Long Live the Queen

    Caelyn thought that she was going to burst from the weight of it all. The feeling of a thousand eyes on her, the rapid thumping of her heart in her too-small chest, the pressure of the heavy crown resting above her brow. Her vision seemed to be outlined by a steady layer of pulsing red. A faint stinging sensation on her palm made its way to the forefront of her brain. Her fingernails digging into her hand? Most likely.
    Her lungs were rapidly tightening. When had it become hard to breathe?
    Still, when she stood, her legs were steady and her voice was calm. “Excuse me,” she said. A few of her closest allies and advisors turned to face her, but the majority of the room continued their side conversations. The chatter of the people who utterly ignored her sent a fresh wave of rage and frustration coursing through her body. Her teeth grit. “Excuse me!” She didn’t uell, surprisingly, but her voice was forceful and left no room for disagreement. The other voices in the room slowly died down, each member turning to look at her in confusion.
    “This is a council meeting. A royal council meeting,” she said. “We are now starting ten minutes late because of all of your disrespect.”
    A few of the people shifted uncomfortably. A masculine figure in the back of the room snorted. “Sorry princess.” Caelyn found the source of the voice. Lord Harshaw, a ruddy-haired, stout member of House Fillamont. He’d been particularly…displeased with her as a girl. She remembered being told off by him on a number of occasions for chasing her male cousins around, being told that her behavior wasn’t “appropriate.” It was funny how they never received the same complaints. 
    She held back a string of frustrations. “I am your queen, Lord Harshaw,” she said. “Not your princess. You will address me as such. Do I make myself clear?”
    Lord Harshaw frowned, his jaw bouncing as it was clenched. “Yes, Your Hi—Majesty.”
    Caelyn didn’t know whether the slip-up was intentional or not, but it wasn’t exactly like she could call him out for it. She took a breath, trying to call her father’s words back to her. “Never let them see that they get to you. If they see that they can exploit your weaknesses, they’ll never stop.”
    So, instead of lunging across the table and snapping Lord Harshaw’s neck as she so wished to, she pulled a tight smile onto her lips and said, “Splendid.”
    She turned to face the room. “I know that a lot of you have your concerns about my leadership,” she said. It was putting the blatant insults and threats that had graced her waking hours since her father’s death lightly, but, well, politics. “But, for better or worse, I am now the ruler of this kingdom. I expect to be treated as such. I will listen to your advice and wishes, but I will not bow to them.”
    “No offense, your majesty, but the kingdom has never been ruled by a woman on her own,” said a young lord from the back of the room.
    Caelyn had to hold back a bite. Why was it that when a man was forceful in the face of insults he was called assertive, while when a woman did the same she was called a bitch? She sighed. “And how will you ever know what I am capable of if you do not give me a chance to show you? I was named—”
    “But how can—”
    “—my father’s heir—”
    “We know, but—”
    “And how will you ever know what I am capable of if you do not give me a chance to speak?” she roared. It wasn’t like the big cats that the trainers had brought to the palace in her youth, but rather like a kitchen fire that had had salt thrown upon its flames. The lord who had been speaking to her jumped back, as if the flickering fire of her words could burn his skin. “The gods have deemed me fit to rule, else they’d have struck me down at my coronation. Whether you like it or not, I am your queen. If I am interrupted again, I will not hesitate to have my guards not only throw you out of the meeting, but out of this castle. Am I understood?”
    The table around her hesitated, seemingly unsure of how to respond. Finally, a chorus of, “Yes, Your Majesty,” echoed around the room.
    Caelyn sighed, tucking a strand of loose hair back behind her ear. “Now,” she said, waiting a second for the voices to die down. “Does anyone else have something that’s so important that it cannot wait until the open call for discussion?” A moment. Two. No one spoke up, either having no need to or too intimidated to. A small smile graced her lips. “Excellent. Then let us begin.”