It felt more than just a little difficult to breathe. Cyrille wondered if the room was truly spinning, or if it was just her. Gripping the arms of the chair tight, the princess had to hold in the rising feeling of sickness, lavender eyes darting about the room at the silent occupants. It was quite empty at the moment, aside from her bodyguard. Across from her, a man that she knew to be the royal family's doctor watched the minute movements of the girl he had treated since childhood with a wary gaze. Or was it pity that she saw? What did she know about what other people really felt or thought about her, when they more often than not weren't even allowed to talk, much less look upon her? Her mouth tasted like ashes, but after taking a shuddering breath, she finally found her voice.
"What of my father?" Before she even uttered those words, before they even left her lips, she already knew. Still, the young woman clung to any bit of hope that this was just all a horrible misunderstanding...
"Your Highness, your father left this world as of an hour ago." Doctor Gavin watched as the princess's hands clenched spasmodically, her fingers digging into the cushioned surface. "We were unable to stop the poisoning." He winced as soon as he shared that piece of information, unable to take his eyes off of Cyrille. She was such a fragile girl in appearance, and she had worried her parents enough times in the past as a young babe. The winters had been harsh on her health then, that it had even visibly taken a toll on the King and Queen. How could such strong rulers have such a weak child, the murmurs around the castle were. The princess was rarely seen outside of her quarters, and the last time the world ever saw the little royal was during her first birthday, which most thought was already an accomplishment in itself.
Growing up, the King had been most relieved when Cyrille eventually displayed a more vigorous disposition. The girl was sickly until she was around six years of age. Her mother had nearly wept with joy when the child was sick less and less, though there was still a frightfulness in the two parents whenever Cyrille asked to go play outside, or to let her go past the rooms of the quarters she had been living in all her short life. The Queen was more receptive to letting her enjoy her childhood than the King was, letting her cling to her sleeves of her skirt as they strolled around the gardens. The look of happiness on the child's face was enough to convince her.
Unfortunately, the Queen had also perished no more than two years later, and whatever happiness the royal family had flickered out like a candle after that.
Now, Princess Cyrille was truly alone in the world. Gavin could say that he was fond of the young girl, and now young woman, but she was no strong figure like her father once was, much less her mother. There was no knowing what the fate of the throne would be now, if it truly had to go to the hands of the princess. The King's most beloved legacy was hardly known to her people.
The doctor's thoughts took on a darker turn, but he made sure to hide the grimness from his face. "We have reason to believe that you are not safe in here anymore, Princess Cyrille, after what happened to the King." At this very moment, the ones who were loyal to the royal family comprised of himself, and perhaps the king's guards. The nobles that resided as guests were not to be trusted, as they were visiting for the lavish party that had been held in these halls three nights ago. It was the Princess's nineteenth birthday. She was not even allowed to partake alongside her subjects, and she was not there when her father collapsed, crumpling like a withering flower in the middle of what was supposed to be a joyous occasion.
Which brought them to this very moment, where Gavin, and perhaps that odd man who lurked behind the princeess as her shadow, held witness.
"I see." Cyrille spoke after a long moment, the words devoid of inflection. She wondered what was the most appropriate reaction, aside from shaking like a leaf. Her grip on the chair could not be tighter until her fingers left gouges or she tore her nails, but if she let go, her composure would probably follow. Her father's voice echoed in her head in that quiet, yet stern way he always spoke when it came to his child. You are a Blackwood, and even if the world hasn't seen you, you must never give them a reason to see weakness where there is one. Even in front of our trusted servants, you mustn't. Considering how anyone hardly saw her face or actually encountered her, the times she had to call upon that teaching were rare. Raising her chin, she turned her gaze on the window to the left. The heavy curtains were drawn shut, but she caught the uneasy glance Gavin sent it. "Are you suggesting that I leave these grounds, Doctor? My father has never allowed me to step foot outside of these walls."
Gavin pursed his lips, the doctor's whiskers on his top lip drooping with the movement. "Your uncle, Lord Rowan, has taken charge of the castle since his brother collapsed. He has been trying to call you out, but Captain Ulric has not fallen for the bait." He met her gaze as she turned towards him. "The knight captain believes that your uncle intends to take the throne by force, but we dare not imply or accuse him of committing your father's murder." It was harsh, forcing this on a daughter that loved her father dearly. Gavin was one of the few privileged enough to see the King and his daughter as humans instead of the mere royalty everyone else knew them as. "You must make preparations with Ezra, who was chosen for this very purpose, Your Highness."
He finally smiled, weak and almost defeated, at the bodyguard. "We are counting on you, Ezra Thornwick, to protect this girl. As of tonight, Castle Blackwood no longer recognizes a dead king or his daughter as their master. Lord Rowan will be crowned in a week's time, and he will get rid of any challenge to his right to the throne before then."