♡ Odette's POV ♡

My nerves were starting to get the best of me as I saw the hundreds of people sitting in white chairs. The scene reminded me of a wedding almost, just no justice of the peace and altar at the end of the walkway in front of everyone. Instead, a huge stage rested, four thrones placed there. I was notified that that was where the current ruling Maliks would sit, Zayn's family would stand around them.

We all lined up in order, first the King and his queen, then Delia's brothers, then Zayn's mother and father, Doniya, then Zayn and I , then Zayn's two younger sisters. We would all walk down the dark red carpet leading to the stage, then take our places and wait for Delia to come out. She would take her spot center stage, be crowned by her father, then turn to face her subjects, make a small speech, and that was it. I was hoping it wouldn't take long.

Trumpets announced our arrival, and all the men and women who had come to witness the coronation stood from their seats in respect. I took a deep breath as everyone moved forward, hooking my hand into the crook of Zayn's arm, letting him lead me to the stage.

I heard several murmurs from the crowd wondering who I was, but I kept my head high and ignored them. I would make them remember my name, no matter what. The Carlton family would be praised for raising such a wonderful daughter, not shamed for raising a coward.

It was silent and sort of awkward as we stepped onto the stage, my hands shaking slightly as I stared at all the people watching us. I gripped my hands together tightly, I had to keep my stage-fright to a minimum here. I could survive this, I was okay. I followed everything Miss Rita had told me, curtsying to everyone in time with the Maliks before taking my place next to Zayn.

I noticed Ivy was present at the ceremony as well, standing on the ground close to the side of the stage. She was an advisor, not a direct royal, so I guess she wasn't allowed to stand with us on the stage. I felt bad for her, but my pity vanished as I saw her catch me staring, offering a small smile to me before returning to her previous stoic expression.

As the trumpets finished playing the anthem of the Empire, the queen and her two sons sat down in perfect time in their thrones, but the King kept standing for his speech.

The king, Zayn's uncle, took his time saying a speech he had personally written, praising Delia and remarking on how wonderful of a queen she would be for the Malik Empire. It was touching, just hearing the love a father gave to his daughter, even in royalty.

He finished his speech rather quickly, probably wanting to give Delia her spotlight as long as she could.

"And now, I present to you, her royal highness, crown princess Delia Isabel Malik." the king spoke, raising his hand for the crowd to stand. I couldn't see Delia appear at first, but as soon as I did, my breath was taken away.

She was beautiful, a golden, shimmering gown accentuating her figure and making her glow. Her hair had been curled in ringlets that cascaded down her back and shoulder. Her princess tiara looked freshly polished and cleaned, as it gleamed in the sunlight. The biggest smile was on her face, her hands carefully folded together as she walked up to the stage.

The ceremony was really starting to remind me of a wedding now, only it wasn't a groom Delia was acquiring when she got to the stage. It was a country.

She slowly walked up the stage steps, offering me a small smile as she passed me on the way to her father. I couldn't help but smile at her, she was practically glowing with happiness and pride. She faintly reminded me of an angel, in glittering gold with a sparkling crown and bubbly mood.

I watched as she curtsied to the crowd before kneeling in front of her father, her large ball gown extending all around her. A servant brought forward a fancier tiara that rested on a velvet pillow, almost like a cartoon. Delia's eyes were closed as her father picked her princess tiara off her head, setting it down on the pillow before taking the one made for her to be a queen in his hands.

The king smiled in admiration at his daughter before raising the crown to the sky.

"With the lifting of this crown, I hereby relinquish my hold to the throne of the mighty Malik Empire." The king set the crown down onto Delia's head, the sweetest look in his eyes as he crowned his daughter queen. "Do you swear to uphold the laws of peace, justice, and camaraderie that this Empire was built upon so long ago?"

Delia opened her eyes, staring her father in the eyes. "I swear."

"Will you rule the great people of this nation as you would your own kin, keeping your citizens safe and happy?"

"I will." Delia answered firmly, and with that, the king placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Then I hereby crown you Queen Delia Isabel Malik, new ruler of the Malik Empire." The king happily spoke, releasing his hands from Delia's shoulders, allowing her to stand up. Delia gave her father a gracious hug before turning to her subjects. Her shoulders were thrown back, her head up high as she acknowledged her country for the first time as hers.

"Long live Queen Delia!" The former king shouted, the crowd standing and chanting along with him.

"Long live Queen Delia! Long live Queen Delia! Long live--"

And a strange sound became mixed in with the beautiful sound of people wishing Delia luck. I hadn't noticed the man before, as he was dressed in all black, but what he yelled made my blood turn cold.

"Long live the Revolution!" he yelled before raising something in the air, light gleaming off the metal contraption. I couldn't see what it was, but I knew immediately as I heard the sound it made.

A single gunshot was fired at the stage.

And the Queen fell to the ground, blood already staining her golden gown.

After that, all hell broke loose.

People started screaming as more gunshots rang out, others immediately running away from the scene. It was utter chaos as I saw more royals get hit and collapse. A scream was trapped in my throat, the Maliks scattering across the stage, Zayn rushing to his cousins. My head was flooding with questions and fear, the fear paralyzing me the most.

My feet were frozen, time moving in tortuously slow motion as I stared at the assassin, watching as his gaze shifted to me. The sleek, metal barrel of his gun seemed to shift ever so slowly to a new target as his cold eyes locked on mine, his finger pulling the trigger back. He was going to kill me.

He was going to kill me.

Something in my brain snapped, fight or flight instinct finally kicking in.

I turned to prepare to run as I heard the unmistakable sound of a gun going off, my body tensing as it instinctively braced itself for the burning pain of a bullet cutting through me. My heartbeat was pounding through my ears, blocking out the sound of anything else. My focus was trained on one thing: getting off the stage that now functioned as an execution platform.

I silently thanked my mother for all those painful high-heels I was forced to wear all my life as I full on sprinted to the edge of the stage, adrenaline making my non-athletic body faster and more agile than normal. Running in heels was something I was accustomed to, and it certainly worked to my advantage now.

I tripped on my way to my escape, my heart beat racing as I saw the assassin coming closer and closer, pushing his way through the screaming crowd.

This was it, I was going to die. I felt a tear fall as the assassin aimed for me, and then a flash of black crossed my vision, a gunshot was fired, and I heard a sickening thud as a body fell to the ground.

I began shaking as I looked up, seeing the back of a black uniform, tousled dark hair and tanned skin revealing that Zayn was in front of me, his body pressed against mine, shielding me from what would have been the assassin's kill shot. My breath caught in my throat, Zayn would have taken the bullet for me. But that didn't explain why I heard a thud, my head trying to peer around Zayn to see what had happened.

Zayn quickly turned around, his hand immediately going to my neck, forcing me to keep eye contact with him. He was a little rough with his actions, but as soon as he spoke I knew why.

"Don't look. I don't want you to see." He spoke firmly, and I froze, speechless. See? See what? "Keep your eyes on me."

Zayn's name was called, both of us turning our heads to find his father standing before us. Zayn stood, his father whispering some words into his ear. I watched as Zayn noticeably paled before nodding, standing up before taking one last worried glance at me. He looked around the stage before ordering a servant to come to him, telling the servant to take me to something called the bunker immediately. The male servant nodded before helping me to my feet, pulling me towards the staircase of the stage. I walked along with them until I remembered Delia was hit by one of the bullets.

I weakly fought against the hold of the servant, I had to see if Delia was okay. She had to be okay. I managed to release myself from the servant's grip, rushing over to where Delia was. I was stopped by a figure clad in black, her eyes as dark as the handheld gun in her right hand.

"Ivy, is she okay? Delia has to be okay, please say she's okay!" I managed to blurt out, but Ivy only gripped my arm roughly, beginning to pull me back to the servant. I was sick of getting tossed around like a little girl.

"Please Ivy! I need to know!" I screamed, my head turning as I yelled. I knew now why Zayn had told me to not look.

The assassin's body was on the ground in a pool of his own blood, a hole right between his eyes leaking more of the precious scarlet substance. My breathing became ragged, I was never good with scratches or scrapes, let alone a dead body. Ivy was quick to move my gaze from the dead body to her eyes, her hands keeping my head still.

"H-He's..." I mumbled, my mind replaying the frightening image again and again in my mind.

"Yes, he's dead, Odette. It's okay, you're safe. I took care of him." Ivy spoke smoothly, almost as if she were used to saying such terrible things.

"Y-You...you killed him!" My voice broke in the middle of my sentence, revealing just how scared I was.

"Yes, I killed him. I had to. He would have killed you." Ivy explained slowly and carefully, like I was child.

My body felt numb, nausea soon taking over. My stomach felt like it was doing somersaults, the image of the dead man burned into my brain. I felt lightheaded, and Ivy quickly handed me over to the servant once more, telling him to take me inside the huge white mansion for me to lie down.

I felt terrible, what had previously been a happy and joyous day was now shadowed with gunshots and the screams of people, and a possibly dead queen.