"Deljin - Plot of Conception" by Debra L Kilman

            The Mursa walked purposefully down the long, marble hallway. The stoic expression she wore on her face did not betray the emotion screaming beneath the surface. She was the leader of the Mursoi and could not, would not allow her emotions to interfere with her duty. She knew the path she now followed could very well be her undoing, yet she planned to stay the course until the end.

            Don’la shook off fleeting memories as she reached the heavy wooden doors at the end of the corridor. She had entered the Mursoi against her mother’s wishes even though Shiette had known that her daughter had dreamed of nothing else. Don’la’s mother had been a member of the Honored Legion of Gausa and had wanted her oldest daughter to follow in her footsteps, not Don’la. She had worked hard to gain her present status and refused to feel guilty about it. She nodded in acknowledgement to the guards posted there, taking a deep breath as one of the young women pushed open the elaborately carved door for her.

            Don’la approached the podium, steeling herself, mentally rehearsing the words that she would share with the Tribunal. The plan had been going so well, she didn’t want to take any chances.

            The podium stood in the center of the room facing the dais that held her Queen’s throne. To the right and left were four rows of twenty-five individual cubicles each to hold the delegation gathered there. Light streamed in from windows cut high in the ceiling, the glass either frosted or painted to cut down the glare from the intensity of the sun. The floor was the same marble of the hallways, but the crescent-shaped tiers and the dais were made of granite. The only splash of color was in the draperies lining the dais and the painted windows. Queen Ylonna had changed the color of the draperies to blue, which Don’la had always thought added to the coldness of the room. There were many changes that her Queen had made that she didn’t particularly like, but she had her duty and in that, she took great pride.

            The most prominent women in the universe sat in this dreary room to hear her news. They were richly garbed in somber tones as they waited, masking their impatience. Only something drastic would bring most of them from the sanctity of their own homes to be here in person. During the course of her career, she had met each and every one of them, some of them she knew very well and even liked; some she did not, none of which mattered at this point in time.

            Don’la did not acknowledge any of the members as she took her place. They already knew the gist of what she would be telling them, but the formalities had to be adhered to. She did have to admit that the acoustics of this room were perfect for this task; there were no microphones or speakers anywhere.

            Her rich voice carried well as she began the words she had been rehearsing in her mind. “Noble ladies of the Tribunal, it is with great sadness that I now address you in the name of our Queen. As you know, Queen Ylonna is still abed from the travails of birthing, added to which is her overwhelming grief in the loss of a daughter.”

            Don’la let the gravity of her words sink in. She let her dark blue eyes sweep across the women to the right and left of her as she continued. “Although the grief of our Queen’s loss is great, she is comforted by the joy of her remaining daughter. Princess Nea Karra has been duly recorded in the Register of Royalty. Also noted is the loss of Princess Deljin Norre.”

            Don’la’s mind flashed back to the small dark-haired infant she had held in her arms only hours earlier. The light-haired baby the Meddi placed in her arms had comforted the hysterical cries of her Queen.

            Don’la kept her official statement short. “The Mourning Day for Princess Deljin Norre has been scheduled for day after tomorrow, after which, you may return to your homes.” She took a step back, placing a closed fist to her breast and nodded once toward the empty throne, out of respect for the royal house and the oath she had taken years before.

            Don’la turned on her heel and quickly exited through the same doors she had entered from. She fought hard to keep her mind from racing ahead of where she needed to be. Time seemed to be slowing down and she struggled against the impatience she felt. There was so much yet to do.

            The great hallways of the palace were oddly quiet. That didn’t come as a surprise to the Mursa. The past few days had taken a toll on everyone. At least an odd sense of quiet had replaced the tension of the upcoming birth. Queen Ylonna had been in a constant state of turmoil the past few weeks and thus kept the entire palace staff in an uproar.

            Don’la reached the great staircase in the center of the Palace and began the climb to the upper level. Reaching the landing of the first floor, she turned right, toward her Queen’s chambers. Lately she always dreaded the visits with Ylonna. The young Queen’s state of mind had become increasingly fragile since the lion-man had left her.

            Don’la knew her history well. She knew of the decline in the royal lineage since the queens had turned away from the Tavcoa. She knew that their return could have strengthened the line and brought it to its former glory. She also knew that Ylonna had grossly twisted fate by giving birth to her son. Had she given birth to a daughter, the reality of today would not be so tragic.

            “Treason!” whispered in the back of her mind. She gritted her teeth and paced the remained steps to Ylonna’s chambers. She nodded the thought away, knowing that her course could not be changed now.

            Don’la did not have to announce her entrance, although out of courtesy she knocked before entering the private chamber. The room was much to ‘fluffy’ for her tastes, but then, Ylonna was ultra-feminine, so the pink and white frills suited her well. The young queen lay in the center of her huge canopied bed upon over-stuffed white lace pillows; the pink silk draperies were pulled and tied back with golden cords. She cooed and hovered over her infant daughter, which she held tightly in her arms. Ylonna’s dark hair framed her alabaster skin as it fell down around her and the child. The white gown she wore was barely a shade different than the garment she was all but lost in. The dark pink covering was such a drastic conflict that it almost hurt Don’la’s eyes to look at it.

            Don’la stood and silently watched the scene for a few more moments before speaking. She felt the tug of her heart as she wished she had more time to spent with her daughter. Her duties had kept her from devoting as much time as she wanted to Sharla. She knew that her daughter was receiving the best of care. She’d left her with her sister on Janzeer, on the estate she called home. Ylonna had not liked the news of her Mursa being with child and grudgingly given permission for Don’la to return home to give birth. The Queen had been relieved when the leader of her Mursoi had returned without her child. Some of the high-ranking members of the Mursoi had questioned Don’la’s choice of timing, but then, they had no idea of the plans that had been set in motion. Sharla was as much a part of her carefully laid plans as the baby lying in the arms of her Queen.

            The pale-haired infant in the arms of the Queen was almost an exact opposite of the dark-haired child Don’la had taken from the birthing chamber a few short days ago. This child’s hair was almost white and so thin it could barely be seen. Princess Nea seemed to shrink close to her mother and her soft cries sounded much like a small, weak kitten, when she bothered to make any noise at all. Her eyes barely opened and when they did, she blinked incomprehensively and appeared to try to merge with her mother, already shying away from all others. Queen Ylonna had named her for the birthmark she bore on her left thigh – it resembled the Neanous flower, beautiful, yet fragile. Don’la thought she couldn’t have chosen a more perfect name.

            Princess Deljin had been born first, screaming her challenge as she entered the world. Her cry had been loud and strong, her little arms and legs reaching out and kicking. The little princess had thick, long, black hair and as perfect coloring as any newborn babe could have. Ylonna had only seen her for a few seconds before the Meddi had pinched the baby to still its cries. Don’la had been right there to whisk her from the room. The other Meddi present had followed her out and returned to shake her head at the young Queen, insinuating that Deljin had died. Don’la had done everything she could so that the words “dead” or “death” were never mentioned. It hadn’t even been necessary to go that far, just as Don’la had thought. Ylonna’s state of mind was so delicate; the head shaking had been enough. Ylonna had instinctively reached for the younger child and didn’t even think to ask any questions. Don’la had counted on that.

            “My Lady.” Don’la nodded toward her Queen out of respect since her position didn’t require her to bow. She waited patiently for Ylonna to respond.

            Ylonna slowly lifted her eyes from the sleeping baby, as if she didn’t quite hear her Mursa. “Ah, Mursa Don’la, how kind of you to visit us.” A slow, dreamy smile spread across the picture perfect face of the young queen. She looked again to her daughter before she spoke. “Isn’t she beautiful? She’s so tiny, so perfect.”

            “Yes, my Lady, she is indeed beautiful.” Don’la spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the dream-like state her Queen was in.

            “She will never leave my sight, Mursa, never.” The Queen’s eyes seemed to harden as she spoke and her voice became sharper. Don’la barely dared to breathe, she had seen this switch before and it was hard to say which way it would go. Ylonna’s eyes returned to Don’la, looking hard as if to see through her. “You, Mursa. You will watch over her personally, do you understand me? If she is not with me, then you will be with her every moment of her life. I charge you with this.”

            Don’la nodded. “I understand my Queen.”

            Much to Don’la relief, Ylonna did not press the issue. She could have made her swear an oath or accept the charge, but she did not. Instead, she was satisfied by the answer and slipped back to the soft bundle in her arms. Don’la knew it would be days, maybe even weeks before the Queen left her chambers and she would not be willing to leave the princess with anyone, not even herself. That was something else she counted on.

            Don’la shoved all the variables into the back of her mind. Just another day and everything would be done. Just one more day.