The crown felt heavier tonight. Queen Layla Thorne pressed her fingers against the windowsill, watching the ever-growing moon of Twilix spill silver light across her chamber. Tomorrow, she would face the Long Night: seven days of political maneuvering that could make or break her kingdom. Seven days to prove she deserved the throne her parents had died to leave her.
"Sulking isn't going to make this any better," Dara said from the vanity chair, her legs draped over one velvet arm.
"I'm not sulking." Layla didn't turn from the window. "I'm thinking."
"About how you're going to fail spectacularly?" Dara's boots hit the floor as she stood. "Because that's what your face is doing."
Layla finally turned, catching the familiar grin spreading across her best friend's face. Dara had been there since the beginning: before the crown, before the weight of a kingdom settled on Layla's shoulders like lead.
"I don't understand why I have to do this," Layla said. "It won't bring them back. It won't change the fact that I'm just... me."
"And that's exactly why you have to do it." Dara crossed the room toward her friend. "Because there's no one else who can. Your parents left you this burden, and it is a burden that only you can bear. So instead of whining about it, let's try to remember what we have spent the last twelve months preparing for." She placed her hand on Layla's shoulder. "Besides, I'll be with you, and if anyone says anything, I'll cut their tongue out and feed it to them." A half-smile formed on her lips as she squeezed gently.
"Yeah, because there's nothing like the threat of losing a body part to make them warm up to me," Layla laughed, feeling her breath loosen in her chest.
"Fuck if they warm up to you. You're not there to make friends; you're there to show your kingdom's strength, and you have plenty to show. So what if your mother's power didn't transfer to you when she died? Even without it, you are one of the most gifted thresh wielders I've ever seen. The other rulers may have inherited strength, but you've earned yours." Another laugh escaped Layla's lips, her violet and gold eyes lightening.
"Maybe it's me who needs to keep an eye on you, not the other way around," Layla said, stopping for a moment to admire the approaching moon. She closed her eyes, feeling the soft breeze on her skin, trying to remember what it was like to just be a girl, not this thing she had been forced into.
Her memory slowly took her to another place, a place where violet eyes met her own. The familiar warmth of that gaze wrapped around her like an embrace, and then soft wings began to beat against the edges of the vision. Feathered and shadowed with a golden hue that seemed otherworldly. Her breath caught in her throat. The beating grew louder, more insistent, until—
Her eyes shot open, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Hey, you alright? You left me for a moment," Dara asked, her hand finding Layla's shoulder, steadying her with familiar warmth.
"I'm here," she said, forcing her breathing to slow, forcing a smile back at her friend.
"The wings again?" Dara's voice was gentle, her amber eyes steady on Layla.
Layla paused, the beat of shadowed wings slowly fading from her mind. Her shoulders dipped in defeat. "The wings again," she admitted, surrendering to Dara's knowing stare.
"I'm fine. I'm just stressed. Everything seems to be going wrong, and my mind wanders." She rubbed her sweaty palms together and moved from the window, leaving Dara's stare behind.
"Get some rest," Dara said, her eyes trailing Layla across the large room. "We leave early, and you need to be at your strongest." She turned to the wooden and steel door and paused at the threshold. "And Layla? You're going to be brilliant out there. I know it."
The door clicked shut, leaving Layla alone with her racing thoughts and the lingering echo of golden wings.