Questionable Queen

by Nancy S. Brandt

  Felecia and Rebecca both curtsied.

  "I will work with her," Rebecca said, glancing at Felecia.

  "And I will, as well, Your Majesty. I have been serving the royal family all my life. I apologize for offending you."

  "Just remember, both of you, that until the coronation, I am the Queen," Ursula said. "If I find out either of you has been discussing anything about my private life to the other servants, you will be dismissed instantly. Rebecca, I will send you back to Valborough. Is that understood?"

  Both women hastened to assure her they would never violate her privacy.

  "Good." She nodded. "Now, let's get me dressed for dinner."

  Felecia had the grace to blush as she curtsied. "May I say, Your Majesty, I believe our good King Killian, Elements rest him, made an excellent choice in his bride. I'm only sorry you won't get a chance to sit on the throne as Queen now."

  "One never knows what the future hold," Madame Belinda said as she took her place at Ursula's side.

  Undermaids hurried in and gathered garments from the wardrobe as Rebecca and Felecia instructed. Two of the younger maids helped Ursula remove her day dress.

  "That's true, Madame Belinda," Felecia said, smiling. "After all, it is the responsibility of the King's Widow to insure the best choice possible is made to take her husband's place as King. Perhaps Heyton will be in for a surprise."

  Ursula scoffed at the Wardrobe Mistress's words as fresh undergarments were slipped over her head. She intended to see Josiah named King after the funeral, then convince him to release the prisoners.

  Dinner with Josiah and Veronica was as uncomfortable as Ursula had expected. Felecia, Rebecca, and the undermaids had dressed the King's Widow as befitting her position, an act which wasn't missed by the others.

  Veronica's face turned red when Ursula entered the dining room, announced by Terrance.

  "She does not need to be announced like a visiting dignitary," the supposed Queen Mother snapped.

  "Beg pardon, Your Highness, but the King's Widow remains the highest ranking female in the court until the coronation." Madame Belinda clasped and unclasped her hands at her waist as she spoke.

  "You are dismissed, Belinda," Veronica said. "I'm sure we can all have a civilized dinner without you hovering around whispering in Ursula's ear every fifteen seconds."

  "Your Majesty?" the protocol mistress said, looking at Ursula.

  After a moment of wondering if Josiah and Veronica would actually eat her alive if she were alone with them, she nodded to Madame Belinda. "It's fine. I'll call you if I need you."

  "So, it's to be just the three of us?" Ursula asked as she took her seat at one end of the long rectangular dining table. "Seems like a waste of this space." The room was more suited to a dinner party of twenty or more people.

  "I thought it wise for us to get to know each other better," Veronica said. "As much as it strikes me as ridiculous, you are legally the King's Widow, and as such, you have the power to keep my son off the throne. I want to make sure that doesn't happen."

  Ursula took a slow deep breath and picked up her wine glass. Swirling the jewel-toned red liquid, she looked from Josiah to his mother.

  "I assure you I have no plans to keep the rightful heir to the throne from taking his place. However, before any of that can happen, don't we need to see that King Killian, my husband, is given a proper royal funeral? I would like to discuss those arrangements."

  "That is not necessary." Veronica snapped, and the footmen bringing in the first course of the dinner froze in place at the dining room doors. They peeked at Hampton, the King's butler, who spoke to Josiah.

  "Your Majesty, shall we hold dinner?"

  "No, of course not, Hampton," Josiah said. "The Queen Mother was speaking to Queen Ursula, not your men."

  "Thank you, sire." He motioned for the footmen to continue.

  As they served each diner a small bowl of fruit and nuts, Ursula met Veronica's eyes. "Why isn't it necessary to give the King the funeral he deserves?"

  "I'm not talking about that," the older woman said. "What I meant was that you have no need to be involved in the plans. They have all been handled."

  "That's fine, but I would like to know what they are."

  "Don't trouble yourself, Your Majesty." Veronica made the last word sound like it was poisoned. "Someone will tell you where to be and when to be there. Other than that, no one expects you to have much to do with the whole thing. After all, you never even met my brother, the man you supposedly married."

  Ursula lifted a spoonful of the fruit from the bowl and regarded the Grand Princess over the colorful food. "I think it's interesting how you keep using that word. Supposedly. As though, somehow, I am pretending a wedding took place and it was done in secret. My sister, the Queen of Valborough, was there, and Prince Gideon stood in for King Killian. It seems to me the court of the Sapphire Palace was represented."

  Veronica pushed her fruit and nut course around with her spoon for a moment before shoving the entire thing away from her. As she took a sip of wine, her hand trembled and her face was pale under the dusting of powder she wore.

  "Prince Gideon," Veronica said after a moment. She looked at her son, who shook his head and grinned. "He's not truly a Prince, you understand."

  "I beg your pardon," Ursula said, "but isn't he the son of your own sister?"

  "Yes, he is Delthyn's child, but he's lame." Veronica spoke as though that explained everything.

  "Forgive me, but does Heyton have a law that only able-bodied descendants of Kings can be considered royalty?" Ursula's own sister had, at one time, not been truly a Princess because it was believed she had no magical ability.

  "It's not that." Josiah finally spoke up, which made Ursula feel better. She'd begun to think the presumed King of Heyton wouldn't speak without his mother's permission, which might disqualify him from sitting on the throne.

  "Gid is a good guy and all," he said, "but he can't ride a horse or shoot a bow, at least not with any real accuracy."

  "And those things are required to be a Prince?"

  "Not legally," Veronica admitted, not meeting Ursula's eyes. "However, Heyton is a kingdom built on military superiority and a strong defense. Princes are expected to be able to contribute to those things. Gideon just can't."

  "What about Elemental Abilities?" Ursula asked. "He is a strong Water Sensitive. That must count for something."

  Veronica waved her hand as though swatting a fly away. "Water Sensitivities are of little use in a battle situation."

  "I see." Ursula took another sip of her wine as the footmen removed the dishes.

  When they'd served the vegetable course and disappeared into the kitchen again, she said, "All of this was to tell me even though my marriage to King Killian was via proxy with a member of the Heyton royal family, you think you can discredit him. At which point, it will be your word against mine on whether a true wedding took place or not."

  Now Veronica smiled, and Ursula felt a sense of calm wash over the older Princess. She believed she had the upper hand.

  "Don't stand in the way of my son taking the throne of Heyton, and we can all be friends," the older woman said, spearing a chunk of potato with the end of her knife. "Should you choose otherwise, well, I think you'll find life in the Sapphire Palace can be lonely when you don't have an actual position. You might consider heading back to Valborough now."

  Ursula furrowed her brow. "I don't know why you've decided I'm your enemy, but don't underestimate me either. I plan to do my duty to my husband and my new kingdom, and see the rightful heir takes his place. If that is Josiah, you and he have nothing to worry about."

  Chapter 19

  Gideon left his parents' apartment. The rest of the family had gone to bed, but he couldn't sleep. Something felt off to him, and he'd learned to trust those feelings.

  He hated not being able to explain what that something was to anyone else. Being the only Water Sensitive in the family, other than his fa
ther, he had learned early on if it came to his Abilities, he was better off dealing with them alone.

  Even his own father didn't understand how Gideon felt the emotions associated with a place. When he was a child, both his parents assumed he was making up stories about the horror or anger or despair he'd feel when walking into a new room.

  When a child is reprimanded or mocked enough for what other people see as attention-seeking behavior, that child learns to keep his feelings to himself.

  That's why Gideon found himself sneaking through the silent hallways of the Sapphire Palace. His Sensitivity drove him to figure out why he felt as though his insides were upside down and all his organs were in the wrong places.

  He'd felt this kind of thing before, and he knew the only way to fix it was to find out what was causing it in the first place. Fortunately, that meant finding the area where the emotional memory was the strongest, absorbing it, and understanding what had caused it.

  The feelings grew stronger as he walked toward the King's office, the same one he'd gone to just over two weeks ago to receive the mission that brought Ursula here.

  It shouldn't have surprised him that the unsettled emotions were connected to Uncle Killian's death, but these were not the normal feelings associated with sickness and death.

  Gideon stopped walking outside the door to Killian's private apartment. A muddied swirl of feelings bled through the wooden door, and he raised his hand to touch the surface.

  "What are you doing?"

  Dashiell's voice startled him, and he spun around and stumbled, but he caught himself before he could give anyone another reason to laugh at him.

  "What are you doing here?" Gideon kept his voice just above a whisper, even though he knew no one should be in these rooms now.

  "I followed you." Dash clearly didn't see the need for caution as he spoke in a normal tone. The valet leaned against the wall. "I feared you might be sleepwalking and wanted to make sure you didn't hurt yourself."

  "Like I've ever sleepwalked before." The Prince glared at his friend. "You just wanted to know what I was up to."

  "Guilty, but seriously, I was worried about you."

  "No need." Gideon took a step toward the King's office, but voices floated down the hallway, and he stopped.

  "The Queen," Dashiell said. "What is she doing in this part of the palace at this time of night?"

  "Well, this is where her husband died. She has every right."

  "I know that." The valet rolled his eyes at Gideon. "I just meant, she's never been here. Why would she come in the middle of the night?"

  That question was answered a moment later when Ursula, accompanied by Raell, the court physician came around the corner

  "I'm sorry you were having trouble sleeping, but I understand your concern, Your Majesty," Raell said. "However, it isn't unusual for a man like King Killian to consider himself invincible and refuse to take care of himself. I hope that seeing his rooms will put your worries to rest. There is nothing unusual here." The older man started to say more but stopped when he and the Queen noticed they were not alone.

  "Prince Gideon," Raell said. "I didn't know you were here. Having trouble sleeping?"

  "No more than usual," Gideon responded, but he kept his eyes on Ursula. "Good evening, Your Majesty."

  She wore a long deep green robe in some kind of shiny fabric that was tied closed with a matching belt. This couldn't be her night robe, could it? Would she feel comfortable enough already that she'd walk around the palace in something so private?

  Of course, maybe things were more casual in Valborough, and she didn't realize that even though her entire body was covered, what she wore when she stepped out of her bath was inappropriate outside of her apartment. Perhaps he needed to speak to her servants or Madame Belinda.

  After all, more than one royal woman had found herself the subject of unwanted advances by men who didn't know how to behave in the presence of such beauty.

  Then he realized her hands were uncovered. She had left her room without the ubiquitous gloves the high born women of Valborough wore. He had never seen her naked hands before, and he realized he was staring at her fingers.

  Mentally shaking himself, Gideon sighed. All the stress of the last couple of weeks must have gotten to him. This was his Queen and Uncle Killian's Widow, so in truth she was his aunt, and he had no business thinking about how in terms of what she wore or how other men would respond to that.

  She was nothing more than a complication keeping him away from the university and what would be a much simpler life.

  "Good evening, Prince Gideon," Ursula responded. "I see we both are having trouble sleeping tonight. I suppose that makes sense, given all that has happened."

  She spoke to the physician. "Thank you, Sir Raell."

  He bowed. "If you have any more questions about King Killian's health, I will be happy to answer them the best I can."

  "Thank you," she said again.

  They watched as Raell hurried back the way he and Ursula had come. Then she turned to Gideon.

  "What brought you to the King's chambers tonight?"

  "I could ask you the same question, Your Majesty."

  "Yes, but I am his widow, as I seem to have to keep reminding people. It is understandable I might want to see where he spent his last hours."

  "And ask Raell about how he died?" Gideon's words sounded confrontational, even to himself, and he didn't know why her being here should bother him.

  Ursula sighed and her posture softened. "I didn't know him, so maybe everything is just as Raell and Grand Princess Veronica say, but how could he be a strong warrior King if he had a bad heart? Can you explain it to me?"

  Dash grinned and raised his eyebrows, looking at Gideon, who sighed.

  "I can't explain it any more than you can. Until right before I went to Valborough, I was at the university, so I've barely seen Uncle Killian in the last five years."

  Queen Ursula nodded. "Perhaps he had grown weak while you were gone."

  "Perhaps." Gideon didn't believe it, but not just because of the issues she raised. He knew, now, why his Abilities wouldn't let him rest.

  He didn't feel any of the emotions that normally accompanied a serious illness in his uncle's rooms. Pain or fear were common, sometimes worry or even, after a long battle with disability, peace with what was to come.

  This didn't make sense, if what Raell said was true.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, fatigue pulling at him even as his mind and Sensitivities raced in circles.

  Suddenly, he looked at the Queen. "Are you hungry?"

  She blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

  "Look. I know you had dinner with Aunt Veronica and Josiah. That would be enough to keep anyone's appetite in check. I'm sure they were less than welcoming to you."

  For a moment, Ursula said nothing. Probably weighing the best, most diplomatic response. However, before she could say anything, a quiet rumbling from her stomach answered for her.

  She blushed but smiled. "I suppose I could eat something. Should we send for a maid?"

  Gideon shook his head. "Even I wouldn't want to drag someone out of bed at this time of night because I needed a snack. How would you feel about going to the kitchen with Dash and me?"

  To his surprise, her expression changed from one of embarrassment to one of pleasure.

  "I think I would like that."

  Twenty minutes later, Gideon set a bowl of wheat porridge in front of her and stepped back.

  "It smells wonderful," she said, shaking her head. "I know I saw it happen, but I still can't believe you made this."

  "Taste it," Dashiel urged. The valet sat across from her at a high table made of thick wooden planks that were spotless but showed a few nicks and stains from years of use. "It's almost better than what Madame Camille makes."

  "You'd better make sure she never hears you say that," Gideon said, hoisting himself up onto a stool in front of another bowl of the hot, thick porridge. "Remember
. She makes the applemoyse."

  Dashiell shuddered, and pretended to look around lest the cook be nearby. "I suppose it's never a good idea to insult the woman in charge of your food."

  Ursula took a bite. The cinnamon and saffron flavored wheat tickled her tongue, and she had to stifle the urge to close her eyes and sigh with pleasure.

  "Where did you learn to cook like this?" she asked, forcing herself not to shovel another spoonful into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in weeks.

  "The kitchen was one place I could spend time where no one commented on my deficiencies."

  She looked at him. "And other people did?"

  "You've met Aunt Veronica and Josiah," he said. "What do you think?"

  She bit her lip as she remembered what Veronica had said about him not being a real Prince. He met her eyes and nodded.

  "So, you've guessed."

  "I think the people we are closest to can hurt us the most," she said. "But surely, outside the palace, you were treated better."

  He took a spoonful of the porridge and ate it before answering. "At the university, I wasn't the only one who had physical difficulties of one kind or another, so except for a few louts who mocked everyone who was different, no one treated me as though I wasn't a real man."

  She nodded. That made sense since, as far as she knew, universities accepted students from all social classes. However, that wasn't what she'd wanted to know.

  "From what I've seen in the short time I've been here, this palace is full of people who are not members of the royal family." Ursula met his eyes. "Surely, the kitchen staff weren't the only ones to see you as more than your limp."

  Gideon's voice took on an edge of resentment when he responded. "The nobles and the courtiers and the rest of the hangers-on take their cue from the King, or in the case of my grandmother, the Queen. As Queen Verity wasn't happy about my going off to the university, no one in the palace beyond my parents and my sister gave me any encouragement."

  "Hey," Dashiell said. "I have always been on your side."