In Prince Richard’s chambers, Ziva stood at the corner, her whole body trembling. In anger, he had tipped her over and she had completely lost it. Looking at the torn apart room and the blood drops on the floor she knew were his, she could not find any justification for what she had done. Sliding down against the wall, she slouched on the floor with her body still shaking until she heard the door opening and the Queen walked in.
“Your Highness,” Ziva’s lips moved but no sound came out. She had never met her in person but had seen enough portraits around the Castle to know that she was the reigning Queen Mira, Prince Richard’s mother.
“Oh Dear!” Queen Mira exclaimed at the rumble that use to be her son’s meticulous chambers before gaining her composure. “Come with me,” she said, offerin
