A/N: I have hardly written anything about Laila. I've mostly used her as an instrument in the plot instead of giving her any personality or independence from my plans. I feel sorry about that, but even when I'm trying to give her a personality, she seems not to have one. Ah well.
Deliberation
The hour for silent and hateful deference had arrived. The proud king did not move as the sorcerer paced before him, the man's sharp, amused gaze passing over the four royal children as if they were little more than livestock. Unable to meet his children's fearful eyes, the king stared at the floor of the throne room. Soon, he would have only three.
The throne room echoed with the sorcerer's slow, deliberate footsteps. The children stood quiet and unmoving before an equally silent court, acting with the grace of condemned innocents. The king felt a mournful twinge of pride at the courage his heir displayed, standing tall with his shoulders rigidly straight, his youthful face a mask of determination. The boy was ready to accept his fate on behalf of his kingdom.
Destane hummed thoughtfully, savoring his absolute power over the fates of innocent children and a kingdom brought to its knees. To the king's surprise, he passed the crown prince and stopped before the flaxen-haired princess. A look of intrigue lit his unnaturally sharp eyes, and the king watched in consternation as a murderer's hand touched his daughter's fair face. The girl shivered under the wizard's piercing gaze, and the king wanted nothing more than to run him through with his blade. If the sorcerer demanded two children instead of one, he did not know if he could restrain himself from drawing his sword.
Destane leaned in and spoke softly into her ear. "You feel their fear, don't you?"
"Lord Destane-"
No sooner had the king spoken than he found his entire body rigid as a stone. The sorcerer turned toward him with a deadly smile.
"I wasn't addressing you, my good king." His azure gaze settled once again on Laila. "Your father is quite protective of you, isn't he? His precious, golden haired daughter?" He lowered his cultured tone. "The lovely Maristean empath."
Laila was visibly shaking, cringing back from the vile man. He merely grinned and drew closer. "Well? How does the fear of a king taste? Sharper than the fear of children?"
The king despaired as she nodded almost imperceptibly. The wizard tilted his head in mock curiosity. "Tell me, my dear, do you know which one of you I'm going to choose?"
Her siblings tensed, waiting for the verdict. The king felt a dry fracture in his heart as his daughter lowered her head slowly, already accepting her unexpected fate.