105

105
Chapter 105

The piercing cry of the former king’s manservant shattered the quiet of the early morning. His wailing echoed through the palace halls, pulling servants, guards, and royals from their chambers.

“The…the former King—” the man stammered, collapsing to his knees. “He’s gone! His Majesty passed away in his sleep!”

Federico, still in his nightclothes, rushed from his chamber with Azalea right behind him. His face was pale, as though part of him had expected this moment but not so soon.

The corridors quickly filled with movement, guards running to confirm, maids whispering and weeping softly. Word spread like wildfire, and within minutes the palace was plunged into mourning.

Azalea’s heart ached as she held Federico’s hand, feeling his silent grief radiating through his tightened grip. She had never been particularly close to the former king, but she knew how much Federico loved and respected his father despite their occasional disagreements.

“Should I call the doctor?” she asked quietly.

Federico shook his head. “There’s no need. He went peacefully… at least, that’s what I pray.”

By midday, preparations for the burial were underway — swift, as was tradition. The palace courtyard transformed into a sea of black garments and solemn faces. Bells tolled mournfully through the kingdom, signaling to the people that their former ruler had taken his final rest.

Azalea dressed simply, her long black gown flowing like a shadow behind her as she followed Federico to the courtyard. The sight before them made her throat tighten — the former king’s body lay in a carved wooden casket draped with the royal crest, surrounded by candles and white lilies.

The queens were inconsolable. The first queen, Leandro's mother, knelt by the casket, clutching one of her husband’s signet rings in her trembling hand. The second queen sobbed quietly beside her, face hidden behind a black veil.

Azalea moved forward, kneeling beside the first queen. “My queen,” she said softly, using the word deliberately, “please take heart. The King would want you strong for Federico.”

The queen looked up at her, eyes red but grateful. “You are right, but how does one stop a heart from breaking?”

Azalea didn’t answer; she simply reached for the queen’s hands and squeezed gently, offering silent strength.

Ophelia and Maya arrived soon after, also dressed in mourning. For once, Ophelia’s sharp tongue was still. She went to the second queen and embraced her. “You are not alone,” she whispered, surprising even herself.

The burial took place just before sunset. The body was carried to the royal tombs behind the palace, accompanied by soft chanting from the priests. Federico walked at the front, shoulders squared, every step deliberate, while his brothers flanked his sides. Azalea stayed close, her presence a silent anchor.

When the coffin was finally lowered into the tomb, the air seemed to grow heavy. The first handful of soil was thrown in by Federico himself. His face remained unreadable, but his fingers dug into the hilt of the ceremonial shovel as if it were his sword.

Azalea felt a pang of worry — not just for his grief, but for what this death might mean for their already tense political situation. A new king meant a shift in power, and she could almost feel the eyes of Leandro, Thomas, and even Mack watching closely, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike.

When the ceremony ended, everyone returned to the palace in silence. The queens were escorted to their chambers, where Azalea and Ophelia stayed behind to comfort them.

“We will keep you company tonight,” Azalea said softly. “No queen should mourn alone.”

Maya stood by the door, nodding her agreement. For once, there was no hostility in the room — only shared grief.

Hours later, when Azalea finally returned to her chamber, she found Federico standing by the window, staring into the dark gardens below.

“Everything feels different now,” he said quietly when she approached. “Like I’m standing at the edge of something much bigger than me.”

Azalea wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek against his back. “Then we face it together,” she whispered. “You are king now, and you have me by your side.”

Federico turned to face her, eyes dark but steady. “And I intend to make sure nothing takes you from me.”

Azalea nodded silently. She knew this was just the beginning of another storm, but tonight, they would mourn together.

___

Azalea sat at the head of the long wooden table, her posture regal yet approachable. Around her, the women of the community, farmers, traders, and household heads—listened intently as she spoke.

“We will begin the next round of farmland allocations next month,” Azalea explained, her tone calm but firm. “This time, we will prioritize widows, single mothers, and families who lost most of their crops during the last storm. No one should go hungry while we have fertile land that can be shared.”

There were murmurs of agreement from several women. Others nodded, relieved at her fairness. Azalea felt a small surge of pride. Slowly but surely, she was beginning to win their trust.

Just as she moved to the next topic, the heavy doors creaked open. Leandro’s mother swept into the hall, dressed in dark green silk and gold jewelry that announced her presence before her words did. The murmurs in the room died instantly.

“Your Majesty,” the woman said, bowing with exaggerated grace before straightening. “I hear talk of land allocations and thought I should be here. After all, we have always handled such matters through the council of elders, not… impromptu gatherings like this.”

Azalea remained seated, her hands folded on the table. Her face betrayed no irritation, though her spine stiffened slightly.

“With respect,” Azalea replied evenly, “I am not holding an impromptu gathering. This is an official meeting with the women of the community — those directly responsible for tilling the lands and feeding the people. Their voices matter, and it is my duty as queen to hear them.”

Leandro’s mother’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Tradition exists for a reason, my queen. If you change too much, too quickly, you risk unrest.”

Azalea rose from her chair, her presence commanding. “I respect tradition,” she said, meeting the older woman’s gaze steadily, “but I will not allow it to be used as an excuse to keep food and resources from those who need them most. This is my reign, and this is how I will govern. My decision stands.”

A silence followed her words, sharp and heavy, before Leandro’s mother inclined her head slightly. “As you wish, Your Majesty,” she said, though the faint displeasure in her tone did not go unnoticed. She turned and left the room as quickly as she had come.

At the table, Vicky covered a smile behind her hand, her eyes sparkling with quiet approval. Maya, on the other hand, scoffed under her breath and shook her head slightly, though she said nothing.

Azalea resumed her seat, her voice calm but resolute. “Now,” she said to the gathered women, “let us continue. The future of our fields depends on what we decide today.”

And just like that, the meeting pressed on, the queen’s authority undeniably clear.