Queen Nheera sat in one of the rooms in her private quarters, The velvet curtains drawn tight and the doors were closed to keep everyone else out. The air smelled of incense and old wood. She leaned back in her carved chair, fingers tapping slowly on the armrest as she watched her two sons.
Hairan paced near the window like a caged animal, his broad shoulders tense, fists clenched at his sides in agitation.
"We bury Father and then what? Forty days of this nonsense? I should take the throne the same week. The people need a strong king, not some sniveling bastard sniffing around the crown."
Azul sat cross-legged on the settee, a thin smile playing on his lips as he watched Hairan grow increasingly more agitated.
"Calm yourself, Hairan. Shouting won't change the law. We are at a critical time where the whole kingdom will be watching. The courtiers, the head priests, even the high ranking generals. They all expect us to follow tradition." Azul said.
