Nakira's story:
I was eleven when the warriors attacked. Two years later war encircled us. Everyone knew someone who was killed.
I'll always remember the way Father looked at me that last evening. He didn't often look at me. I was never important. Girls were not.
I felt his gaze first. When turning, found his green eyes solemn. Evaluating. My only other memory was back of his purple cloak. Watching father stride from the hall. Faint glimmer of the gold crown across back of his forehead.
Even before I found servants packing my chamber, I tasted fear on my tongue. My stomach tumbled in knots.
"It will be for the best."
Sometimes, I think Mother said those words.
Often that I only wished she had. That she'd given me some farewell before I was sent away. To marry a foreign lord in a foreign land. Not even a prince of any rank.
That was thirteen years ago.
For thirteen years, I lived in this new world. It has become my home. The other seems like long ago dream.
When the messenger arrived, he seemed like visitor from an imagined world.
The message: "King Brutus was dead." My father.
King Feargan was dead.
King Halvod was dead.
My brothers. Older than me. I barely knew them even when I lived in Dalriada.
"You fair Princess Nakira are our remaining Heir."
You are our heir.
I stared at the messenger disbelieving. Heir.
They wanted to make me Queen.