by Janeal Falor
I huff and move to the bedroom. The guard doesn't follow. Smart man. I kick off my shoes and climb on the high bed. Once I'm situated and certain my skirts maintain my modesty do I call him in. Not that I care, but I find myself wanting to make an impression on the only person who’s spoken to me like I'm real.
He enters, showing no hint of discomfort at being called into the queen's very own bedroom.
“Sit,” I say.
To my astonishment, he leaves the room. I'm befuddled until he walks back in with one of those horrid chairs.
“You're not going to sit in that, are you?” I scowl.
He lifts an eyebrow, places the chair directly across from me, and sits.
“Well, well, well… you've certainly proven you don't care for comfort.”
“I care for propriety.”
I can't help myself. “And yet, here you are, in my bedroom.”
“Only because you care for comfort.”
Huh. “Tell me about how things work here.”
“That's a lot to cover.”
“It's what I need to know.” I pause and then add, “From someone other than Ranen.”
“What? You don't like him?”
I snort.
“That's very queenly of you,” he says.
“I try.” I attempt not to squirm. “Now, what do I need to know?”
Chapter 7
“What have you learned this far?” Nash asks, sitting closer to the door than to me.
My face heats. I turn toward my window so he won't notice. “Um… nothing.”
The room fills with silence.
“They haven't taught you anything yet?” He sighs.
“Well, they tried, but I wasn't paying attention.” The admission costs me more than I want to admit. Could it be that I care what he thinks of me even more than I thought? I can't imagine why.
“Are you sure you want me to be the one to teach you? There are people who know the protocols better than me.”
I shrug, turning to face him again. “Protocol doesn't concern me. I want something useful. Tell me—what do you know of the secret tunnels in this place?”
“You're going to have to learn it one way or another. It can't be ignored.”
“And you can't ignore my question. Secret tunnels?”
He shakes his head before moving closer. “Those exist, but I know of only the well-used one the guards use to get from place to place or to intercept threats to those living here.”
“Are there threats often?”
He gives me a level glance. “You've already been threatened. It will continue to happen.”
So much for knowing who was behind the assassination attempt. If such attempts are frequent, it's a matter of time before another happens. I must figure out if I want to live before the next one. This way, I'll be prepared to choose—death or fighting.
“Why are there so many threats?” I suspect several things. Mostly people who either want to be queen or want the queen as their puppet.
Though spoken with care, his words confirm this. “You have a highly sought position. All it takes for it to be open again is your demise.”
“Do you know who sent the man that's now in the dungeons after me?”
“I regret to say I do not. Isn't Lord Ranen trying to find out?”
I shrug. “He said he would, but I haven’t heard any word on it. Doubt that he’s trying very hard, but it’s possible.”
“I can ask around—see what the guards know. But don't be surprised if I come back with nothing.”
That's generous of him. More so than I'd expect. “Let me know if you discover anything.” Apparently, I still care about my life.
“I will.”
I contemplate asking for the secret tunnel he’s familiar with, but it’s of no use to me if it’s frequented often. What else do I need to know? I'm somewhat familiar with parts of the palace, but it's so huge, it's difficult to perceive it all. I got lost in it moments ago. “Can you draw me a map of this place?” I ask.
“I can do one better. I'll ask a servant to bring us the plans we have. They aren't comprehensive, but they are a good place to start.”
“How does a guard learn about these plans?”
“I studied them in an effort to understand the best ways to move around. I serve the queen and therefore need to know about the things surrounding her that concern her possible safety.” He stands. “If you'll excuse me, I'll send for them.”
He leaves and closes the door behind him.
I focus on the window. It's like the one back at Daros's. A nice view, but so small it highlights my captivity. Because I feel like a captive, even as the queen. Like the last one, this window too is barely large enough for me to climb out of, which will come in handy.
The door opens, and Nash resumes his seat. “It will be here as soon as they can fetch it.”
And in the meantime, what? It's not the first time I've encountered silence. Daros used it to great effect. It had a better result when I was younger, though. Now I'm accustomed to it.
Nash apparently doesn't feel the same way. “What else would you like to learn about?”
I purse my lips and tap a finger to them. “What do you know of the other guards?”
“Some are loyal to the crown. Some are loyal to one person or another.”
“Which group do you belong to?” Not that I expect an honest answer.
“The crown, though I know it's hard to believe. My parents raised me right. Taught me honor and respect. My loyalty is now meant for you.”
His words stir something to life. What, I can't be sure. “It's true, I have a hard time believing it, but I hope you prove me wrong. Which guards can be trusted?”
“Afet, Stird, and Wilric are all loyal. I'd stake my life on it. Eldim may or may not be. It's hard to tell with him.”
So few? I can't be surprised with what I know, but it remains a bit of a shock. “How do you know they're loyal?”
“They almost gave their lives for the last queen,” he says. “A man broke into the palace. It happens on occasion. Be prepared for it. He was wielding a sword and hacking at anyone who got in his way. Afet, Stird, and Wilric ran toward him when he neared the queen, while the rest ran away. All three sustained injuries but have since recovered. The last queen gave them gold as a reward, but they remained here, doing their duty.”
That’s compelling. “You believe that loyalty extends to me?”
“I do.”
“And Eldim?”
“He has a habit of not listening to those who would sway him away from the crown, but I haven’t seen him do anything to defend the queen to a degree that would imply absolute loyalty.”
That's something to think about.
A knock on the sitting room door draws my attention.
Nash answers it. After a moment, he comes back in the room with several large papers in hand. “These are the maps of the palace.”
“There are so many.” I don't know what I expected, but not this. The print is tiny and the paper so gigantic, it’s hard to imagine anything being of that size.
“The palace has been added onto over the years. Many rulers wanted to make it bigger. Give of herself to the building, in some way.”
He moves to the side of the bed, and I follow.
He spreads the papers across the mattress. “The palace, for your perusal. I imagine it will take weeks before it's committed to your memory, but this here”—he points to a few squares halfway down the page and to the right—“are your rooms. If you start here and work outward, you'll get it in time.” He draws a line toward a large rectangle. “This room is where the Mortum Tura is taken.” He moves to a slightly smaller rectangle, not far off. “And this is where most of your interactions will take place. The government uses this room most often. The other pages are different floors of the palace, should you need to use one of the upper rooms.”
“More rooms than anyone needs, just on this one floor.”
; “Rightly so, but they are here all the same. Do you think you'll have a problem transferring the map to the real world?”
“None.” He'll be surprised by how quickly I pick things up. I'm a fast learner.
We pore over the map. Despite this, it feels like there's so much I need to know, yet so little I care about.
When I let out a yawn, I know it's past usefulness’s time. “You will come back in the morning and tell me more.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You're promoted to Head”—I wave my hand around like a dunce—“Whatever.”
“Head Whatever. Everyone will look up to me.”
My lips twitch. “What position would you suggest?”
“I don't need a position to help you, but you will have to release me from the army. While I can protect you when I’m here, I also hold duties that are beyond you.”
“I want you to have a position anyway. Ranen is the Head Advisor. That's your new title.”
“I'm just a simple guard.”
“Not anymore.”
He stands, getting out of that chair that has to be really uncomfortable. “At least I can offer you protection while I'm at your side.”
“I don't need protection.”
“That much is evident from what I heard about you taking down the would-be assassin. Still, it doesn’t hurt to have someone else watching your back.”
I wonder what that would be like—to have someone I can truly trust help keep me safe. It's not something I can fathom. Besides, no matter what Nash says, there's no way I can trust him. There's no one I can trust, except myself.
Chapter 8
Despite being tired, I can't sleep. It's just as well; nightmares are not welcome. Images of things I've done come back to haunt me with glaring cruelty when I sleep. Blood, daggers, poison—it's all there, always waiting for me to try to rest so they can torment me.
I wish there were pants in my new drawers besides a whole lot of nothing. The ones I wore when I came in have disappeared. Not caring about the material of the outfit I’m wearing, I strip down to the flimsy dress I had on earlier.
When it's all I have on, I pull out a blade and cut off the skirt just above the knees. The material drops to the carpet. I slice the sides of the skirt for maneuverability. Once ready, I slip to my window. The white wall outside that goes around the entire palace grounds is teaming with soldiers. They're all facing outward, though. No one is looking toward my rooms. They probably think the outside wall of the palace is unscaleable, but there are enough juts in the stone to make it work. I sneak out my window and scurry up the wall.
I pass by several windows, one of which has a light in. I peek inside to find Ranen, drinking and writing something down. I wonder what notes he's making, but I don't stick around to find out. The rest of the rooms are empty or their occupants have gone to bed.
I keep climbing until I get to the roof, where I begin wandering around. It's a familiar movement, even if this roof is huger. I used to escape to the roof after a beating from Daros. Well, one of his men he hired out. He wouldn't dirty his hands with a beating. He would do other things, though. Torture me with hot oil or shove me underwater until I thought I was going to die. Choking was one of his favorite things to do to me.
The memories are too strong. They have me curling into a ball with only my eyes sticking out over my knees. My stomach roils. It's true he wouldn't torture me often during the last few years. Had to keep me in my prime, he said. But that didn't mean it never happened anymore. It was at least a weekly occurrence. I couldn’t ever seem to behave as he wanted me to.
I'm trembling, and not from the cold. I hold myself together more tightly, trying to force away the thoughts. Evil exists and isn’t hard to find at all. Everyone seems to be full of it. No one ever had a problem beating me for Daros. No one offered true care or sympathy.
Not until I saw her eyes.
I force several blinks as tears come, and I think on something else. I was trained to do one thing I didn’t want to do. Why did I have to be abandoned by my parents? Why did Daros have to be the one to take me in?
I never understood. Never will.
I drag my gaze across the landscape before me, hoping to find release from my thoughts. From the roof, the city of Indell looks almost alive. The capitol rarely sleeps. Lights flicker like twinkling stars, as far as I can see. The city goes on and on. How am I over not only this city but a whole country? I don't know, but it's beautiful.
But beauty is ice, crystalline at first but melting easily.
Three of the five moons shine down on me, the red-tinted one in the middle and the white ones on each side. They seem to know something I don't. I'm sure they've seen more of this country than I ever will. What's more, they’ve seen foreign lands. How different would my life be if my parents abandoned me in another country, away from Daros?
Did any previous queens find themselves up here, staring down at the country they ruled? If they did, I bet they didn't get here by climbing.
I wish I had the chance to talk to one of them, so they could give me some idea what to expect. Words from a woman who actually ruled, not a pompous guy who believes he should be ruling instead.
How am I supposed to do this job? Even with Nash's help, it’s like I'm lost in the mountains, surrounded by carnivorous animals. It’s not been a full day yet. This is ridiculous and impossible. Why did I have to pick a way to die that would lead to more trouble than I've ever had?
Do I want my life? I don't think I do, but things feel different now. I'm not sure how, but the gnawing ache inside my chest isn't as painful.
I scout out the roof until I'm bone weary. I'll explore farther tomorrow. For now, I climb back down to my room, change into a nightdress, and plop onto the bed.
Even if sleep is long in coming, I'm done thinking on things I can do nothing about. I clear my mind and wait for morning.
Chapter 9
As I lie in bed with my eyes closed, the night flickers with images I can't quite place. I try to bring one into focus, but it stays blurry and far gone. I push and pull at it, doing whatever I can to make it come closer. To see what or who is invading my dreams.
But nothing happens.
I sit up, leaning against my headboard, ready to wait it out until morning. It shouldn't be long now, and at least it's not a nightmare. Just a fuzz of something I should know, but I can't put my finger on it.
As soon as I stop tugging, the image straightens out. It looks like a woman… Yes, it is a woman. I can't tell if she's Kurah or Poruah class. She's not fat, but she's not all bones either. Her hair is long and blonde, her eyes a vivid green. Her dress matches her eyes and waves like there is wind, but I feel none. A large emerald necklace sits just below her collarbone.
She smiles, and the feel of it makes me want to cry. To put my head on her shoulder and tell her my problems.
But I don't.
I back away.
People like this can’t be trusted.
“Aren't we a shy one?” she says, her voice a smooth alto.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“You already sound like a queen.”
I lift my chin, though all I want is to get away from this woman who seems to see into my soul.
“My… You're much different from your predecessors.”
“You know about the other queens?” What am I saying? This is only a dream.
“I know about them all.”
Sure she does. She knows as much as I do because she's a figment of my brain made excruciatingly real.
“I'm sorry about the nightmares,” she says.
My imagination is sorry. How cute. It's much better than the nightmares themselves, though.
“You don't have to pretend to be strong around me.”
“Who said anything about pretending?” I counter.
“You didn't have to say anything at all.” She reaches toward me, but I jerk away.
“Don't touch me,” I say.
>
“If it's a dream, why do you care?”
I feel for my daggers, but they aren't here. None of my weapons are. They’re the one thing I can always count on in my dreams, and now they're gone.
“It doesn't matter,” she says. “There's not much time left. I need you to know something.”
I eye her, not trusting a thing that comes out of her mouth, even if she's my imagination. No one is to be trusted. “What?”
“I care about you. I'm sorry you wished to die, but I'm glad you didn't. I need you here. Please, fall asleep so you can come back to visit me tomorrow night.” Her words roll off me.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
She ignores me. “It's good that you protected yourself when you were attacked. Keep that instinct. Keep it.”
She fades back into fuzz. This time, I push the image away.
Chapter 10
First thing the next morning, I'm fitted for new clothes. I stand in nothing but my underthings in the bedroom.
“Tut-tut,” the seamstress says as she measures me. “Too skinny.”
But it's muscle. I'm fast. I'm strong.
I'm not like anyone else here. I won’t belong.
When the seamstress is done, half a dozen of my maids help me get ready for the day. I want to go back to bed. The process of getting ready is exhausting and too extensive. Of course, after my weird dream, I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s better than the terrors of blood and pain that rule my nightmares.
Clothing item after clothing item is buttoned and tied and corseted on—more than I've ever worn before at one time. Layers of jewels, hair, and makeup are added. It's too much. Nothing at all like who I am, but I let them for now. I'm tired of arguing, and they've been fairly strict about this. It's funny how pushy these women can be. It reminds me of Daros, but I don't want to think on him as they finish getting me ready.