Free Web NovelChapter 45: Episode 45: Spare her Life...
"How dare you!" she bellows under her breath, holding her stinging cheek in absolute shock.
Her hand covers the bright red mark blooming on her pale skin. Her eyes are wide. She stares at Tyara as if the Queen just grew a second head. She has never been struck in her entire life. She was raised on soft pillows. Physical pain is a completely foreign concept to her.
Tyara looks down at her. The dirt is slowly staining Sienna’s expensive silk skirts. It is a very pathetic sight.
Tyara rolls her eyes coldly. She crosses her arms over her own dark robe. She does not feel an ounce of pity. Pity is useless.
Which proves that Tyara could be a Queen if she wanted to.
"You struck me," Sienna gasps. Her voice trembles. "My father will hear of this."
"Your father is sitting in his estate by the lake," Tyara interrupts flatly. "He is not here. Even if he were here, he would not be able to save you from your own stupidity."
Sienna lowers her hand. Her cheek is already swelling. The pampered noble attempts to scramble backwards in the dirt. She looks at her personal guards. She expects them to draw their swords. She expects them to defend her honor.
Her guards do not move. They are incredibly still. They stare straight ahead. They know exactly who holds the real power in this courtyard. Defending a spoiled brat is not worth losing their heads.
"Listen to me very carefully," Tyara states calmly. She does not raise her voice. She simply projects authority. "You have operated under a massive delusion for your entire existence. You genuinely believed people bowed to you because you were inherently valuable."
"I..." Sienna opens her mouth to argue. No sound comes out.
"They did not," Tyara breaks down the harsh reality step by step. "You got away with your terrible behaviour for a very long time. You insulted my people. You hoarded resources. You acted like a feral child. You did all of this because of one single reason. Your father was the closest advisor to my father. He was the regent. He was an incredibly useful man who kept this kingdom from falling apart during its change"
Tyara takes a slow step forward. The gravel crunches under her boots. freewebnovel.cσ๓
"I respected your father," Tyara explains clinically. "He earned his place. So I tolerated you. I looked the other way when you threw tantrums. I allowed you to roam the palace halls like an expensive, annoying pet. You were a nuisance. You were a harmless nuisance. Putting up with your whining kept your father focused on his work. It was a simple trade."
Apart from being stressed about the males, Sienna had messed up; she chose to project her other crimes.
Sienna stares up at the Matriarch. The coldness in Tyara’s pale eyes finally starts to penetrate her arrogant shell. The color drains completely from Sienna’s face.
"But that era is over," Tyara says bluntly. "My father is no longer here. Your father retired. He no longer holds that position. He has no power in my court. His invisible shield expired the moment he handed back his seal. You are standing in the middle of my courtyard, ruining the solstice tribute. You have absolutely no protection left."
The silence in the courtyard is deafening. The merchants watch with wide eyes.
"You are nothing," Tyara concludes. "You are just a thief in expensive clothes."
Sienna’s bottom lip quivers. The reality of the situation crashes down on her. She is no longer untouchable, and that one realisation forces tears to gather at the corner of her eyes.
Tyara turns her head slightly to look at the royal guards stationed by the archway.
"Strip her," Tyara orders without blinking.
The royal guards step forward immediately.
Sienna shrieks. The sound is high and sharp. "Do not touch me! I am a noble!"
The guards ignore her screaming. They reach down with rough, calloused hands. They grab the heavy gold necklace from her throat and snap the clasp. They pull the jeweled pins from her perfectly styled hair. They unbuckle her thick, luxurious fur cloak and toss it into the dirt. They unlace her velvet sash.
They take everything that denotes her luxury status. They leave her sitting in the gravel wearing only a plain, wrinkled under-tunic. She looks exactly like a common thief.
Sienna cries loudly. She thrashes her arms. She tries to hit the guards. It is completely useless.
"Take her to the prison," Tyara commands flatly. "Drag her directly to the lower dungeons. She will sit in a cell and pay for her crimes just like any other criminal."
Two large guards grab Sienna by the arms. They haul her up from the dirt. She kicks her feet wildly. She screams curses at Tyara. The noise is incredibly grating.
Tyara simply watches them drag the noble away. Sienna’s shrieks echo off the stone walls as they disappear down the long, dark corridor leading to the holding cells. The screaming eventually fades into absolute silence.
Tyara turns her attention to the terrified merchants. They are standing near the ruined lavender silk. They look afraid to even breathe. The smell of scorched wood hangs heavy in the air.
"Clean up this mess," Tyara tells them calmly. "Tally the exact cost of the destroyed goods. Hand the numbers to my attendant before the sun sets. The treasury will compensate you fully for your losses."
The merchants drop into deep, frantic bows. They scramble to start picking up the charred wood and the dirty fabric.
Tyara turns her back on the courtyard. She walks away. She passes tall stone pillars and woven tapestries. She ignores a guard whose posture is slightly crooked. Correcting him would waste valuable time.
She feels a profound sense of satisfaction. It is a very dry feeling. It feels exactly like popping a stubborn blister. It is slightly messy but incredibly necessary. She has officially cleansed a rotting infection from her court. The parasite is gone. The palace is clean.
She wanted to puff her chest to her sister, Tanith, and inform her that she could be a Queen too.
She walks through the massive double doors of the throne room pavilion. The room is enormous. It features tall stone pillars supporting a vaulted ceiling. Heavy velvet banners hang quietly in the still air. At the far end of the room sits her massive mahogany desk and the heavy iron throne.
Tyara walks up the steps of the dais. She sits down in her hard wooden chair. She looks at the stacks of parchment waiting for her. She picks up her quill. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
She dips the quill into the black inkwell. She pulls the report on the northern grain yields toward her. She begins to read. The yields are down twelve percent.
She needs to calculate the exact tonnage required to feed the outer territories. The math requires shifting reserves from the eastern silos.
The scratching sound of her quill fills the quiet room. The ink dries on the parchment. The work is peaceful. She prefers it this way.
An hour passes in perfect peace.
Tyara finishes reviewing five different trade ledgers. She signs a decree regarding the border patrols. She sets her quill down and rubs her tired eyes. The silence in the pavilion is excellent.
Then the doors swing open, and Tyara pauses with a sigh.
Tyara does not flinch. She simply rests her hands flat on her desk and looks up. A woman rushes frantically into the throne room.
She is an older noblewoman. She wears a dark, expensive gown. The fabric is severely wrinkled. Her greying hair is falling out of its intricate pins. Her face is bright red and completely soaked with heavy tears. She is hyperventilating loudly.
It is Sienna’s mother.
The royal guards step forward to intercept the intruder. Tyara raises a single hand. The guards stop immediately. Tyara lets the woman run.
The older noblewoman does not wait to be announced. She runs directly down the long carpet spanning the length of the pavilion. She is sobbing uncontrollably. The sound is loud and messy.
She reaches the steps of the dais. She does not stop to bow politely. She completely collapses.
Sienna’s mother throws herself directly at Tyara’s feet. Her hands slap hard against the cold floor. She grabs the hem of Tyara’s dress with trembling fingers. She buries her wet face against Tyara’s boots.
"Please!" the woman wails desperately. The sound echoes endlessly across the massive room. "Please, my Queen! You must have mercy!"
Tyara looks down at the crying woman. She does not pull her dress away. She keeps her face entirely blank. She watches the hysterics with a detached, clinical eye.
"My daughter is a fool," Sienna’s mother cries. Her voice cracks with pure terror. "She is arrogant and stupid. I know she is. But she does not deserve to rot in the dungeons. I am begging you. Spare her life."
