The Puppet Queen: A Tale of the Sleeping Beauty

by Mira Zamin

Garbed in my gold-embroidered forest-green gown that brought out the luster in her brown hair, Oelphie flushed with pleasure as Miri served her a cup of wine. Oelphie was keeping me company while Reyal helped dress me in my gossamer crimson ball gown. Beginning tomorrow, I would be inundated with a host of young nobly-born women to serve me. A great number had flocked to Nyneveh from the countryside to be ladies-in-waiting to the new queen at her court, but I had insisted that I be attended only by a few tonight. Still feeling slightly ill, I did not think I could stomach the tittering and squealing that accompanies girls as surely as lightning is followed by thunder. Although they would be around my age, I already felt generations their senior—just thinking of them tired me.

  “I never thought I’d see you again, Sel—your Majesty.”

  Clipping on heavy ruby earrings, I laughed and said, “Selene, please. How cumbersome would our correspondence be if weighed down by titles? It is such a pleasure to see you again, Oelphie, I cannot tell you.”

  Miri swept kohl onto my eyelids as Oelphie replied, “Seasons, it is hard to grow accustomed to thinking of you as Queen of all Ghalain. Emira of Aquia was alright; I’d had my suspicions, but this! Seasons!”

  I snorted and clasped a heavy ruby necklace around my throat. “You and me both.” I perfunctorily checked myself in the long mirror—the gems of the necklace fell against my chest in a pattern that eerily resembled blood spatter. Rolling my eyes melodramatically, I nestled the heavy crown into my hair. Diamonds winked entrancingly

  “And what of Abarta?” I asked, eager to hear news of the innkeep who had been so kind to me in Viziéra. “And Constanisa?”

  Oelphie giggled. “The inn is thriving and she is as indomitable as ever. She and Constanisa send their love and congratulations. Abarta wants you to know that when you return to Viziéra, you must rest a night with her.”

  “Nothing would give me greater pleasure. Ah,” I said, noticing the deep reds and burning oranges crisscrossing the sky. “Time to go.”

  Kershid, who was dressed in an impeccable grey coat and breeches, with gold embroidered cuffs met me at the door. His knuckles stood poised to knock.

  He dropped his hand. “You look lovely, your Highness. And you as well, Mistress Oelphie,” he added, peering behind me. I turned to see her blush. I could not help but grin.

  Once we left my wing, we were surrounded by an honor guard, who accompanied us to the doors of the ballroom. I could not see past them until they suddenly gave way as the enormous doors swung open, revealing the gilt and mirrored interior. The music of dulcimers and horns broke over us. The assembly rose at my entrance and I could not help but gasp, my elevation in station suddenly very tangibly real to me. Dazedly, I smiled. Kershid seated me at the center of the high table, surrounded by the other—nay, my emirs and emiras.

  My arrival signaled the beginning of a dance of courses: roasted and spiced chicken, quail stew, lamb with herbs, goat and mint, flat Aquian bread, milk-white cheeses…my mind and stomach reeled from keeping track of the courses as I made pleasant conversation with the emirs and emiras.

  At one point, Lyra tilted her head in such a way that so eerily resemble my father that tears stung my eyes. What would my mother and father, who considered me to be such a scapegrace, think to see me now as their queen? I knew that in my adolescent sullenness, I had considered myself to be an afterthought to them, but now older and about to be a mother in my own right, I comprehended just how deeply my parents loved me. It struck me that I had never considered truly how much my running away had hurt them, had worried them. I had assumed that they had not cared, but, in a moment of startling clarity, I realized that I had assumed that because it was easier for me. They were more precious to me than I had known. I blinked back my tears. Now that I was Queen, I would see it all right.

  As the dessert courses began and my spoon was poised above a rich ganache, Fyodor leaned across the table and asked, “Your Majesty, have you made any progress on the situation with Quenela and Hadil?”

  Corrine, hearing his question, barked, “Give the girl a moment to breathe. She has only just been crowned.”

  But, at this point, with the subject broached at the high table, all ears were paying close attention and I knew that I had to provide some explanation. “I do not wish to dwell upon that issue too much tonight, but I will say that General Niara and I have been drawing up plans to address Quenela that we will present shortly.”

  Seeing that this only created further disgruntlement, I said, “Please, let us drop the matter for the time being, and enjoy the celebration.” At a gesture, one of the several troupes of dancers in the hall began swaying rhythmically, temporarily distracting the emirs and emiras.

  Taking my cue from the entertainers, once their performance was finished and had been applauded enthusiastically, I announced, “Let us begin the dancing! Servants, clear away the tables and musicians, strike a jolly tune!”

  They immediately obliged, strumming their strings to a quick-paced popular dancing tune. Men and women rose, each garbed more finely and glitteringly than the next. The djinn dignitary claimed the first dance, swaying me about with sensuous ease. Then, Kershid and Liem, followed by Idrees and Fyodor. My stomach cramped, but I managed to pass the grimace off as a smile. Breathing heavily after Ferdas had deposited me on my chair, I felt the world wheel around me with drunken unsteadiness. Suddenly, a sticky warmth spread between my thighs. My stomach clenched and unclenched in an agony like no other. My teeth cut deeply into my lip. Panic overwhelmed me. “Ferdas....I must leave...”

  I walked stiffly through the dance floor, fearful to part my legs, and refusing to bend to the pain which threatened to render me prone. I gripped Ferdas’s arm until my knuckles whitened, but I remained upright and calm. No one need know what was happening, although everyone, even the musicians, had halted to watch my procession. I could not even smile reassuringly, but I heard Liem loudly order the musicians to continue their merry music for the queen’s departure. After a few hesitant plucks, notes filled the room. Yet, people were not distracted and I could feel thousands of eyes needling my back as white-hot knives tore through my stomach. Avera, Oelphie, and Kershid, appeared at my side, but, sensing my desire to remain calm, said nothing, until the guards had firmly closed the door behind us.

  Kershid raised a warm hand to my clammy forehead. ”What is the matter?”

  At that moment, I was completely ready to surrender myself to the pain, and be a child in the care of others. “The—babe,” I gasped, between contractions. I should have minded the pains during the day.

  Avera’s fists rose to her mouth in horror, but she announced steadily, “I will fetch a midwife. Take her Majesty to her rooms,” and she sprinted around the corner.

  Leaning heavily against Ferdas, I mewled in agony. Gently and ignoring my incoherent protests, Ferdas swung me into his arms and with a smooth, but quick gait, carried me to my room. Foolishly, I had hoped that once I was lain in bed, the pain would disappear, but it only grew stronger. “No, no,” I moaned. “I need to walk.” But as I walked, the contractions only grew more painful.

  “Selene, we must remove you from this gown,” Oelphie said calmingly. With a quiet, comforting strength she stripped me, leaving me garbed in only my bloody and already sweat-soaked shift. She delicately removed the heavy the earrings and the necklace. “Thank goodness…” I murmured, but I was unable to complete the thought. Peering up, I saw Kershid fidget uncomfortably, but Oelphie went to him and said, “Bring some rushes for the room, so the pretty carpets are not ruined.”

  I would sell every one of them.

  Ferdas, who had disappeared during my disrobing, appeared again, with a towel and water basin. Gently, he bathed my forehead. I squeezed his hand, my nails digging into the tender flesh of his palm.. Although he flinched, his eyes were steady. “You will be fine Selene. You and the baby will be fine.” He repeated the words continuously like a mantra. I could not believe his words.

 
“Gwydion...” I whimpered.

  Vaguely, I heard some mutters, someone sounded displeased, then resigned. Time melted away, froze, and then melted again. A new hand gripped mine, calloused and familiar. I opened my bleary eyes. Green eyes, white lips, and a singsong murmur. “She will have your black hair, but my green eyes. Your skin, but my lips. Our stubbornness,” On and on he continued, painting a description of our daughter, helping me ride the waves of pain, until, finally, Avera swept into the room, accompanied by a middle-aged woman, competent of face and clean of hand.

  After her arrival, the experience melded into a haze of pain, as I crouched on the rushes and felt my insides clawed apart by steel. Kershid, Ferdas, and Avera took turns standing tense vigil outside, while Gwydion and Oelphie remained steadfast at my side. Between flashes of pain, their faces blurred. The sun ascended and set and rose again, before I was fit to discern anything else. I could hear distressed whispers. I wondered if I were to die, like so many other women before me, in childbirth. I was too exhausted and pained to fear death. It seemed like a tempting dream. The air grew heavy with sweat and blood, which even the rushes and open windows could not alleviate. Finally, after days of bloody labor, the midwife murmured, “The child is crowning. Push, your Majesty.”

  With the last of my will, I channeled all of my strength into thrusting the child from womb. After an eternity, she fell, softly, into the midwife’s hand. But the room was eerily silent, unfilled by the squalling of a newborn. The midwife’s back was to me and I saw her pat the child, clean its nose and mouth…loosen the cord around her dainty throat. I reached out to take her from the midwife, but my hands faltered when I saw my daughter, lifeless and blue, the cord wrapped about her neck.

  Collapsing, I shuddered with sobs, as the midwife cleaned her off, and handed her to me.

  “There was no chance, your Majesty,” she said gently. “Not with the child born breeched and the cord wrapped around its neck. It has...probably been so for a while. You are blessed to have emerged from this with your own life. You will need to recuperate your strength and rest…”

  It was not real to me. I saw my daughter, miniature and perfect, with a nose smaller than a clover leaf, in my hands, not breathing. I tried to warm her, rubbing her chest between my hands, filling her little lungs with breath, slapping her bottom as I knew midwives did, but to no avail. Oelphie, Avera, and the midwife watched me with pity. I cradled her and fell into Gwydion’s comforting embrace. Glancing at the midwife, the haze of grief clearing for an instant, I gestured toward the ruby necklace. “It is yours for your services—and your silence. You will not speak of this to anyone else.”

  If she was impressed by the benefice, she gave no sign of it, but curtsied deeply. Offering her condolences, she departed. Oelphie and Avera exited with her, but not before, heedless of their clothes, tightly embracing me. And then, there was only me and Gwydion and my grief.

  I was struck by a thought and hope breathed in my chest once more. Still clutching my girl, I grasped at the necklace the djinn had given me, so few hours before. Fervently, I rubbed it, thinking of the ambassador and suddenly, there he was, a tall dark figure before me.

  “Your Eminence,” I said inclining my head.

  “Your Majesty. How may I be of service?”

  I thrust my daughter before him and said, “My daughter died before birth. I ask that you breathe life into her once more.”

  Every word soaked in sympathy, he replied, “I am afraid that neither I nor my kith have any power over life and death. That rests with a greater power. All I can advise is that you rest. This too shall pass.” Warmly, he grasped my hand, but I could only watch blankly. The room faded into shadow.

  “Leave my presence, sir,” I commanded dully.

  His dark eyes filled with pity. “My condolences, your Majesty.” He disappeared, but, as a parting gift, he lifted the stench from the room, replacing it with the warm scent of cinnamon and cloves and leaving my own body and garb immaculate. It was as if it had never happened.

  His sleeves rolled up from assisting with the birth, Gwydion reached out to me and said softly, “Might I hold her?”

  Gently, I placed the cool, stiff little bundle into his arms. Cradling her, looking intently at his daughter, he asked tightly, “What will you do?”

  I watched him, holding our daughter, and although the world seemed to crumble around me, I felt a resolution sweep through my tired limbs. Falling into bed, I said, “Today, I will sleep. Tomorrow, we will bury our daughter and I will go to Aquia to rest, to recover, to see my family once more before we march to war. Charge Kershid to arrange it quietly and appoint him my steward in Ghalain.” And in that moment, in the face of death, I trusted him to do as I said.

  He set our daughter beside me and stepped out of the room. After a few moments, he reappeared, tenderly kissing my temple and said, “It is taken care of. Kershid will see you in the morning to finalize arrangements, my brave queen.” After a few moments, he asked, “What shall we call her?”

  The question started fresh tears. A name denoted a personality, a future, a life, and she would have none of that now. What would she have been like? Would she have been as wild as I had been, or mild but nonetheless very funny like my youngest sister Gieneve, or a rake like Danyal? I looked at the sweet face wrapped in Gwydion’s strong arms and glimpses of Gieneve flashed in my mind.

  “Evela, after my youngest sister.”

  He curled himself around me and our Evela. I took a long draught of the thick potion the midwife had left at my bedside and soon slipped into sleep.

  PART THREE

  Sunrise

  Chapter Twenty-Six