Page 57 of The Curse of the Goddess

“You are her favorite,” Maris added but quickly bit her tongue over the stupid comment. Of course she is her favorite, Maris. She is her owner.

“Cerberus was a gift from Arwin a long time ago. She hasn’t left my side ever since.”

“Did… you have other pets other than Cerberus?”

“No,” Valda answered while Cerberus moved with deliberate grace from the arm rest to Valda’s lap. She curled up into a ball and let out a soft huff when the queen’s hand fell on her back. “I don’t want any more pets. She is a handful as she is. She hates Arwin, dislikes Kayden… I am surprised she hasn’t bitten you yet.”

“Yet,” Maris repeated, trying to break the tension with some humor, but Valda’s expression didn’t waver, and she decided it was better to let it go. “Do you wish to be alone, my Queen?” Maris asked, seeing Valda’s tense upon calling her.

Valda shook her head, the tiara on her head did not budge. She stood from the sofa seconds after Cerberus jumped from her lap and proceeded towards the table with the bottles of liquor. Seeing Valda move about without much help pleased Maris. Still, she wanted Valda to get some of her independence back. She should do something to help Valda navigate her chamber, but Maris didn’t want to be separated from Valda. Not yet at least.

Valda pouredherself a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid glinted in the dim light, and she could almost smell the pungent aroma from where she stood. The queen’s hand trembled as she raised the glass to her lips, a telltale sign of the inner turmoil she was trying to quell. The first sip burned, making Valda cough and her eyes water, but she didn’t stop. She took another sip, then another, her throat working as she swallowed hard. The tension in the room ebbed slightly with each sip, replaced by a distant numbness that settled over Valda’s features.

Valda rubbed her hand against her pants, opening her eyes, lost in the swirling liquid in the glass, as if seeking solace in its depths. The lines of worry on her face softened, replaced by a fleeting moment of respite, a temporary escape from the burdens that weighed her down. She was trying to distract herself, but then again there were other ways to do so, other ways that the queen had openly suggested to Maris.

“It sounds weird when you call me ‘queen’,” Valda muttered, guiding herself to the sofa again. “I am no queen.”

Maris frowned. “Then, what was all that ceremony? A show?”

Valda didn’t even turn to face her. She usually did so when they talked, at least Maris would know she was paying attention to her, but now, Valda wouldn’t do so. It was as if she was talking to a damn wall.

“What do you need, my Queen?”

“I need to go to sleep for four months.”

Maris pursed her lips. “You are allowed to cry.”

“I’ve done that plenty,” Valda growled, a warning for Maris to be quiet and not to meddle.

“It’s fine to do until you are dry out.” Maris walked towards her, as she took another sip. “It’s much better than what you have been doing,” Maris said, overstepping her boundaries and taking the glass from Valda’s hands.

Surprisingly, Valda didn’t react to it. Instead, she turned to Maris.

She sat in silence and the darkness of her existence. Resting her elbows on her knees, the tiara dangled unimportantly and forgotten from her forefinger.

Valda fell from the sofa down to her knees while tightening her hold on her mother’s crown until her knuckles were white.

“You must rest.” Maris touched her muscular forearm.

Valda closed her eyes and nodded. The crown slipped from her hands as Maris grabbed it and placed it on the nearest table. She came back and put her hands on Valda’s face.

“My Queen,” Maris began, feeling the weight of the word upon her lips. Valda was the queen. She commanded the strongest army on the planet. She was unreachable, stoic, strong, and yet there she was, small, wounded, vulnerable.

Valda scoffed and shook her head. “No, not yet. I can’t—”

Maris lifted Valda’s head to face her. She witnessed Valda Aither crumble down to a mess of snot and tears. Maris didn’t judge her. She was too familiar with that grief. Maris had felt this vulnerability before, loneliness was needed in a time like this, but it surely was not recommended. It only made things worse, opening the door to overthinking, which led to deplorable and self-harming actions. Maris closed her eyes tightly and inhaled sharply as she pushed down long buried memories.

Vulnerability was a gift that not many were eager to share. And Valda had given her just that, the thing that humanized and equalized everyone.

Pain.

Maris’s fingers played with the sweat-damped hairs on the back of Valda’s head. She knew Valda’s way of dealing with things was unorthodox, but her very soul was screaming to do something, not just sit there and listen to Valda cry.

Valda shuddered, took in a sharp intake of breath, and grabbed hold of Maris’s upper arm.

“My Queen...”

“I am no queen. I am not good at making decisions. I act like I am, but I am not.”

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