The Puppet Queen: A Tale of the Sleeping Beauty

by Mira Zamin

  ***

  Later that week, to enliven the monotony of ceaseless power wrangling, Kershid and Liem hosted a small dinner and dance on Queen Erina’s behalf.

  Entering the turquoise and gold tiled chamber, I greeted Kershid and Liem and the other emirs and emiras. Walking past Quenela, I tried to overhear what she was saying to Hadil, but she fell silent as I neared. Kaladus sneered as I took my seat at Ferdas’s left at the long oval table. “Do you think Queen Erina will attend?” I asked Ferdas, craning my neck as if expecting her to process through the wooden double doors.

  He shook his head. Rubies, which matched his bright crimson tunic, twinkled in his ears like drops of blood. “I doubt it. She’s been ill for a while. I do not think she has been seen in public for months.”

  I sighed, disappointed. I would have liked the opportunity to speak with her. I considered if there were some way I could convince Kershid or Liem to permit me to see her. They jealously guarded their mother’s health, allowing little disruption of her days.

  “Do you think Liem will contest for the throne?” I asked, watching the handsome man at the head of the table.

  “Have you not heard?” Ferdas said, surprised. “He has announced that he would exempt himself and help Kershid mediate.”

  I had been wondering how fair it was that the Arbiter was brother to a would-be claimant.

  Ferdas began cutting through his rosemary roasted chicken with relish, but I could not touch a bite of it nor the savory pheasant stew. I was so nervous that the very aroma made me want to reach for a basin.

  I elbowed Ferdas and discreetly indicated a woman clothed in coat and breeches, her brown hair bound into a tight braid, who was speaking with a group of nobles. “Who is that?” I had never before seen a woman in pants.

  Ferdas swallowed his chicken. “That is General Niara, the army’s newest general. She is currently in Nyneveh, acting as a liaison between the Queen and the army.”

  I nodded in interest. There was a time in Ghalain’s history when a ruler could not ascend to the throne unless they were backed by the army or its three generals. Our country had changed much since then, but the king or queen was still obliged to work closely with the army.

  Every so often, a noble would approach me to speak, skirting issues like the curse and Quenela and Hadil’s war. Although I listened to their concerns and suggestions attentively, I could not keep my curious attention from the head of the table where a group of six men and women sat clustered together. They were well-dressed, but not exorbitantly so; their clothes were simple, neat and pressed. One or two even wore gems in their ears.

  I nudged Ferdas. “Who are they?”

  “The merchants and peasants of the Thirds Council.” He looked at me knowingly.

  I squinted as I examined them. One of them, an older woman in canary yellow woolens with silver in her hair caught my eye. Embarrassed, I dropped my gaze. “Excuse me,” I murmured to Ferdas. Slowly, I approached the knot of men and women and curtseyed deeply. “Good evening, good sirs and good ladies.”

  “Good evening, your Grace,” they replied. Each introduced themselves. I lost track of their names after the first two and resorted to polite nods.

  My mouth was dry. They might not have been noble, but they were some of the most influential men and women of the kingdom. I did not know what to say, but the hawk-nosed woman whose eye I had caught saved me.

  “You were employed at the home of an Esadora Wiqf in Clemen, were you not, Emira?”

  My brow quirked in surprise. “Yes, I was governess for her son, Corec for two years. How...?”

  The woman, who had introduced herself as Calenda and sat with a straight-backed posture that would have put even Auralia to shame, explained, “I have handled numerous investments for Madame Wiqf.”

  A stern-faced man, dressed in blues and creams, peered down at me and boomed, “Do you mean to say that you have worked and that you have worked for a merchant family. As a governess?”

  A defiant flush rose to my cheeks. “Yes, I did,” I answered, meeting his brown eyes firmly.

  He sat back in his seat. A pensive smile spread across his face. “Interesting, very interesting.”

  Another man, this one a peasant judging by his clean if plain tunic, was more to the point. “A noble who has not been swaddled in privilege their entire life and has actually worked.” He exchanged a significant look with Calenda. “How did that come about?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. His shaggy brown hair nearly reached his elbow.

  Suddenly, I saw it from their point of view. A noble who had lived as a commoner was a novelty, but a good one. And if that noble could be queen...

  At last, I found my wits. “A rebellious youth,” I replied. “I do not regret it, though. It provided me with an experience that I doubt any of my peers have, who have never looked at a merchant or a peasant but to see an inferior.” I laughed self-deprecatingly. “It’s hard to see someone as an inferior when they put the bread on your plate and the roof over your head. I will always be indebted to Madame, and any friend of hers is a friend of mine,” I finished. Let them make of that what they would.

  Calenda grasped my hand. Hers was dry and firm. “This has been most enlightening. We must meet again.”

  I inclined my head. “As you say. You have but to call upon me.” Nodding at the other Council members, I rejoined Ferdas. As the heady, golden buzz of success filled me, I was hard-pressed to not break out in a jig. They did not have a vote, but they had influence.

  “I know what you were doing,” Ferdas murmured in my ear. I could hear his smile.

  I bowed my head demurely, but could not stop the grin from spreading across my face. “One of them knew an old friend.”

  “The others, I know Quenela for one is seriously contesting for the throne, perhaps that old vixen Corrine, and possibly Kaladus, but they have yet to make overtures to the Thirds Council.”

  “It is early days yet. Of late, I have felt more at ease with commoners than aristocrats. I merely wished to speak to them. And what makes you think I am contending for the crown?” I asked sharply.

  He chuckled, displaying teeth white against his tanned skin. “I can read it in your face at every Assembly meeting. Auralia would get that same face sometimes: determined, stubborn. You look her sister more then than ever at those times.”

  The music of drums and flutes wove through my surprised silence. “Did you know Auralia well? I...didn’t know...” Memories of a sixteenth birthday party fluttered in the corner of my mind...

  But he answered with natural ease, “After you departed, Luix of Aawset named me co-envoy to Aquia with my father—a means to progress my training. I spent a great deal of time there and became well-acquainted with all your family, better than I had been, but Auralia and Gieneve in particular.” He stopped. “I think they were the two who felt your absence most sharply. Emir Luix had summoned me back to Aawset from Aquia a few weeks before the curse. My father was stricken. I was saved.” His thin, rosy lips tightened and he waved a long, elegant hand, indicating the company in their silks and velvets, the iron torches reflecting against the polished marble floors, the high walls and domes arching above. “Had he not been cursed, I would not be here.” His voice became gruff. “I would...” He could speak no more.

  I patted his hand soundlessly. I had not noticed if Ferdas’s father had been strewn among the sleeping, but I assured him that they all had been put into beds, as safe as we could make them.

  Ferdas’s face blazed with fervor. “You must find a way to lift this curse, Selene. If I could, I would leave Nyneveh right now and —!”

  My reply was lost in loud exclamations. Courtiers pointed madly at the window, delighted as young children.

  “Snow!”

  Excitedly, I looked up. The first snow of the Season was gently blowing on Nyneveh, just a few occasional white sparkles caught by the torches outside. Although Winter was cold in Nyneveh, it rarely snowed, only occasionally
and when the Season was more than halfway through. I knew if I stepped outside, the air would bite and the flakes would catch on my eyes, bright against my smoky lashes. I smiled as wisps of memory creeped through me: sledding with Nic and Gareth; slicing through ice-solid Menander River on skates with Auralia, Ceara, and Evra, their long golden hair streaming behind them; waging snow wars with Gieneve and Danyal; snuggling with my nieces and nephews while they were placated with hot apple cider; sloughing through the snow in Clemen with Oelphie, arm in arm, to reach the tavern...Tears pricked for this lost world of memories.

  “Are you alright?” It was not Ferdas’s voice, but a light feminine one that rang in my ear.

  With a bashful laugh, I dabbed away the tears. “Quite fine, thank you.”

  The woman came closer, leaving a knife-nosed man behind. She smiled, lighting up her white-gold hair and bright blue eyes. “I notice that you have not touched your meal. Was it not to your liking?” The question was not prying, but posed with a professional interest.

  I looked down at my plate and immediately wished I had not. The scent of pheasant swimming in cream and its own juices was nauseating. A spasm wracked my body but I suppressed it.

  “Are you sure you are quite fine?” she asked again with concern.

  I hesitated. I looked and over and saw Ferdas engrossed in conversation with Fyodor.

  Seeing my pause, she assured me, “Before I wed, I had some little training on my father’s estates as a doctor. Of course, trade, no matter how learned and privileged, is not suitable for a nobleman’s wife. I still advise the ladies of my acquaintance and the court, though. I would be honored if you would confide in me.”

  Something in her smile was reassuring. “I have been ill for sometime, occasionally unable to keep food down. The illness does not desist and yet I grow fatter!” As I said it, pieces clicked together in my mind and I suddenly felt very stupid. The woman’s emerging smile only confirmed my guess.

  “What of your moon cycles?”

  “Ah. Perhaps…four, five months ago?” I felt faint. I was thankful that I was seated otherwise I was sure that my legs would have quite given out under me.

  “Congratulations, milady! Now, be sure to eat well,” she advised. “Otherwise, consult with a midwife or myself if something worries you. Do you have any questions?”

  I had so many but could produce none, merely shaking my head ‘no’ again. Once more that night, even the memory of words escaped my mind.

  Chapter Fifteen