Crown of Sin

For Eilidh Canmore, destiny was written in prophecies.
The Sisters advised her father that she, his first daughter, would be queen. She would lead his people into prosperity, into wealth. In the history books, she would be written as the Queen of Revolution.
But they didn't mention Lanus.
Her scheming, accident of a little brother. The one always out of place, cast aside, unwanted by everyone but Eilidh. He watched her for years, silent and waiting.
The Sisters never told her father of his son's prophecy.
They never told him that they could see his future, where he sat upon the throne with the country at his feet, his head adorned with a stolen crown.
And they never told him that the crown was bathed in his sister's blood.



Thumb jammed in her mouth, she crouched in the shadows.

Her mother stood there cradling a newborn bundle. A tiny fist waved from within the blankets, almost like it was waving at her. She smiled around her thumb just as her mother began to speak.

“Shhhh,” she cooed gently as small wails started. “Shhhh, baby boy.” A ringed finger pulled the blanket from the baby’s face and she stroked a smooth cheek. Smiling softly, she whispered, “Don’t you go waking your big sister.”

The girl blushed proudly from where she hid. She loved hearing her mother talk to the baby—she sometimes missed being treated like a baby.

But being treated like a grown-up was far better. Chest puffing out proudly, she scooped some of her red curls behind her ears and thought of how trusting her mother was now. She wasn’t a child anymore. As her mother kept reminding her, she was a woman.

And eventually, one day, she would be queen. 

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