"So," Amaia started as she added her plate to the stack beside the sink, "It's great to see you again, Aunt Beatrice." She didn't ask aloud what she really wanted to. 'What brings you here?' and, more importantly, 'Why did you wait eight years?' 

      Her aunt smiled warmly back, "I missed you, Am. I promise you that." She reached for the cloth that hung on the windowsill and paused briefly, her smile reminiscing over a moment Amaia couldn't pinpoint. She waited patiently, awkwardly, for her aunt to resume movement so that she herself could move without disrupting the reverie. Gentle moments were hard to come by lately. 

      It wasn't long at all before her aunt plunged her hands into the bowl of hot, soapy water, dragging the first plate in with her. "How's the destiny going?" She asked. 

      It may have been genuine interest, but Amaia was so used to the question now that it felt like idle small talk. Automatically, she answered it as if it were, "Yeah, fine." 

      "Nothing new, then?" Her aunt pushed. 

      Amaia sighed, taking the first plate off the draining board a little too forcefully, nearly tipping the rack over. "No one seems to be in serious danger right now, no," she said with a hint of frustrated aggression, "I'm keeping an eye out, though, and sending out spies just to make sure." Lifting the next plate with more care, she added quietly, "I want to find and stop this terror sooner rather than later, Aunt Beatrice. I don't enjoy sleeping with one eye open." 'Or pushing Issar away when I want to pull him closer; or posing on a throne instead of playing in the streets. I gave up my childhood for something that feels like will never happen.'

      "Child," her aunt said softly, and Amaia flinched, "Being a ruler is not always enjoyable, it is necessary. You do what you do to give others enjoyment, not yourself." Somehow, she'd already finished washing everything from that evening, and Amaia found her damp towel was severely outnumbered. "But," Aunt Beatrice added, "When it's all over we can watch a movie in the screen room, how about that?" 

      Nodding, Amaia forced a small smile. Even though she had grown so much in character as well as body over the last eight years, Amaia had never considered her aunt may have done the same. 

      Suddenly panicking, worried that her silence would be cause to assume she wasn't mature enough to hold conversation - and therefore be ruler of their country - Amaia stuttered out, "And what about you? Anything new?" She cursed herself under her breath for having spoken so quickly and awkwardly, hoping her aunt hadn't picked up on it, but aware that there was little to no chance that that was possible. 

      In a deadpan voice, Aunt Beatrice rattled off the list of changes since they'd last spoken, "Your Uncle is gone, the business is okay but has seen better days, the nice neighbours moved house to be closer to family." Then, with an added smile and a soft-skinned hand resting on Amaia's cheek, "I wish you could visit. Rumpelgeist misses you deeply." 

      Rumpelgeist was Amaia's saluki. The dog had originally been her parents', and she'd grown up with him since birth. When her parents had passed away, Amaia had been forced to take the throne, despite being only twelve, and her Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Khaleel had kindly offered to look after Rumpelgeist while she settled into her new position. "Then let him stay with me," Amaia suggested, trying to keep the authoritative tone from her voice. "I am more than capable of caring for him." 

      "Perhaps that is true-"

      "It is, Aunt Beatrice," Amaia assured her, "I will have him brought here as soon as possible." 

      Her aunt nodded, seeming to understand that there would be no more to that conversation now, or ever. "Perhaps I will stay here too." 

      The comment knocked Amaia off balance, and she attempted subtlety as she leaned on the counter. Rather abruptly, the news of her uncle's passing sank in, and she stared at her aunt with shaky vision, "You can stay as long as you want." A sad smile drifted across her aunt's face as though caught on a breeze, holding for mere seconds before it was carried off again by the air current flowing from the open window. 

      Desperate to get out of the kitchen, Amaia rolled her shoulders back and said, "I'll see to the details now," and hurried on purposeful steps from the room.

      Once outside Issar's door, she slumped into herself and knocked with tired hands. It opened on the second contact, and he was guiding her into the room, nudging the door closed behind her. 

      "I have just heard the news that my Uncle Khaleel is dead, and I must organise for Aunt Beatrice's things and Rumpelgeist to come here at once, and-"

      "Mai," Issar spoke softly, reaching to take her hands in his own, the loops he made with his thumb and forefinger sliding down her wrists. "Slow down." He wrapped his arms around her, and she let herself lean into him, burying her face in his shoulder. He must have felt her tension, because he started rubbing soothing circles into her back, "You are human, let yourself mourn your uncle. I will sort the rest." Still, she hesitated. She was a ruler, some would say queen, and she could not be seen as weak. "Crying isn't a weakness, Mai, it shows you care. People trust people who care." 

      She let her tears soak his shirt and clung to him like a life ring in a storm.