends back, destroy the council, and right the wrongs your mother set in place. I can do this. I can do this. I repeated the words over and over, willing my heart to settle. My powers assisted and my heart obeyed, calming to a tolerable beat.

Pounding footsteps echoed in every direction, like a stampede. I lowered myself to the ground and adjusted the crown on my head, the teeth on either side sinking deeper into my wild tresses. Clasping my hands in front of me and breathing deeply in and out of my nose, a flicker of my power reached out, searching for the grounds for my daughter. I sighed internally, feeling her laughter in my bones.

On either side of us were long hallways, filling quickly with the uniformed guards, rushing to stand at attention in front of their queen. But in front of me stood the grand staircase, empty. I shot a worried look at Einar, and he glanced at me but shrugged his shoulders, an indication not to worry. The council room was housed upstairs. A call from the queen required everyone’s presence. To refuse under my mother’s rule usually resulted in death. I tapped my foot in annoyance, a move I witnessed on far too many occasions from my mother, hoping to ignite the spark of fear in her–my guards…at least until I freed my friends. “Enough with this,” I decided, angrily, waving a hand. The ancient power thrummed in my veins and curled around my hand. I flicked it away, sending it through the castle halls, searching for its next victims. No guard dared move as I stood there waiting for the report. My power returned to me quickly, winding its way back into my hands, delivering the news of no other souls in the grand palace.

“Where are the council members?” I asked the room, detached and disinterested, holding out an arm to inspect my gown. My question was met with silence. Einar spoke up, “Her Royal Majesty asked a question. And she demands an answer.”

“Don’t you mean Her Royal Highness?” A high-pitched voice floated down to us, and my head whipped to the direction of the intruder standing at the top of the stairs. Hulda, an older member of the council, smirked. Her age hadn’t withered her as much as I hoped. She stood with her back straight, her long blue hair flowing down past her shoulders. Her dark skin looked pristine from a distance, unaffected by wrinkles, but her body was thinner than I remembered.

“Hulda,” I addressed her, aware of the informality clearly rankling her, “come down and address your queen properly or risk a promise of swift death. Her laughter rang out in the echo of the staircase, and I fisted my hands at my side. “I’ll come down when the queen arrives, Birgitta.” The power pulsated under my skin, and I allowed it to flow freely, relishing the feel of it in my hands as I lifted them up and pulled her toward me. Her shock sent a thrill through me as she floated down the stairs against her will, landing with a thud in front of me. “Bow,” I commanded, and she narrowed her eyes, but sank to her knees under the pressure of my tendrils ready to strike. “Good,” I said, my voice dispassionate and insincere. She lifted her head, “Where is Her Royal Highness?”

I stepped forward, closing the space between us, and she stiffened as I leaned over to whisper, “You’re looking at her.” Taking my one hand, I placed it gently on her throat, but she stayed still. “Now, Hulda, you have two options. One,” I squeezed, “tell me where the council is holding my friends. Or two,” slightly harder so her breath stuttered, “die.” She said nothing, so I tightened my grip, and she gasped. Loosening it, I asked, “I’m sorry, did you have something to say?”

Her brow crinkled, and she spit out, “Never.”

“Very well then,” I decided, closing my eyes and holding out my free hand, summoning the blade at Einar’s side. I closed my fingers around the hilt and positioned my hand above her heart, ready to plunge. Her eyes widened with terror and she shouted, “Wait!”

I kept one hand at her throat but dropped my other arm to my side, smiling, “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She cursed, and I bit back the urge to slash her throat for the insolence. “The council decided your friends are to be held in the dungeon of their choosing. When you relinquish your throne, they will return home.”

I nearly dropped my knife, “Relinquish my throne?! My birthright? How dare you all.”

“Birg–” my fingers tightened once more as she uttered my name spoken in defiance, “Your Majesty…how do you explain attaining the throne from your mother?”

I lifted her up off the ground, using the strength I inherited from the woman I killed, tiring of Hulda quickly, “How did she attain the throne from her mother, Hulda? It’s the curse of the women ruling Clydonia.”

Her eyes bulged from her head as I squeezed the life out of her. A gentle cough at my side tore me from my rage, and I loosened my grip, allowing her to speak once more. “You left,” she spit out with enough venom to make me flinch, but I maintained my composure. “You think we would welcome you back with open arms? After you betrayed us and escaped to another planet?”

I swallowed, dropping her to the ground where she crumpled and gasped for breath. My worries of returning home were justified, I realized. Leaving cost me the support of the few who tired of my mother’s reign, seeing me as a coward for running away. Dropping the facade of the cruel queen, I dismissed my guards with a wave of my hand. Einar shouted out orders to occupy the exterior, and his voice faded into the background as I extended a hand to Hulda. She stared at my offer, confused, but begrudgingly took it and I hoisted her up. Gripping her hand tightly and pulling her in, I lowered my voice, narrowing my eyes, “I will not relinquish my crown, Hulda. But I am willing to discuss a compromise with the council.”

She gritted her teeth and bit out, “And how do we know you keep your promise this time? And stay?”

Steadying my breath and preparing for the truth, I explained, keeping my voice a low whisper, “Because my reason for leaving the first time has returned with me.” Hulda ripped her hands from me, staggering back, the realization dawning on her. Her breathing came in short spurts and she bowed her head to me, the first sign of respect clearing away some of my nerves and anger. With her head still lowered, she spoke in a shaky voice, “We thought…after what happened…we thought you turned your back on us. And some of us assumed you fled to the nearest planet to seek help and destroy us all.” Lifting her eyes up, she blinked away tears as they cascaded down her cheeks, “Why did you come back?”

Exasperated, I huffed a sigh, “Hulda, I had to come back. It is my gods-given duty to rule. Not to mention, the council stole away my friends from their home. Perhaps you all have some explaining to do as well.”

She shook her head, wiping at her face, “We…they…Your High–Majesty, your mother weakened inexplicably in your absence, and there are those on the council who took advantage, usurping some of her powers.”

Stepping forward, threateningly, my tone went icy as I asked, “How do I know you are not one who preyed on my mother, Hulda?”

She averted her gaze, “How can you question me, Birgitta? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Hulda, please!” I shouted then quickly lowered my voice again, “You stormed down these steps questioning my rule, demanding I relinquish my throne, and you have the audacity to ask how I can question you?”

We stood alone in the hall save for Einar hovering closeby, but our voices stayed below a whisper, despite the intensity of our conversation. She grimaced at my challenge, a hint I hit my mark, “I assumed you returned to destroy us. I apologize, Your Majesty, it seems you have quite the story to share. This news causes me pause though, and a part of me wishes to ask you to return to whatever planet you called home since you’ve been gone.”

I bit my lip, “A part of me regrets feels like a coward for leaving, but I refused to fulfill my destiny.” She raised her eyebrows and I snorted sardonically, “Yes, I know, my efforts failed miserably.”

Hulda took a slow inhale of breath before asking, “How will you tell your daughter of her future already promised? Of your own?”

My eyes fluttered shut, unwilling to shed a tear. The prophecy of the gods of Clydonia revealed how my story will end long ago. Every daughter kills her mother and assumes the throne. Nothing has ever stopped it from happening. Not in the thousands of years our planet has existed. I hoped to avoid it and prayed to the ancient powers to write my own path. But it never changed. One day, it’ll be me on the other end of the knife and Penelope the culprit. Perhaps I’ll deserve it too, just like my mother.