“Is it true what they say of the Queen?” Asked Dariano as their carriage rolled up towards the famed Ahamibaga.
“It shall have to depend on what they say,” said Adela looking to her second eldest stepson. She rolled her eyes slightly at the use of the word ‘they’. “Though I go as far as to say that you should make no assumptions based on rumors.”
Dariano smiled. The prince, the second born of King Jayas by his first wife, the late Queen Kamalika was the tallest amongst his siblings, standing at an inch over six feet. He was a well built man, muscular and fit, his cleanly shaven visage considered quite handsome. He had the strong jaw and sharp features of his father and dark eyes, hair, and skin of his late mother. His hair was cut shortly with tight curls. A faint horizontal scar slashed its way under right eye. The second prince despite his great size had long lived in the shadow of his older brother, the Crown Prince of the Meyarines.
In this regards, Dariano had decided to be everything that his weak precious brother was not. Fierce and strong and unabashed in his more roguish and rakish pursuits. All of which had seen to Adela to be aspects of character that he shared with her cousin the Queen of Turanda.
“Are they rumors if they are true?” asked Alakas as he turned a page of his novel, the second he had read on the journal from tropical island city of Kela to the arid coastal port of Bendas.
Dariano laughed, while Adela snapped her fan at him, mimicking the mannerisms of her most august aunt, the Queen of Genes. She now too understood the versatility of a good fan for a Queen when dealing with her dynasty.
Prince Alakas was the third son of King Jayas, barely a year younger that Dariano. Indeed, it seemed that King Jayas and the late queen had had great affection towards one another. They had had three children in swift succession, having three sons in three years before the late queen must have become exhausted. Having only marked her second year as queen and have had her own child she could understand the instinct.
Alakas lacked his brother’s height, standing seven inches shorter than him. He was finely built, thin and studious in his nature. His skin was unblemished was a lovely shade darker than his brothers, a lovely mahogany to Dariano’s sandalwood. His features sharper, his eyes, lined with long lashes, were so dark they looked black, his hair longer and more wavy than curly as it fell around his ears. He was pleasing to eye surely, though in a far subtler way, for his light shown from within from his intellect and maturity. He observed, often silently, and understood far more than most realized.
It was this contrast that Adela thought he would pair well in complements for her cousin. The tempering of her tempest.
The Queen of the Meyarines opened her mouth to respond but was cut off as the carriage came to a stop before the palace. The footman opened the door. Alakas closed his book, tucking it under his arm as the door opened. Adela looked to her stepsons. “Do behave yourselves,” she said as she stepped out onto the steps and descended to the ground.
“One imagines,” Alakas said, following her out, “to win the queen—“
Dariano stepped out next, grinning as he looked up at the grandeur of the palace, “—we must do the exact opposite.”
