Shadow
Chapter 10
Split of the Crown (1)
Voices of the Court
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A whole week passed. The queen waited in her chamber with equal parts patience and anger, alone. No one reached out to her except Lady Litchie, who only came to serve and bring her food. Even Ivanka stood watch outside the queen’s room, obeying the king’s orders until his return.
On Saturday evening of the following week, Asma stood waiting at her window. At last, the royal carriages arrived — the king’s carriage at the head, followed by Prince Evan’s.
When Evan finally appeared, Asma cried out, “Evaaaan!” She gasped; tears rolled down her face, then she wiped them away with the back of her hand as if surprised to be crying. Then she shouted in fury: “How dare he leave me like this… that filthy scoundrel! Doesn’t he know his foolish king lost his mind and locked me up here?!”
After a while the noise outside died down. The royal chamber was heavy with silence and darkened shadows. Only a few small orange lamps cast a warm glow over the gilded, finely carved ceiling and the towering paintings draped by heavy purple curtains. All of it only deepened Asma’s loneliness and fear — but she decided to ignore it.
A light knock came at the door — a familiar tap that made Asma smile as if deliverance had finally arrived. “Ivanka? Come in!” she called childishly, her voice bright.
The door opened and
Ivanka stood politely aside, then bowed to Prince Evan as he entered wearing
his stately military uniform — handsome and elegant.
“Her Majesty the Queen is ready to see me, it seems. She even put on her
headscarf!” he said lightly.
“Evan! You scoundrel! Why didn’t you warn me? Last time the king trapped me here! What a vile man!” Asma snapped.
Evan laughed, unable
to contain it at her open insult of the king. Ivanka tilted her head, eyes
serious; Evan realized his behavior was inappropriate.
“Heh… I’m sorry! She called him vile… haha… oh my! I can’t help myself!”
he chortled.
“Prince!” Ivanka scolded.
“Leave him, Ivanka. Don’t be overly polite to men like Shadow,” Asma said. Ivanka looked down in shame as if guilty.
Evan looked at
Ivanka, his eyes misting from laughter, then turned to Asma.
“Your Highness! You misunderstood — I came after receiving the king’s
permission…”
“What? He couldn’t even be bothered to come greet me?!” Asma snapped.
“Excuse me?”
“What a scoundrel!”
Evan paused, then
exploded in laughter.
“Hehehe… Your Majesty, stop! I’ll die next time… hahahaha.”
In truth no one else laughed in the room — but he was delighted that, after more than a thousand years, someone finally dared to insult the king openly in front of the court with such brazenness.
“My queen, you
have a brilliant future, you know?” he said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your audacity, my lady!” Asma fell silent, eyes wide. Evan continued, “Do
you know why the king locked you here while he was away from Nixara?”
“Because he wanted to keep me under his watch!” she guessed.
“Exactly. You entered the forbidden Aletheia zone — in other words, a place
forbidden to all Norton’s people… except one person: you, Your Majesty!”
“I think I
understood since the last time I visited the tower — specifically when I found
it hidden in the wardrobe of my real-world room,” she said. Evan nodded,
smiling.
“Glad the truth is revealing itself so quickly. Much more will be uncovered.
But you’ll need a quick plan, Your Highness, if you want to enter the tower
again; the king absolutely forbids it.”
A thick silence fell. Asma looked at him with hollow eyes and asked, “Evan! Why did you and Ivanka help me reach that tower, even though Shadow is strongly opposed?”
“It’s your legacy, Asma. You discovered that yourself,” Evan replied, warmth and satisfaction in his gaze; Ivanka smiled, too. “Let me explain the plan that will help you enter the tower again — and secure your permanent rights to enter there. Are you ready?!” Evan cried.
“Yes!” she answered.
“May we go mad with joy!” he whooped.
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The next evening, Shadow entered the Great Council Hall where the kingdom’s most crucial political, economic, and military decisions were made. He sat on his throne at the back of the vast chamber facing the main doors. To his right sat the conservative faction; to his left, the opposition. Nobles and aristocrats formed the neutral heart.
As arguments grew complex, Shadow rested one foot over the other, propping his head on his hand and listening with that accurate scrutiny of his. He analyzed the dull speeches and political squabbles with a mysterious calm.
The hush of the meeting was broken by the opening of the hall doors, revealing a remarkable figure — the most important woman in Norton at that moment.
Queen Asma stood in the doorway, her eyes full of resolve. In that instant she thought to herself: in my world I was a child whose opinion meant nothing. Managers take power and use it; the younger generations live under orders. But recently I learned one thing: whether you’re manager or subordinate, if you want to survive you must be brazen — brazen in your own way. And now I’m not an ordinary official; I am the queen… the brazen queen!
She entered without
the king’s permission and introduced herself loudly and clearly among the
nobles in the council hall.
“I am Asma! Your Queen… Asma!” she proclaimed.
Shadow’s eyelid twitched; he rose stiffly, furious and astonished at the spectacle unfolding before him. What are you doing?! he thought.
“You’re gathered here to discuss important matters, to seek justice, right?” Asma’s voice rang out. A murmur ran through the nobles — whispers, half-words, the stirrings of debate. She smiled and continued her theatrical speech, “Justice! Hahaha! What justice is this?”
The murmurs swelled. Shadow rapped his gavel on the arm of his throne with a single command: “Silence!”
Asma spread her arms to lend a rhetorical flourish to her impertinent speech. “If the king is just, why does he forbid me from entering Aletheia, which I inherited from my grandfather?”
The hall choked on the nobles’ gasps. Shadow calmed but his eyes burned with anger.
Suddenly the council split into two sides — supporters and opponents. Voices rose.
The left opposition leader shouted: “We support the queen’s right! Everyone knows Aletheia belongs to the queen! The king has no right to interfere!”
The conservative leader shot back: “The queen is overstepping. I question her legitimacy. The matter rests with the king; he is the rightful landholder and protector!”
Prince Evan interjected: “Listen, everyone — why not vote?”
Shouts rippled through the hall: “Fine,” “Yes,” “We’ll show you your proper place!” “Shut up, you fool!” and insults spread among the members. Shadow struck the gavel: “Silence!”
After the vote, the numbers were exactly tied between supporters and opponents. The deciding vote favored Queen Asma — and the swing vote came from Prince Evan.
Evan winked at Asma; she nodded back and fixed Shadow with a daring look.
Shadow announced, voice full of displeasure yet still commanding, “Following the vote, the queen legally has the right to appeal her case in this chamber from now on.”
“So that means I may attend meetings?” Asma asked.
Shadow remained silent and ended the council immediately, then left, ignoring her. Asma glared up and down at him and muttered, “You son of a bitch!”
Evan burst into laughter among the remaining nobles; he was the only one who heard her. The conservative leader muttered, “What’s with Prince Evan?” His wife, the baroness, replied, “I don’t know, but I am sure this girl is the one who’s driven him mad. She barged into the Great Council without decorum — there’s something dangerously off about her.”
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Shadow’s chamber door flew open in anger. He strode to his desk, placed a stack of urgent papers down, then left the desk and headed down the corridor toward his bedchamber to bathe and clear his mind of the storm that had just erupted. Her entering the hall was a grave mistake, Evan. Why won’t you understand? I respect your opposition, but this time… this is dangerous!
The corridor door opened and Asma stood before him. Shadow looked at her coldly. “How did you come in? How did the guards allow you?” he demanded.
“I am the queen, after all!” she shot back.
“A queen?” He looked her up and down and then away. She smiled defiantly. “What? Do I not seem a refined, noble queen? Then perhaps you are the scoundrel!”
Shadow’s eyes widened at her unprecedented insolence. “What did you say?” he moved closer, towering over her with his broad shoulders, seeming as if he could erase her from the face of the earth.
Asma stepped back, trying not to meet his eyes. She tried to distract the tense moment — but, the one who really distracted… was herself. Her gaze fell to the left where a portrait of a stunning woman with long black hair hung — noble, feminine, exquisite.
“Repeal what you said! How dare you address me like that? Do you even know your place? You are nothing!” Shadow roared.
“Who is that woman? She looks a lot like you — only more beautiful!” Asma interrupted his roaring in wondering.
Shadow was surprised she hadn’t absorbed his torrent of insults. He followed her gaze and recognized what she saw. His eyes froze, his throat went dry, and sweat broke across his brow. He looked at her with contempt and spat, “Leave — now! Or I will kill you!” Then he turned on his heel and strode to his bedchamber without looking back.
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