My whole life flashed before my eyes. There she was, a little girl, running around the yard, and she felt good... the sun was warm, the birds were singing... she fell, sparks in her eyes, crying.
The father runs, picks her up, sings a song, and laughs. And they laugh together...
Where is he, Daddy? Why did she only think of him casually all this time, discarding him like something useless? He would never do that, never! And even if he's not a real father, he's better than a real father! Is he alive? What is he doing now? Baking his cakes again?
How lovely it is in the shop – the smell of baked goods and spices… the voices of the workers who brought flour and sugar can be heard from the kitchen. They're laughing…
You don't know how happy you are until you lose that happiness!
Why does she need a throne? Why does she need power? What will power give her? Grief, suffering, the envy and malice of those around her, and not a single soul of her own by her side…
Ned, sweet Ned! How she misses him! How she yearns for him! He embodied freedom, happiness, the joy of life. Now her lot is a dim room, a copper pot, and meager food, which she picks up every last crumb, even though she's not at all hungry. She needs to maintain her strength, otherwise…
What else could there be? How can one escape from here? With a chain on her leg, shackled like a chained dog. A slave. That's what she is. She never understood the fate of slaves before—well, slaves are slaves. The gods punished them. In their next reincarnation, they might become masters. That's how it's supposed to be, that's the order. By whom was it supposed to be? Who established this order?
The door rattled, interrupting Sanda's thoughts, and she retreated to the wall, trying to cover her private parts. No matter how long she'd been naked, no matter how much they'd drilled into her that she was now a lost cause, an animal, with nothing to be ashamed of, like all animals, like slaves—the girl couldn't believe it. Everything had to end well, and nothing else. After all, she didn't deserve any harm! She was innocent of any wrongdoing, to be punished so terribly! Silly girl...
The men who entered, wearing strange, loose robes and holding swords—women or men—looked impassively at the captive and remained silent. Then one of them, in a dark red suit, stepped forward and began chanting something. It sounded like a spell. Sanda's heart fluttered—something was clearly about to change in her destiny! But in what direction?
A few seconds later, the girl felt the chain on her leg become warmer, and a few moments later, she fell onto the cot.
One of the men—you could tell from his voice that it was a man—threw her a long robe and ordered:
– Put the hood on your head and don't lift your head. Follow us, don't look around. Sandals by the trestle bed.
Sanda quickly pulled on her robe, feeling relieved to be shielded from the prying eyes that were searching her from head to toe. She felt around for her wooden sandals with leather laces, quickly fastened the laces around her ankles, and straightened up.
"Follow me!" the man in dark red clothes ordered and pushed open the front door.
An echoing corridor, the echo of footsteps dies away somewhere in the abyss, bridges made of planks tied with ropes - they sway terribly, and the girl convulsively clings to the ropes, afraid to take a step.
The guards silently lift her with iron-like hands and carry her across the chasm. Another tunnel, another, another bridge, and more men's hands.
This went on for about an hour, and Sanda, out of breath and even exhausted from the fast walking—she'd been lying motionless on the couch for days, stressed out. She even staggered as she climbed the brick-lined tunnel.
"Close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you to," the man ordered, "or you'll go blind!"
Sanda obediently closed her eyes as they took her by the arms and led her forward. A hatch or door lid rattled, and… a fresh breeze, filled with the scent of herbs and earth, touched her face. The sun's rays sparkled on her skin, and the girl involuntarily opened her eyes and cried out in pain, bursting into tears.
She blinked and through a veil of tears saw a closed carriage, next to which stood several inconspicuous people.
Sanda was pushed forward, the carriage door opened, and she was lifted and seated inside on the leather seat. Two silent guards sat opposite her, the door slammed, the coachman cracked his whip, and the carriage, rocking like a ship on a wave, moved forward, picking up speed.
Clouds of dust rose from beneath its enormous, steel-shod wheels, rising above the carriage's windows. Then the wheels rumbled along the city's cobblestone streets, and the street outside began to hum with the sounds of human voices, the shouts of the drivers, and the virtuoso curses of the stevedores.
The carriage didn't travel very far. It stopped somewhere for a while—rough voices could be heard—then it moved again and stopped very soon—probably entering a courtyard. The door swung open, the step descended, and Sanda, barely alive with excitement and fatigue, stepped out.
As they walked and rode, the girl tried to find out anything—what awaited her at the end of the journey, where they were going—but the guards remained silent. She despaired and now expected the worst. Perhaps they would sell her into slavery.
Finally the guard on the right said:
- Go to the stairs leading to the house, you will be met there.
Then he turned and silently climbed into the carriage. It moved off and drove out of the courtyard.
Sanda hesitantly walked forward, and as she reached the first step, several women—apparently slaves—rushed out of the house, watched over by a senior servant. Someone grabbed the girl and led her, supporting her under the arms. A few minutes later, she found herself in a large room decorated with frescoes depicting men and women bathing… and not only bathing.
Wiping away her tears, the girl looked with embarrassment at the couples in the frescoes making love in various positions. Then her mind cleared, and Sanda remembered where she'd seen such frescoes! In Heverad's house!
"Where am I?" Sanda asked and received the answer:
"In the house of Mr. Heverad, your husband. Madam, can you get into the bath yourself? Or do you need help?"
"I'll try," Sanda nodded, and when they pulled her robe off, she walked toward a small pool set into the floor with stone steps, from which the scent of bathing incense emanated. She staggered on the steps and almost fell—she would have if not for two dark-skinned girls, covered only by towels wrapped around their waists. They caught Sanda with strong arms and together they stepped into the water, which turned out to be delightfully hot and fragrant.
She barely remembered the next hour. They scrubbed her, washed her, shaved her, massaged her, kneading her stiff muscles, and rubbed her with some kind of potion that made her body burn, as if she'd been standing next to an open flame. Then they washed her again, and finally, they anointed her with incense, delicate and expensive, brought from a distant southern continent.
After all the procedures, she was dressed in exquisite lace lingerie and a scarlet silk dress over it, hugging her slender figure and perfectly complementing her dark hair. One of the women had previously cut her long hair and then curled it, creating a hairstyle worthy of a queen.
Then everyone except the senior servant disappeared from the room on command, and the senior servant asked Sanda to follow her.
Beyond the door was a long corridor, lighted by small windows in the wall on the right. It wasn't a long walk; five minutes later, Sanda stood before a dark, lacquered door twice her height.
The maid coughed discreetly and explained:
"You're expected behind this door, madam. I'm leaving now, but if you need anything, pull the alarm cord, and I'll be right there."
The woman turned and left, leaving Sanda standing in front of the door, hesitating for a long moment to push it open. Her heart pounded like a bird thrashing against the bars of its cage in a desperate attempt to escape.
Gathering all her willpower, Sanda resolutely pushed the door open, and stepping over the threshold, she took a closer look and was dumbfounded...
My first thought was, "He's changed!"
A tall young man stood before Sanda, broad-shouldered and strong, with a stern, slightly arrogant expression. His eyes had changed—as far as the girl remembered—and she did remember!—they had once been blue. Now they were green.
A soft jacket made of discreet green fabric clung to a powerful, well-developed chest, and the man's hand rested habitually on the hilt of his sword—a man prepared for anything, just in case, prepared for battle.
Thick trousers made of the same fabric as the jacket hugged the powerful thighs of long legs that stood firmly on the ground, and it seemed that no force could knock this warrior down.
A split second later, a faint smile appeared on Ned's lips, and his haughty face instantly grew younger, transforming into the familiar, achingly familiar face of the young man with whom she had once linked her life. Once upon a time... when? Years and years ago, millennia lay between the moment when she watched Ned climb the steps of the landing craft, and now. They were different people now—Ned different, and she different...
"Hello, my dear!" Ned stepped forward, and Sanda fell onto his chest, almost unconscious. He picked her up, lifted her into his arms, and carried her to the large leather sofa. He laid her on her back and tucked a velvet pillow with a design of a strange winged beast under her head.
Then he went to the desk, took the jug, and the liquid poured into the crystal mug, smelling sharply of the yangar fruit, the juice from which was so popular in the capital.
Sanda wasn't particularly fond of it—the smell was too strong and the taste too tart—but now she accepted the mug and greedily drank almost to the bottom. All her days of captivity had been spent drinking only stale water.
"How are you without me? How have you been living?" Ned smiled again and sat down next to her, taking her fragile hand in his huge palms, stroking her delicate skin.
"It's bad without you," Sanda said in a strangled voice and began to cry – quietly, soundlessly, as if she was afraid that the sound of her sobs would attract enemies, and then all the horror she had experienced would begin again.
"Don't cry. Everything will be okay," Ned half-closed his eyes encouragingly, and Sanda suddenly believed—it really was, everything would be okay! Ned was here, which meant everything was okay!
"You know, they forced me to marry Heverad," Sanda said unexpectedly to herself, expecting anything – a scream, a curse, a condemning look, the question "How could you?!"
But I only heard something simple:
- I know, darling. I know everything.
And she also heard:
"Are you hungry? There are meat pies, pies, juice, and all sorts of other things. Quite tasty, yes. I had lunch while I was waiting for you; I couldn't resist. Would you like to eat?"
Sanda's stomach rumbled vilely, and she even flinched in surprise, then burst into tears of laughter and tried to stand. Ned extended his hand, helped her up, then hugged her and led her to the table.
Only now did Sanda realize how hungry she was. The girl devoured everything within her reach until Ned stopped her:
"Rest for now. Otherwise your stomach will hurt. Didn't they feed you?" His face grew gloomy, and his eyes seemed to turn into two red embers. Sanda blinked, looking into her husband's eyes again – no, she imagined it. He was simply very angry.
"They fed us... but poorly," she admitted. "They kept us in a dungeon, they wouldn't let us out anywhere. They kept us chained up, like a dog. Are we leaving soon? We're leaving here, right?"
Sanda saw a shadow touch Ned's face, he seemed to fade, become haggard, even hunched over, as if the steel rod on which his powerful body was strung had been removed from him.
"I have a lot to tell you," Ned said slowly, "it's not that simple. Not at all. Anyway, listen..."
Ned spoke slowly, weightily, and his words, like heavy weights, were imprinted on Sanda's brain.
At first she was in despair – how? He's giving me away to Heverad like a thing?! How dare he, the traitor?!
Then despair gave way to sadness and sorrow—she'd waited so long for Ned, believed in him so unconditionally, and this was what she got. Why did she have to pay for all this?
Then Sanda pulled herself together and began to think about the situation logically—she was, after all, quite intelligent, and months spent around people who were alien and hostile had taught her that not everything was so simple and straightforward. The main thing was that she was being given a choice. And that was something.
Ned's story lasted about an hour. He had to include everything he could, everything he needed Queen Zamara, his beloved woman, to know.
When Ned finished, Sanda stared into space, as if she were asleep with her eyes open. Ned didn't bother her, fell silent too, and they sat like that for about ten minutes until she sighed and said:
"It's all clear to me. But tell me anyway – do I have a choice?"
"Everyone has a choice," Ned said grimly, "everyone! A bird has a choice—to care for its young or not. Beasts have a choice—to do what they want, or to hunt together, driving down prey and thus surviving. A soldier has a choice—to flee the battlefield or to die according to his contract."
"So you're hinting to me... no, you're telling me outright that it's my duty to do as you wish and ascend the throne while remaining Heverad's wife? And you'll be off into the unknown, with no way to know whether you'll return or not?"
"We are free in our decisions, if we forget that our fate is determined by the gods. I didn't choose my fate, although at one point it seemed that way—I am the master of my own destiny. And you didn't choose either. Sometimes you have to do the right thing, even if everything inside you protests, everything screams: I don't want to! I won't!"
"What if I do give up—the throne, Heverad, all my problems—and just leave with you?" Sanda said bitterly, biting her lip.
"I understand," Ned nodded sadly. "But… you won't do that, I know it. You will do it the way it should be, the right way. I will return. I always return, you know. In a year or sooner. Or later. I will return and take you. Heverad will not lay a finger on you! He fears and respects me. He needs power, although he needs you too. But power is more important."
"Aren't you afraid that during this time I might fall in love with Heverad? That I might forget you? That I'll eventually decide that this man, the king, is quite good, deserves to be my husband. And when you come, I'll tell you: forgive me, Ned, I love someone else. You've been sailing too long, sailor..."
"What will be, will be," Ned's expression darkened. "If love was so fragile that it vanished as soon as I was out of sight, then it never really existed. And so be it. It's your choice. You have it. And I won't take it away. You're free to wait for me or forget."
"You've changed," Sanda said sadly, looking into the eyes of her beloved, "you would have died once, but you wouldn't give me to anyone in the world."
"We all change. And you've changed too. You've become even more beautiful, more feminine, and... smarter. Tomorrow morning is the coronation," Ned said suddenly, changing the subject, "in front of a crowd, in the square by the town hall. Tomorrow you will become queen."
"Tomorrow already?" Sanda was stunned. Her high forehead furrowed, her eyelids drooped, as if she were listening to the sensations within her. After sitting like that for a few seconds, Sanda opened her eyes wide and said decisively:
"Then we have the rest of the day and the whole night! And I want to spend them with you. You mentioned that a married queen will have to confirm her marriage, not be a virgin? Well, that's what we'll fix today."
"We'll fix that," Ned smiled slightly. "I was going to suggest it, but you figured it out yourself. And this is our wedding dinner. Would you like some wine?"
"No. I want to feel you, to remember every second we'll be together. And wine dulls the sensations. I won't drink it."
- It'll hurt! You're a virgin again...
"So be it! I'll remember this pain, I'll remember every moment with you. And then... come what may. I'll wait for you, no matter what. Come back, even if you're crippled, even if you're sick, whatever—just come back. And... come to me!"
Sanda stood up and pulled her dress up. Writhing like a snake, she slipped out of the scarlet skin, then threw off her lace lingerie, leaving her naked as the moment she was born. And now she felt no shame—who should she be ashamed of? Certainly not Ned, who had seen her in every way and stroked, fingered, and caressed every corner of her body.
Sanda stepped forward and hugged Ned, pressing herself tightly into his chest, as if she wanted to grow attached to him forever...
* * *
She screamed in sharp pain, but only pressed herself closer to her beloved man, clasping him with her arms and legs, like a forest monkey clasps its mother, support and protection in this cruel world.
They loved, rested, ate, drank, talked, remembered, loved again, slept a little, just a little, and again, again they loved each other, as if for the last time, as if a man who has passed through the desert falls to the clear water of an icy spring...
Dawn found them hot, sweaty, and breathing heavily.
Sanda's head rested on Ned's shoulder, and she hugged her beloved and fell asleep, her hot breath tickling his skin. Ned couldn't sleep. He went over and over in his mind everything that had been done, everything that lay ahead, and asked himself again and again: is there really no other way out? And he answered: yes, there is a way out. But this is the right one.
"Why are you torturing yourself? You did the right thing, I'm proud of you. You acted like a man—you made the right decision. So what's this all about?"
– Is it right? I feel like I've betrayed my love...
"Fool! This isn't betrayal! Betrayal is something else entirely, and you know it. Your possessive side is acting up—how could I leave my wife for another man?! What if she lets him in? What if he climbs into her bed?! And she'll moan just as much, clutch the sheets in her fists, and shudder with sweet convulsions, just like she's doing now! Right? Right?"
- Well, so what! So what? She's MY wife! And no one dares lay a finger on her! I love her!
"If you love her, trust her! Do you believe her? Trust her! If you don't, that's a different matter. That means she's rotten. We'll find someone better!"
– I don't want anything better. I want her. With or without rot – I only want her!
"You've been single for a long time, so you thought she was the best in the world. But otherwise, she's just a girl. Yeah, long legs, firm breasts, a pretty face, a butt everyone envies—so what? Are there no others like her? Believe me, there are. And lots of them. Ready to give you whatever you want. Oh well, don't worry. I think she'll wait for you. By the way, it's really funny—you took her virginity twice! And also—I have a feeling she'll get pregnant after last night. Didn't you think about that possibility? She told you the anti-conception spell wasn't working anymore!"
"I told her not to get carried away, I wanted to stop, but she squeezed herself into me, and I couldn't tear myself away. She says, 'Let the child be yours. If anything happens...'"
"See how smart she is? So thoughtful. And you'll know that something will truly remain after you. No, smart girl. I hope she doesn't turn tail and run off to Heverad."
- Hope…
"Mr. Black! It's time!" the servant's voice was respectful and stern. "A bath is prepared for you, please come in!"
"Yes, I'm coming!" Ned shouted, instantly waking up from his half-sleep.
Sanda also woke up, opened her eyes, stretched like a cat, and, kissing Ned on the lips, quietly asked:
- What, that's it?
"Everything, my dear... everything ends someday," Ned smiled sadly, carefully crawled out from under Sanda's leg, which was thrown over him, and stood up, doing warm-up movements.
Sanda watched him, resting her head on the palm of her hand, leaning on her elbow, then quietly said:
"You're covered in scars. It's hard to see, but when your skin turned red, they showed up. You're so beautiful, so powerful, so desirable... come to me! Hurry, or I'll pounce on you!"
"We have to go," Ned tried to protest, but Sanda, with a demonic laugh, jumped off the bed and leaped onto him, wrapping her thighs around his waist and grabbing the tangled hair at the back of his head with both hands. Looking him in the eyes, she declared:
"The last time. The very last time. What if, while you're traveling there, something happens to me... You'll regret it later!"
"That's not fair!" Ned muttered, his voice suddenly hoarse, walking over to the bed and throwing himself at Sanda, who groaned under his weight.
Then they washed, had their hair styled by the maids, ate breakfast, and when a servant came to take them to the fireside, both were ready—Sanda in a white gown of the incredibly expensive fabric only royalty were allowed to wear, while Ned was dressed as usual—a jacket, tight trousers, and soft ankle boots. He, of course, wouldn't be standing in full view of the entire city, waiting for a crown to be placed on his head. He always preferred comfort to beauty.
Everyone was gathered in the hall - only the Great Atrok and her minions were absent.
The general wore a snow-white uniform, his chest adorned with military and civil decorations—Ned was amazed at how many there were. They covered the uniform from top to bottom, and the sergeant thought with a chuckle that the decorations could serve as a kind of armor—they couldn't be cut even with a sword.
Heverad saw where Ned was looking and spread his hands:
- It's supposed to be! What can you do? It's funny to me!
"Greetings, my dear," Heverad's voice was even and benevolent, and his gaze stopped on the lips of his "wife," swollen from kisses.
The general sighed involuntarily and darkened—if only he had been in Ned's place that night! But what could he do? They had discussed everything that was happening beforehand, and the general had resigned himself, promising himself that he would find a mistress like Sanda.
Alas, with age comes money, fame, power... but youth, youth goes. And there comes a time when, falling into bed with yet another beauty, you involuntarily wonder: why does she love me? Is it for my bulging purse of gold? Is it for the ring with the stone I gave her last week? And it becomes sad – a man like Ned doesn't need to buy himself love. She grovels at his feet, begging: take me, take me! And the young man steps over her...
Never mind, he'll remember someday when he becomes like Heverad – rich, famous and… not young.
The general sighed again, calmed down a little and offered his hand to his wife:
"Come sit next to me, my dear. Let everyone see how much we love each other!" Heverad's voice was kind and sincere, but Sanda detected a distinct note of irony in it. Heverad understood this and winked slightly.
"Everything's fine. Don't worry. Consider us simply partners in a trade deal. Everything I say in public, everything I do, is for the crowd. The question, admittedly a bit belated, is: can we demonstrate to the priests that you've become a true wife in the fullest sense of the word?"
"We can," Sanda blushed, "everything is fine."
"It's good when everything's fine," the general sighed sadly. "Then let's go to the town square. They're waiting for us there; people have been crowding around since the morning. They've been promised a cash giveaway and a grand feast. It's nothing but waste!" Heverad sighed, offering his hand to his "wife" and heading for the exit.
Fanfares, wind, sun! Flags flap in the wind like coachmen's whips, people scream, reaching for the open carriage in which the future queen rides. A large bowl of silver coins sits next to the girl; every now and then, Sanda scoops up a handful and tosses it into the crowd. A brawl immediately erupts, people crushing, trying to collect the rolled-away coins, fighting, blood flowing. Guards shout, pushing the combatants apart with the butts of their spears.
Sanda winces, and Heverad pats her hand reassuringly:
"It's okay, it's okay—that's how it's supposed to be! At every coronation, at least a hundred people die in the crush and fights. It's like a sacrifice to the gods."
"But this is... disgusting!" Sanda tries to resist, but her husband only shakes his head reproachfully, and she relents, trying to scoop up more and throw it in more often – so there won't be such a crush.
"Generous! May your hand never be empty!" the red-faced, sweaty, excited townspeople shout, stretching their hands out toward the cart with fingers spread wide in a plea: "Give! Give! Give!"
"Wise! Victorious! Magnanimous!" The hands stretch out, stretch out—greedy, grasping, they seem enormous, like those of giants, long as snakes, and are about to grab the future queen by the throat in a single impulse: "Give! Give! Give!"
Sanda choked, clutching her throat, and Heverad looked at her with concern:
- What, what's wrong with you?
Then he looked back at the crowd, frowned and whispered:
"Be patient. Everything ends someday. And this will end. These are your people—look at them, remember that. They only want one thing: to be given a lot, for free. But that's normal. We're all like that. They're just not afraid to show themselves as they are, while we're trying to maintain decorum. But at heart, we're the same greedy creatures, just ones who've snatched more than everyone else. Throw them a little more money, and don't forget: if you've got a lot, give a little to your subordinates. And then they'll love you and turn a blind eye to your idiocy, not noticing the obvious..."
Sanda looked closely at her husband and saw that he was sincere. And now Heverad revealed himself to her in a different light: he was a true ruler—intelligent, moderately cynical, moderately generous. This is how a true king should be. But she… she was an outsider at this celebration of life.
The girl sighed and began frantically throwing handfuls and handfuls of shiny metal into the crowd, until the space beside the cart became an ant-swarming field. People crawled on their knees, stuffing the coins they found into their cheeks, fishing them out of dust, puddles, and horse shit.
The ceremony itself was quick: the priests first led the future queen to the Temple of the Creator, where she had to undergo another humiliating inspection to ensure she was truly her husband's wife. This was necessary for Heverad, otherwise the marriage could be declared invalid.
The priestess of Selera, drying her hands with a snow-white towel, thought she could swear that Heverad's wife had only lost her virginity that night. However, the priestess wisely kept her thoughts to herself, not revealing them to anyone. She merely told the assembled priests: "This woman is her husband's wife!"—and the coronation proceeded smoothly.
The contender for the crown was led onto a special platform that had been knocked together overnight and covered with precious carpets. Then the priest of the Creator sternly asked the future queen three times: "Do you deny the dark side?!"
Of course she denied it.
Then the question was asked three times: "Do you love the gods and our Creator?!"
Well, of course, she loves, she simply adores and so on.
And then came the most pressing question, which seemed completely idiotic to Sanda: "Will you take care of Zamara?!"
"No," I wanted to sneer at her, "I won't, I'll just lie around, eat and drink, turning into a barrel of lard!"
But of course, she didn't say that... and she mounted a huge gilded shield prepared for the occasion, symbolizing that Sanda was now the shield of the state. They handed her a stick, presumably for beating enemies and cockroaches with it—a symbol of the queen's terror of enemies.
The shield was raised aloft on the shoulders of half a dozen mighty guardsmen in gilded armor - just like the shield on which Heverad stood, holding the queen's hand.
The crown, which had been placed on Sanda's head before, was barely holding on, and the girl was afraid that there would be an embarrassment - what if this awkward thing jumped down the steps of the platform straight into the crowd?
"This is going to be a fight for the crown!" she thought and smiled at her thoughts.
The crowd took it in its own way, and a joyful roar came from all sides:
– Hail! Joy! Queen of Joy!
Sanda waved her baton at the crowd, causing the roar to intensify and even riots to break out in places – people were climbing over each other to get a better look. It's not every year that a queen is crowned, especially one so young and beautiful. And generous.
"Read!" Heverad whispered, holding Sanda's hand. "Now's the most important thing! Hey, you, give her some pointers!"
"My good subjects!" Sanda began, listening to the clear voice behind her, which prompted her what to say.
The crowd fell silent, and all that could be heard over the square was the whistling of birds chasing the swarms of flies feasting on the trampled horse and donkey dung, and somewhere in the distance, soldiers calling to each other on the city wall. But this did not in any way detract from the solemnity of the moment, and the people waited with bated breath to hear what the new queen would say!
– I am addressing you, my loyal subjects, in this difficult, challenging hour for Zamara!
The crowd began to make noise, sighed as one organism, and then fell silent again.
"The king's palace is occupied by an insolent bandit calling himself Zhordar, and we cannot enter it now as befits a queen and king! This Zhordar, a brigand, a scoundrel, a molester of children, and a corpse-eater..."
"They've gone too far," muttered Heverad.
"...An emissary of darkness and a demon in human form has captured the esteemed nobleman Hyrsos of Amun and is holding him captive, allegedly acting in his name! Our unfortunate relative is suffering in the clutches of this scoundrel and, according to available information, has already lost his human form, becoming a repository for the demon that is draining his soul!"
The crowd roared, children cried in fear, and their mothers gasped, clutching their precious offspring to themselves.
Heverad grunted and, without unclenching his teeth, said into space:
"They're so full of it! Were they high on Mazis or something when they wrote this? Only when I'm drunk can I blurt something like that out, and even then... I'll think about it."
"I promise you, my loyal subjects, that I will do everything to free the unfortunate Girsos of Amun, or at least his soul!"
"That's the right thing to do," Heverad commented. "What the hell do we need his body for? Release his soul, and let it fly off to feed on demonic filth!"
Sanda almost snorted and looked reproachfully at the king. He glanced sideways at his wife with amusement and whispered:
"I won't, I'm sorry. Those drunkards, my advisers, put together a rather cheerful report!"
- Those who support the evil Zhordar, the oppressor of the unfortunate Girsos of Amun, are enemies of the crown and will be destroyed just like the evil Zhordar, the spawn of the Underworld!
"Hail! The victor! Sanda the victor!" roared the crowd, excited and expecting free drinks and money.
"Now I will tell you about our neighbors, the evil ones, who covet our land, who drive our people into slavery..." Sanda continued, when, at her gesture, the crowd fell silent, hanging on every word of the living deity, the viceroy of the gods in this world.
The report on relations with neighbors, on peace and war, on the people of the kingdom continued for another ten minutes, and Sanda finished with the words:
– I will do everything to ensure that you are well-fed, clothed, shod and happy!
The crowd howled, falling to their knees and stretching out their hands towards the queen, and no one remembered that every king or queen, when ascending the throne, ended their message to the people with these very words - such is the tradition.
The people were in a frenzy—they truly loved their queen, they truly wanted to tear apart anyone who interfered with her life, and this power over the crowd was intoxicating, like a strong liqueur. And only one thought marred their joy: if only Ned had stood on that shield instead of Heverad... But what is, is.
A strange feeling stirred in the girl's soul. The thought flashed: "Is this power? It feels good. People obey me as if I were a goddess!"
Sanda tried to look for Ned in the crowd, but didn't find him, and she became sad and slightly haggard.
Heverad noticed this, understood everything and said reassuringly:
"He's here. Protecting you. You can't see him, which means your enemies can't see you either. But he's here, rest assured."
Meanwhile, Ned stood behind and slightly to the side, unnoticed in the shadows of the platform, watching a strange man hold the hand of his beloved, his wife. From time to time, the sergeant scanned the ranks of townspeople, eager to leap out to meet danger, and thought about how unfair and cruel fate was.