Yadin saw her expression of concern. She knew him too well; he couldn’t hide his feelings from her. At seventeen, she was two years younger than he was, yet she possessed more wisdom than many women did at three times her age. He put his hands on her hips and drew her near.
With no preamble, he told her of the tragedy. “My father is dead.”
Libeth’s brilliant azure eyes screamed the shock that her open, speechless mouth couldn’t voice. She stood there sullenly as Yadin retold all the messenger had relayed. She nervously ran a hand through her light brown hair. She didn’t bother to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.
She shook her head in disbelief. “This makes no sense at all. Why would anyone want to kill your father? What was his reasoning? The King was loved by all. He was a very great man.”
Yadin embraced her, soaking up her comforting words. He motioned to her bulging midsection, firm and round with their first child. Even in pregnancy, she glowed in the light pink dress she wore.
“This is supposed to be a season of joy for us, Libeth. I wanted to celebrate this. This child represents the embodiment of our love. Tonight, you and I were to celebrate your seventh month of expectancy.”
Libeth took his hand and held it gently in her own. She spoke softly, almost whispering. “We’ve celebrated six months already. Today should be set aside as a time for mourning. There is an ancient proverb: ‘There is a time for every season under the sun; under the sun, every season must have its time.’ Do you remember?”
Yadin nodded. “Then today we will mourn. And the entire kingdom of Avendis will mourn with us. Tomorrow, we’ll have a ceremony of remembrance. We’ll give him the honorable burial he deserves. Let us go and gather all the royal messengers together. This kingdom deserves to know the truth. I will need their strength as they will need mine.”
In the throne room, Yadin gathered the numerous messengers, none older than fifteen, and gave them the sad news. He assigned each boy or girl to carry the message to different districts of Avendis. Within the hour, their task would be complete and the whole city would cry at its loss.
Yadin dismissed the messengers with an absent-minded wave of his hand. With Libeth still on his arm, he turned and looked at the empty, velvet-cushioned throne. “I’m never going to see my father sitting there again. My heart feels broken, my Dove, shattered like a glass vase fallen to the floor.”
“His spirit will always be with us,” Libeth said tenderly. She stepped up on her toes and kissed his cheek.
A cough from behind interrupted their tender moment. “Prince Forsythia, we need to speak.”
Yadin turned and Libeth with him. Three men stood before him, all with white hair and beards. These men were the senior members of the Royal Advisory Panel.
The Prince held deep respect for the men, but looking at them nearly brought a smile to his lips. The three had been working together for so long that, if one didn’t know better, a person would think them brothers. As a boy, Yadin had given them years of playful teasing concerning the similarity of their looks. The serious expressions they wore now were purely business.
“Counselors,” Yadin said, bowing slightly in respect to their positions. The three bowed in return as the Prince queried their presence. “What can I do for you?”
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