Ariana - Book Two:Queen of Shadows

Sequal to The Princess Ariana Chapter 1-2

Ariana - Book Two:Queen of Shadows

The obsidian throne dominated the far end of the hall, its carved wings rising behind the emperor like the shadow of a great bird of prey. Pale morning light filtered through the narrow windows, catching on the polished black floor and the gold thread woven into his robes. The emperor of Aranthor sat perfectly still, reading a report with the calm precision of a man who expected the world to obey him. Bootsteps echoed. A guard approached, bowed, and waited.

The emperor did not look up. “Well.”

“A man requests an audience, Majesty. He says it is urgent.”

“Send him away.”

The guard hesitated. “He claims to be the former ambassador from Telmara.”

The emperor’s fingers stilled. “Telmara,” he repeated softly.”

“He fled during the unrest, Majesty. He insists his news concerns the fall of King Hars.”

A long silence followed. “Very well, show him in.”

The guard stepped aside. Narrem entered the hall. He looked thinner than when he had left Telmara more than three years ago, but his cloak was still fine, his rings still gleaming. He walked with the careful dignity of a man who valued comfort too much to grovel, yet knew exactly how far to bow to survive. He knelt. “Your Imperial Majesty,” Narrem said, voice steady. “I bring information of great value. And I believe we may be of use to one another.”

“Rise,” the emperor said. “Speak.”

Narrem stood, smoothing his cloak.

“I served as ambassador to Telmara for seven years. I knew King Hars. I witnessed the unrest that led to his downfall.”

The emperor’s gaze sharpened. “You fled before the end.”

Narrem inclined his head, unashamed. “I did, Majesty. I saw the direction the wind was blowing. And I had… a conversation with a man of Mendona. A man who understood that Telmara was about to tear itself apart.”

The emperor’s eyes narrowed. “Mendona.”

“A quiet kingdom,” Narrem said. “Until recently.”

“Oh, why so? Explain.”

Narrem stepped closer, lowering his voice. “There is a girl in Mendona, Majesty. Ariana. A princess. A girl who hides something… unnatural.”

The emperor’s expression did not change. “Unnatural.”

Narrem nodded. “I did not see what she did with my own eyes. I left before King Hars confronted her. But I saw the aftermath. I saw the bodies. The burned towers.
The soldiers who survived spoke of… things. Shapes. Creatures. Nightmares made real.”

The emperor’s jaw tightened. “And yet no one could explain it.”

“No, Majesty. They were terrified. They spoke of shadows with wings. Fire from the sky. A great beast that nothing could harm. Others described things that vanished the moment they were struck. No two accounts matched. It was as if each man saw something different.”

The emperor rose from the throne. “Interesting, what else?”

Narrem swallowed. “Watchtowers burned. Men torn apart as if by claws larger than any beast known. Others crushed. Some simply… gone. The survivors were half-mad with fear. They could not agree on what they saw — only that it came from her.”

The emperor paced slowly, hands clasped behind his back. “And this girl,” he said quietly, “was at the centre of it.”

Narrem nodded. “So her uncle implied. He urged me to leave before the king confronted her. He said Mendona had kept her hidden for years. That she was… dangerous. Not by choice. By nature.”

The emperor stopped walking. “A force of nature.”

Narrem bowed his head. “Yes, Majesty.”

The emperor turned, eyes cold and calculating. “No sorcery. No trick. No illusion. And yet she bends the world around her. She summons destruction without weapon or army. She is not a threat, we understand.” He descended the steps of the throne. “She is something new.”

Narrem bowed deeper. “Majesty.”

The emperor lifted a hand. “Send for my chief advisor.” A servant at the far end of the hall bowed sharply and hurried out. The emperor waited only a moment before continuing, his voice low and controlled.

“When he arrives, he will dispatch word to my generals. I want eyes in Mendona. I want to know everything about this girl — her habits, her weaknesses, her allies.” He paused, the silence sharpening. “And I want to know how she can be tested.”

Narrem’s breath caught. “Tested, Majesty?”

The emperor smiled — a thin, dangerous smile. “Every threat must be measured.”

He turned his gaze back to Narrem. “As for you… You will serve as my ambassador this time. To Mendona. You will be my presence where I cannot yet tread.”

Narrem bowed so low his rings touched the floor. “Majesty, I am honoured.”

The hall emptied. The last echo of Narrem’s footsteps faded. Silence settled — the kind the emperor preferred. Silence made thinking easier. He remained seated for a long moment, fingers steepled beneath his chin. A girl from Mendona… hidden for years… capable of destruction no army could achieve. He rose slowly and walked toward the tall window overlooking the courtyard. Soldiers drilled below — disciplined, predictable, obedient. Tools he understood. This girl was none of those things.

If Narrem is right, she is not merely dangerous. She is unprecedented. He clasped his hands behind his back. Creatures no man could describe in the same way. Towers burned. Men torn apart by nothing they could name. He exhaled through his nose. Fear does that to men. But fear alone does not melt stone. He considered Mendona — small, quiet, politically irrelevant. A place that should never have produced anything of consequence. And yet they hid her. Protected her. Why? Out of love? Or fear?

He turned from the window. If they fear her, they cannot control her. If they love her, they will die for her. Either way, she is not theirs to command.
He returned to the throne, but did not sit. Could she be controlled? The thought lingered. Every force has a fulcrum. Every weapon has a weakness. Even storms can be redirected with the right pressure. He tapped a finger against the obsidian armrest. She is young. Untrained. Emotional. That makes her vulnerable. A mind like hers — if it bends the world around her — must be shaped by something. Someone. A slow smile touched his lips. If she can be guided, she can be used. If she cannot be guided…

His smile faded. Then she must be removed before she becomes something no one can stop. He sat at last, settling into the throne as if it were carved for this moment. Send the spies. Watch her. Learn about her. Find the lever that moves her. His fingers curled. And if she has no lever…He closed his eyes. Then Mendona will burn before she does. The emperor closed his eyes. A girl from Mendona. He whispered her name like prophecy. Ariana.

Chapter Two

The late morning light spilled through the tall windows of the Mendona palace, warm and soft. Ariana sat near the open balcony, one hand resting on the gentle curve of her stomach, the other stroking her little boy’s hair as he played with a wooden horse. The nanny watched from nearby, humming softly. Eldon stood a few steps away, sharpening a practice blade, glancing over with quiet affection. Ariana exhaled, content. “She is getting heavier,” she murmured.

Eldon smiled. “How do you know the babe is a girl?”

She gave a soft, amused “mmm, I just know,” barely noticing the habit she’d mostly left behind, except in moments of comfort.

The sound of footsteps. Fast. Urgent. A servant burst through the doorway, breathless. “Your Highness—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “The Queen… Queen Constance… she is asking for you. She hasn’t long.”

Ariana froze. “Mmm—” The sound slipped out, faint and broken, as if her mind were trying to catch up. “She… she… mmm… she’s—?” Eldon was already at her side, steadying her as her breath trembled. The nanny gently lifted the child from her lap.

“How long?” Ariana whispered, voice thin.

“Minutes,” the servant said. “She is fading.”

Ariana’s hand shook. She pressed it to her mouth, eyes stinging. “Mmm… no… no, she… she can’t…”

Eldon took her hand firmly. “We’ll go.”

Ariana nodded, though her throat worked around another small, involuntary “mmm.” She kissed her son’s forehead, lingering for a heartbeat before the nanny carried him away.

“Take me to her,” she said, voice steadier but still fragile.

The servant bowed and led the way. Ariana followed, Eldon at her side, her steps slow and heavy — the old speech pattern flickering at the edges of her grief like a ghost she thought she’d left behind. Behind her, the warmth of the room faded. Ahead, a farewell awaited.

The Queen’s chamber was dim, lit only by a few guttering candles. The air smelled faintly of lavender and old parchment — Constance’s favourite scent. The curtains
were drawn, muffling the world outside, as if the palace itself were holding its breath. Ariana stepped inside, Eldon close behind her.

Queen Constance lay propped against pillows, her skin pale, her breath shallow but steady. Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of footsteps. “Ariana…” Her voice was thin, but warm. “Come closer, child.”

Ariana moved to the bedside, fingers trembling. “Mmm… I’m here… I’m here, mother.”

The Queen smiled faintly. “You always were. Even when the world was against you.”

Ariana swallowed hard, blinking back tears. Connstance reached for her hand. Ariana took it gently, as though afraid it might break. My time is ending,” the Queen whispered. “But yours… yours is only beginning.”

Ariana shook her head, a soft, broken “mmm” escaping. “I’m not ready… I can’t—”

“Yes,” Constance breathed. “You can. You must. The kingdom will need you. Your children will need you. And Eldon…” Her gaze shifted to him. “He will be your strength when grief tries to hollow you.”

Eldon bowed his head, voice steady. “I will, Majesty. Always.”

Constance studied him for a long moment, her eyes softening. “You have been good for her. Better than I ever hoped. You steadied her when she was lost.”

Ariana’s breath hitched. “Mmm… don’t… don’t talk like you’re leaving.”

Constance smiled — a tired, knowing smile. “My dear girl… I have been leaving for some time.”

Ariana pressed her forehead to the Queen’s hand, tears slipping free. “Mmm… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Constance whispered. “Not truly. Everything I taught you… everything I believed in… it lives in you now. And in the child you carry.”

Ariana froze, lifting her head. “The… the child?”

Constance nodded weakly. “You already know. A girl. Strong. Bright. She will carry your light further than you ever imagined.”

Ariana’s breath trembled. “Mmm… how do you know?”

“Because I have seen enough of the world to recognise destiny when it stands before me.” Her hand tightened faintly around Ariana’s. “Protect her. Guide her. And when the time comes… let her choose her own path.” Ariana nodded, tears falling freely now.

Constance turned her gaze to Eldon again. “And you… Promise me something.”

“Anything,” he said.

“When darkness rises — and it will — do not let Ariana face it alone. She will try. She always tries. But she must not.”

Eldon’s voice thickened. “I swear it.”

The Queen exhaled slowly, her strength fading. “Good… good. Then I can rest.”

Ariana leaned closer, voice barely a whisper. “Mmm… mother… please…”

The Queen’s eyes softened one last time. “My brave girl… my shining star…” Her hand slipped from Ariana’s. Her chest stilled. Candles flickered. And Queen Constance was gone.

Ariana let out a quiet, broken sound — half sob, half “mmm” — and Eldon wrapped his arms around her as she crumpled against him, the weight of grief and destiny settling over them.

*****

The bells of Mendona tolled only once for a royal death — a single, deep note that rolled across the city like a long exhale. The people gathered in silence along the palace courtyard, heads bowed as the doors opened and the Queen’s bier was carried out, draped in lavender. Ariana walked behind it, her steps slow, her hands clasped over her stomach as though holding herself together. Eldon stayed close, not touching her, but near enough that she could feel his steadiness like a second heartbeat. The sky was overcast, with soft grey light settling over the procession. It felt as though the heavens themselves dimmed out of respect. Flowers were scattered along the path — lilac, rosemary, and pale blue blossoms Constance had loved — their scent rising gently with each footfall.

Ariana kept her gaze on the bier, her breath trembling. Every few steps, a faint “mmm” escaped her, barely audible, a sound of grief she couldn’t contain. At the centre of the courtyard stood the ancient stone dais where Mendonain monarchs had been laid to rest for centuries. The priests stepped forward, their voices low and rhythmic, chanting the old rites of farewell. Their words spoke of peace, of legacy, of the light a queen leaves behind. Ariana barely heard them. Her eyes were fixed on Constance’s still face — serene, peaceful, framed by the lavender cloth. She reached out, fingertips brushing the edge of the bier, as if memorising her face one last time. When the chanting ended, Ariana stepped forward.

The crowd held its breath. “My mother…” Her voice wavered, but she did not look away. “She taught me to be brave when I felt small. To be gentle when the world was cruel. To stand… even when I wanted to fall.” Her throat tightened. “I will carry her light. I promise.” A soft wind stirred, lifting the edges of her hair. Some swore later that the candles flickered brighter, as though the Queen herself had heard. The priests lowered the bier into the resting chamber beneath the dais. Ariana pressed her hand to her mouth, a quiet, broken “mmm” slipping free. Eldon stepped beside her, offering his arm. This time, she took it. As the stone lid slid into place, sealing Constance’s rest, the bells tolled once more — a final farewell. Ariana bowed her head in sorrow.

Chapter Three

The great hall of Mendona shimmered with candlelight, every flame reflected in the polished marble floor. Nobles filled the chamber in hushed rows, their mourning black replaced with deep blues and silvers — the colours of renewal. At the far end, beneath the high arched windows, the throne stood draped in white. Ariana walked the length of the hall with Eldon at her side, her steps steady despite the swell of her pregnancy. The murmurs quieted as she approached the dais. The High Steward waited there, holding the crown Constance had worn for decades — a circlet of silver and moonstone, simple but unmistakably regal.
Ariana knelt.

The Steward lifted the crown. “By the will of the people,” he said, his voice carrying through the hall, “and by the blessing of Queen Constance, whose reign brought peace and prosperity, we now call forth her chosen heir.”

He lowered the crown toward her.

“Ariana of Mendona,” he continued, “protector of the realm, guardian of its people… do you accept the burden and honour of the crown?”

Ariana drew a slow breath. “Mmm… I do,” she said softly. “For Mendona. For all who call it home.”

The Steward placed the crown upon her brow. “I present to you,” he declared, “Ariana, Queen of Mendona.”

The hall erupted — not with cheers, but with a deep applause. Ariana rose, her hand instinctively brushing her stomach. Eldon bowed his head to her, not as

husband, but as a consort. “Your Majesty,” he said quietly, pride warming his voice.

Ariana gave a small, trembling smile. “Eldon… stand with me. Always.”

“Always,” he answered. And as she turned to face her people, the weight of the crown settled — not as a burden, but as a solemn duty to her people.

A week later, the palace courtyard was still draped in muted colours from the mourning period when Narrem’s carriage rolled through the gates. The horses slowed, hooves clattering softly on the stone. Guards bowed. Servants stepped aside. Narrem descended with the same controlled grace he’d always possessed — tall, composed, his expression carved into polite solemnity. But his eyes flicked over the palace with a calculating sharpness he didn’t bother to hide.

Ariana waited at the top of the steps, Eldon beside her. She stood straight, crown catching the pale winter light, one hand resting lightly on her stomach. She looked every inch the queen she had become. Narrem bowed deeply, “Your Majesty,” he said, voice smooth but taut. “Allow me to offer the emperor’s condolences… and my own. Queen Constance was a remarkable woman.”

Ariana inclined her head, her gaze cool. “She was.” A faint “mmm” slipped out — not grief this time, but the old instinctive warning she’d always felt around him. “We thank you for your words.”

Narrem straightened. His eyes met hers for a fraction too long — not defiant, but assessing. Respectful, yes… yet wary. He knew what she could do now.

And Ariana saw it. She always had. “You have travelled far,” Eldon said, stepping forward with polite firmness. “We will see you settled.”

Narrem nodded. “Your hospitality is appreciated, Lord Eldon.” But his attention returned to Ariana. “If there is anything you require of me, Your Majesty,” he said, “you need only ask. I serve at your pleasure while I am here.”

Ariana’s eyes narrowed just slightly — a movement so small only Eldon would notice.

“Mmm… I am sure you do,” she said softly. “And I trust your stay will be… uneventful

Narrem’s lips twitched — not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. “I will endeavour to ensure it is so.”

Ariana turned, her dark mourning gown sweeping behind her as she walked back toward the palace. Eldon followed, but not before giving Narrem a look that carried a silent warning. Narrem watched them go, expression unreadable. But beneath it all, a flicker of something else. He had come to Mendona with orders. And Ariana — queen, mother, force of nature — was no longer the girl he once dismissed. This time, he would tread carefully.