“Your Majesty,” Angst interrupted the queen.
The Captain Guard looked up, his eyes pleading for Angst to stop, and a hush fell over the courtyard. Nobody interrupted the queen. It was as though the water stopped flowing from the fountain, leaves stopped rustling in the gentle wind, and the entire kingdom became momentarily quiet to hear the words important enough to interrupt the queen.
“Please, Your Majesty, Tori did nothing wrong.” His intention was noble, for he didn’t want the princess to be in trouble simply because he was a flirt, but the words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. How on Ehrde would he know to call her ‘Tori’ if he’d just run in to save her life?
Victoria shut her eyes slowly, defeated by the gaffe.
The queen’s anger was calm, and dangerous. “Tori? Yes, of course. Tori. I see.” She breathed deeply to regain control. “Victoria, you should know better than to even speak to those inflicted with the magics, much less to find a man here and not report him, especially one so dangerous! We will discuss this later in great detail.” She turned to Angst and stabbed a finger in his face. “I will say this, Mr. Angst. If I ever catch you in this courtyard again, if I ever see you speaking with the royal princess again, you will be banished and hunted and killed. In that order. Do I make myself clear?”
Angst was stunned, but his anger seeped through. His cheeks burned red, and he really wanted to share a few of his sharper thoughts. Inflicted? Dangerous? Victoria gave him a hand signal that screamed “no,” and so he stopped himself, bowed, and said simply, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You may leave, Angst,” the queen spat out his name again.
He bowed once again, walked to the broken flower, picked up the pieces, focused for a moment, and then handed Tori the repaired marble rose.
She smiled.
“It’s been an honor to serve Your Majesty,” he said to the princess, bowing respectfully. He turned sharply on his heel, and left the comedy of errors.
After the queen’s command, the courtyard became their meeting place. Who would ever consider looking for them there? The princess had initiated the meetings by sending him polite invitations at first. He thought she was crazy, but when she returned the rose, he felt obliged to see her. The first visit led to several, and several became many. Often he found her in tears, or shrouded in a cloud of anger, and so he went to listen, and to support. She would ask him questions about magic, and ask him to make things. “To practice without destroying the castle,” was her excuse. Sometimes he’d even get a chance to complain, though rarely about her mother. Oddly enough, they became friends.
Angst enjoyed their friendship, but visits also meant an equal measure of fear and excitement. And lately, something else. A growing awkwardness. Tori was becoming Victoria. Her full lips had remained full, her hair had remained long, but her body had grown into its own respectable shape. She never appeared to notice these changes, from what Angst could tell, and he tried to do the same. He teased, and flirted on occasion to cause trouble, and she would laugh or smile or pretend to be shocked. But lately she had taken to standing very, very close when they spoke. She pretended it was for secrecy’s sake, but he had to wonder why their meetings suddenly required that.
The princess smiled and grabbed his hand with both of hers. “I just found out, I get to go to your party.”
Angst smiled, too. “I will be honored by Her Majesty’s presence.” He stepped back, gracefully removing his hand from hers, and bowed dramatically.
She ignored his teasing and took a half-step toward him. “I’ve been asking for weeks. Mother kept saying no, but Tyrell told her he would assign personal guards, and she finally agreed.” He was certain she hadn’t taken a breath. “This is my first party, and I may even get to drink wine. I’m not sure what I’ll wear—”
“You’ll have to be careful with that dangerous combination. A fancy dress and some wine, and you’ll need those personal guards to fight off the boys.”
She giggled. He’d rarely seen her this excited. “I have no interest in boys.”
“Um, have you told the queen about this? It could be a problem for future heirs.”
She laughed and gently hit his arm. “I hear you’re giving the first toast. I also heard mother say she hopes you do awful.”
“Well,” Angst said, a bit defensive, “I’ll strive to disappoint.”
4
If it’s possible to sprint in a small three-room cottage, he did so. From room to room, Angst scrambled. Every bit of the house not attached to the floor and light enough to lift was moved for a third time. He, again, grabbed a stack of papers, sat at the old dining table, and rummaged through it.
“How could I possibly have misplaced it? I had it a second ago,” he said a bit louder than necessary. He looked up to Heather for an answer, only to notice stern eyes under a severe frown. Angst’s shoulders dropped. Her expression meant trouble. He had lost his toast, and had snapped at her while looking for it, several times, unintentionally pushing her to that quiet place between anger and pain. It was a toss-up whether or not she’d start yelling or break down in tears.
“Heather, I’m sorry. This is just so important, and we’re running later than usual.” His shoulders slumped a bit more, and he again looked through various bits of parchment that should’ve been thrown away long ago. Not there either. “This is the last random stack of papers I can find.”
Angst leaned his head on his forearm, which rested flat on the table. He took a deep breath, and let out a long frustrated sigh. As his clothes shifted, he heard the quietest sound of paper crumpling. He patted his tunic, and trousers and cape to find his speech neatly tucked in a cape pocket.
“Oh, good, you found it,” Heather said, in a polite and calm ‘I’m going to beat you later’ tone.
Angst stood, ran his fingers through his graying hair, and attempted to straighten out the now-bedraggled dress clothes. “I really am sorry. I must be getting old.”
Heather raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
This is going to be a fun evening, Angst thought sarcastically then stepped forward, opened the door, and forced a smile. “Shall we?”
Heather still glared a bit, but was obviously relieved that the great panic was over. She followed his lead through the door to the cobblestone walk.
The party was an annual fall event held in honor of the bureaucracy that supported the crown. Almost everyone was invited—from the town crier to the local librarian. Often, several knights would appear in dress armor to pass along thanks to those who helped the cause. Dignitaries or visiting officials would attend to show support as well as pick up a few tidbits of gossip from those who worked at the castle. It could be fun, when he was able to sit with his closest friends, but more often, this event was a place to feel claustrophobic, eat bad food, and make small talk with people whose company he couldn’t stand. Attendance was not optional.
Under normal circumstances, Angst could arrive fashionably late, and leave early with a “sick wife” or “busy day tomorrow.” For some reason, he’d been asked—ordered, actually—to toast the “success and progress” they’d enjoyed this year. The toast was to be quick, to the point, and would mark the official start of festivities. Somehow, he was certain that being forced to give this short speech was yet another punishment. Either the queen had learned of his apathy for the event, or some unknown arch-nemesis had submitted his name with the devious plan of making him the fool.
They were late. At a normal pace, he could meander along the cobblestones for fifteen or twenty minutes before arriving at the castle, but they had ten. They rushed, further upsetting Heather, and making Angst sweat. After twelve minutes at an uncomfortable pace in awkward dress clothes, they could hear the low murmur of party conversation.
The entrance of the courtyard hosting the party was impressive. Four guards in full dress armor stood on each side of the stone walkway. Lamplight reflected off their breastplates, creating a gentle glow. Beyond the
guards, thirty tables were filled with people talking to, or avoiding, those around them. Serving girls wandered, topping off glasses of wine or mead. A small quartet of singers entertained one corner of the party, while a jester juggled for the opposite corner.
Important people sat high on a platform before the courtyard, with the queen at the head of the table, Princess Victoria on her left, and the Captain Guard on her right. A general and several high-ranking cabinet officials filled out most of the remaining seats. After a brief overview of the scene, Angst was absolutely confident they were the last to arrive. He purposefully avoided making eye contact with anyone considered royalty, grabbed his wife’s hand and weaved through tables to find friends.
Just as they arrived at a table of familiar smiles, a knight approached and placed a hand on Angst’s shoulder, a bit more heavily than necessary. “Your seat is already reserved. Please follow me.”
Though he obviously took no joy in ushering Angst and Heather, the knight led them to the head table. Heather looked at Angst, who shrugged, surprised to find himself looking at two seats at the end of the long table.
The knight held out a chair for Heather, but before Angst could sit, said, “The queen would like to speak with you.”
Heather squeezed his hand in support then Angst followed the knight, feeling a bit ill in his stomach. They stopped before the queen and the princess, who both seemed somewhat perturbed but said nothing. The queen was covered in gaudy, with enough gem-encrusted red velvet to drape every room in the castle. The princess was stunning, her frustration replaced with a blush as Angst stared a little longer than he should have. She wore a fitted purple satin dress probably cut a bit lower than her mother had wished. An almost conservative diamond tiara sat atop her long black hair, which had been curled for the occasion, falling in layers across her shoulders and back.
“You are late, Mr. Angst,” said the queen in her high-pitched voice, spitting out his name as though she had corn in her teeth.
“Your Majesties.” Angst looked from princess to queen. He bowed slowly, mustering up all his formality. “May I be so bold to say that you and your daughter look absolutely stunning?”
One corner of the queen’s mouth made the barest of twitches. She held out her signet ring. “You may be so bold, Angst, but only tonight.”
Angst briefly kissed the queen’s ring then turned to the princess. Victoria held out hers as well, but Angst missed, kissing her hand instead. He looked up quickly and winked with the eye furthest from where the queen sat.
The queen coughed, and Angst stood to face her. “If you are ready, let’s get this over with,” she said warily.
Rose, working at the event as a server, conveniently arrived just then and handed him a goblet of mead. She leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t screw up.”
Rose topped off the princess’s wine glass, bumping her hand in the process. They stared at each other for the briefest of moments. The princess looked Rose up and down in that scrutinizing way only women can manage. Rose nodded at her with painful respect then left to watch Angst from a distance.
Angst smirked, raised his goblet, and said very loudly, “Friends.”
The courtyard slowly became quiet as he held his goblet high, desperately hoping not to spill anything on the queen. He winked at Heather, looked at the nearby table of friends, and braved a glance at the royal princess.
Without looking at the speech in his pocket, he began, “Friends and family, I would like to toast. Every day, we are faced with challenge, and work, and unfairness, and life.” He paused, looking around at nodding heads. “Whatever it is you strive for, whether it be something better, or something more, on rare occasions, you’ll get to enjoy brief moments that remind you what all your efforts are for. That moment may be as simple as a sunset, or as complicated as giving a speech in front of the queen herself.” Everyone chuckled, and Angst nodded politely to Her Majesty. “We have to recognize those moments, and be grateful for them, because they are so very rare. Tonight is for you. It is one of those moments in which we are all thanked for our good efforts. To you, I raise my glass in toast.” He turned to the queen, “and to you, Your Majesty, for your kindness and generosity in this recognition.”
The queen nodded, and everyone drank. Some applauded politely. Tarness yelled, “Does this mean it’s finally time to eat?”
“Let the festivities begin,” Angst declared.
This was followed by more cheers. Angst bowed once again to the queen and princess, who appeared pleased with his toast. He walked over to sit with Heather.
She kissed his cheek and whispered, “I’m so proud of you, and you didn’t even need your notes.”
“Thank you. May I throw up now?” he asked, a thin smile across his face.
She laughed. He didn’t.
The evening was filled with food and drinks, performers and contests. Dinner was served in eight courses, and between each course there was entertainment. The first round came from a bard who sang a humorous song about a princess who’d lost her prince to a spell. He was forever to be a duck until she kissed him, so she spent her life traveling the countryside kissing ducks. After the song, they were served duck and laughed at the “coincidence.”
Shortly after that course, a small troupe of five acrobats flipped and jumped and rolled into an opening between the tables. Four came from each corner of the courtyard, and the fifth flipped over the princess at the head table, causing her to yelp. She looked down the table at Angst, blushing, which made him smile.
Between the fourth and fifth course, the crowd enjoyed a contest. The centerpiece of the courtyard featured a gigantic decorative broadsword resting on a marble stand. The metal blade of the sword was just shy of five feet in length, and two feet wide across the flat. This statue was a monument to another time, even the words etched into the marble were in a lost language. It weighed...well, it weighed as much as the world, for it had been commonly decided that the old statue was anchored to its marble base.
The challenge, of course, was to lift the sword and become a knight. Every new employee was pressured to try, as a sort of hazing ritual. Of course, there were also the stubborn few not willing to believe it was a joke who continued to try year after year as though it were some lottery. The contest was the cause of much laughter, and for those unknowing suspects, a bit of disappointment.
Before the dessert course, a children’s choir stood at the back, singing several songs and finishing with Unsel’s anthem. Heather and Angst had been unable to have children, and she held his hand tight as they stood for the anthem. Children singing so beautifully and, Angst suspected, a little wine, made Heather emotional. Fortunately, a chocolate soufflé cured her ails.
At the official end of the evening, the queen and most of her court would leave so the festivities could continue in a less supervised fashion. The princess, who’d apparently been allowed some wine, wanted to stay, but the queen was stern and made her walk in front so she couldn’t sneak off.
As they passed Angst and Heather, Tori leaned forward. “Goodnight, Angst.”
The queen actually grunted at this un-princess-like behavior, and Angst couldn’t help but smirk.
Heather squinted at him with an admonishing wife look.
“What? Obviously the young princess can’t handle a little mead. Youth, you know?” He feigned complete innocence.
Shortly after the royal departure, Heather and Angst stepped away from the head table and joined their friends.
“You are such a kiss ass,” said Hector rather loudly.
Dallow stood, bowed low, and kissed Heather’s hand, much as Angst had done with the princess, ending with a loud smack of the lips.
Angst’s cheeks went very red.
Heather fluttered her eyelashes quickly and looked at Dallow with overdramatic appreciation. “Why, whatever would my mother think?”
Everyone at the table laughed. Well, everyone but Angst.
He looked around the grounds, t
rying not to encourage his friends’ performances. Several tables over, Rose poured more wine into a knight’s goblet. The knight was being a bit grabby and pulled her down to whisper in her ear. She slammed the pitcher on their table and stomped off toward Angst.
“You okay?” he asked when she arrived. “Who is that? Sir Ivan?”
“Yes. He’s just being a pig.” She sat next to Heather, who leaned toward Rose and whispered in her ear. “Angst, I was wondering. Did the queen threaten to arrest you for making out with the princess’s hand?”
This was cause for more laughter, and the only person who seemed even a little sympathetic was Wilfred the Short. His more official title was Wilfred the Wise, but most of Angst’s friends didn’t like him nearly as much as Angst did. Being ‘Wise’ also tended to mean you were a know-it-all, so he was redubbed ‘the Short.’ This wasn’t so bad, since Angst was the same height, if not as round as Wilfred, and he really preferred that someone, anyone, else have that title.
Rose sighed and shook her head as someone waved her over. “Back to work. Save me some mead.”
The harassment at Angst’s expense continued for a short while before Hector began telling stories. Angst’s gaze drifted from Hector, and he watched the crowd thin. Rose waved at friends who were leaving then wandered around cleaning tables. She was near the center of the courtyard, clearing off a table, when Ivan approached her with several cronies in tow. Standing next to her, he was enormous, a menacing sight in his full plate. Angst looked over at his friends, who were lost in conversation. He tried interrupting but couldn’t seem to get anyone’s attention.
The knight’s back was to Angst, but he could see Rose and she was obviously offended by what he was saying. She tried to walk around him but the cronies blocked the path and she was forced to back away toward the nearby sword statue. Ivan towered over her, his armor making him appear almost as large as Tarness. She finally lost her temper and yelled at him. He laughed and stepped close then reached around and squeezed her ass. She spat in his face before taking a pitcher of mead and pouring it over his head.
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