“The king sleeps,” the captain replied, keeping his features carefully composed. “He’s been very worried,” he added, after too long a pause. “I will hurry to tell him the good news.”
Marie jumped up before the captain had a chance to make it to the door. “Walk me out, Captain?” she requested.
The captain didn’t seem eager to let her leave so soon, but he nodded his assent.
“Don’t go, Grandmère,” I said to her, though I knew she was trying to avoid the king. Surely, he wouldn’t be upset with her for bringing me back to life. Surely, she’d now be able to visit whenever she pleased.
“I must,” Marie replied. “But we’ll see each again, soon. Javotte sleeps in a chair just outside the door, we’ll wake her as we leave.”
It was mere seconds later that Javotte rushed into my room, and without thought for propriety grabbed my hand, kissed it, and raised it to her tear stained face.
“Your Majesty, I was so worried,” she blubbered. “Praise Heaven! What a wonderful day! What a blessed day! I’m so glad. So very, very glad!”
I let her carry on, caring even less about propriety in the face of such concern over my wellbeing. I could have died under Madame’s watch and no one would have noticed. Well, perhaps they would have caught on once their tea hadn’t been served on time, or their baths weren’t drawn. Even then, I wasn’t sure my stepfamily would have bothered to give me a proper burial. They would have either left me to the scavenging animals, or carelessly laid me to rest atop my mother.
Four years at the palace, and I was still getting used to what it felt like to be loved by someone who wasn’t my mother, to be cared for by someone who didn’t share my blood. Only now do I fully understand how my stepmother had beaten me in ways that went far deeper than physical bruising. Thinking on it, I’m certain that’s why I chose to be so blind to reality for so long.
Javotte only pulled herself together once we heard the door click open, followed by the blur of my husband rushing to my bed. He stared down at me, his face a whirlwind of emotions, I thought were shock, relief, and gratitude. As it turned out, I was only right about one of those.
Within minutes, he had climbed onto my bed and pulled my head to his chest where I could hear the strong beating of his heart. I settled in against him, gaining strength from his love. And so we let the morning pass, me resting against him, him holding me tight.
I spent the rest of the day in bed, though Javotte did make me get up briefly a few times, to “get my land legs back under me.” The celebrations for the coronation carried on without me, and I could almost hear the revelry of the assembled guests reverberating through the stone walls. It was only later in the day that I was finally able to convince Javotte to throw open the windows and let the fresh air in.
I had visitors all throughout the day, which would have been tiring, but each friendly face gave me a much-needed boost of energy and determination to get better. First from all was Princess Lyla, who rushed in with pure and untainted joy all over her face. After she left with a promise to later return, Javotte sat some more by my side.
“Don’t you have things to take care of?” I urged her, feeling guilty that she was wasting so much time with me, making small talk, running about the room trying to guess in advance what I might wish for.
“Her Majesty is here, where else would I be?” she asked.
“Somewhere, anywhere,” I replied vaguely.
Javotte clicked her tongue in tune with the clip of her scissors as she continued to dissect more of my unnecessary dresses.
Alexander came by again for a short while in between a hunt and dinner, laughing merrily at the idea that he would not have time to change his clothes and everyone would have to accept it because he was the king. He brought with him a cup of wine, to “toast my good health,” but when he raised it to my lips, my stomach recoiled at the too-familiar smell and I just couldn’t force myself to drink it.
The corners of his mouth tugged downward, but he kept his smile intact, throwing back his own glass of wine with a hearty toast to the future.
It was quiet for a while after he left, then Princess Lyla returned with Queen Alaina and Princess Kiara in tow, all three insisting that, “We’d rather be here, because it’s no fun there without you.”
With them came servants wheeling trays overflowing with food from the banquet downstairs, and though I couldn’t eat much, I enjoyed our dinner together.
After they left, the king came again to bid me goodnight, then Javotte sat with me a while more until I ordered her off to bed. Oddly enough, being sick yielded one of my best days in the palace, if only because it proved to me that I finally had people in my life who cared.
Although my day had been full of visitors, I wasn’t tired, and even felt my strength returning with each passing hour. So it was that late at night, alone and with nothing else to do, I found myself bent over one of the dresses I had insisted in helping Javotte alter, humming the pixie flower tune to myself in rhythm with my needle.
“Surely someone here knows how to do that, Your Majesty,” a deep voice rumbled at me, surprising me enough to jerk the needle out of line.
I looked up to see the captain watching me from the other end of the room. How long had he been standing there?
“Captain, you scared me,” I said unnecessarily.
“I apologize, Your Majesty,” he said. “I only stopped in to see how you were faring.”
“Is this still part of your duty?” I teased, glad to see his face flush a deep red in response.
The captain cleared his throat. “I was hoping, Your Majesty, if it’s not too forward,” he bumbled. “I wanted to visit as a friend,” he finally admitted.
I didn’t hesitate at all. I waved him over to a chair near me, motioning him to sit. “Of course, Cap,” I said easily. “It’s been a while.”
Even with his bold request, the captain hesitated, not sitting until I insisted he take the chair or leave. He sat uneasily, suddenly unsure of what to say or where to look.
I figured it was only right that I help my friend relax. “I used to do this all the time,” I told him, gesturing to the dress in my hands. “There’s something soothing about letting my hands take over. Helps clear the mind.”
The captain shrugged, conceding the point. “I’m sure it will look nice, however you fix it.”
That brought me up short. “How did you know?” I asked.
“It’s my duty to know,” he replied with a smile.
“No, it isn’t,” I insisted.
His smile only grew. “It isn’t,” he agreed. “But from the second day of the celebrations, there’s been something familiar about your wardrobe. You’ve done a good job changing them,” he hastily reassured, “but I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I didn’t notice the finer details. There’s also the matter of Javotte’s sudden ability to overpay a doctor to see after her ailing mother, and her sister’s new apprenticeship.”
“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all of it,” I said, though there was no purpose in denying his knowledge of the truth.
Rather, it seemed I would never be able to hide much from the captain. I would only understand later that it wasn’t because I was careless around him, but because he was extra careful when it came to me.
“I don’t see anything unreasonable about the conclusions I’ve made so far. If anything, it’s important for a queen to think bigger than a princess,” the captain said, and I had to duck my head to hide my pleased expression.
Regaining myself, I looked back over at him. “Tell me, Cap, what’s been going on around the palace while I’ve been confined to my rooms?”
The captain shrugged my question away. “I can’t say you’ve missed anything you haven’t seen before,” he replied.
“I’m glad the festivities could carry on without me,” I joked.
“Not entirely,” the captain replied seriously. “All have been singing your praises and toasting your n
ew crown. The people rejoice at their good fortune and thank Heaven for their new monarchs.”
“Alexander will make a great king,” I agreed.
“You will make a great queen,” the captain fiercely insisted.
“You flatter me,” I said, taken aback by his surety.
“You don’t believe me,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You wrote those notes,” I shrugged in reply, but the gesture said as much as any words could.
Madame and her daughters never missed a chance to remind me of how unremarkable I was. Despite all I’d been blessed with, I didn’t think a crown could change that. Sure, there were things I could do in my position, but there was nothing to distinguish me above anyone else. My mother, for example, would always be the kindest person I ever knew.
The captain frowned and fell silent a moment, so I feared he wouldn’t speak anymore. Then the deep rumble of his voice rose up through his throat as he unfurled one of his stories.
“Once a mother duck found an oddly large egg near her pond,” he began. “She pushed it next to the others in her nest, and when they hatched first, she sat on it still.”
I raised my eyebrows at the captain, unsure if he was serious or not in telling me this child’s tale. But the captain wasn’t looking at me, not exactly.
“Finally, the egg cracked, but something was different. This duckling’s body was covered in darkened scales. His eyes were red, his feet taloned, he hadn’t a bill but a snout.”
“Captain, don’t mock me,” I interrupted as soon as I realized he was talking about a dragon.
The captain blinked at me, recalling his focus from some other place. “My mother used to tell me this story,” he said seriously, “and I thought to share it with you, as a friend.”
He seemed genuine, so I nodded my permission and went back to my work.
“Though the mother duck tried to show the odd duckling much love, it didn’t protect him from the mockery of others. Soon, he grew ashamed of all that made him different.”
As the story unfolded, the captain’s voice deepened. It was warm and comforting, a thick wool blanket for a cold, sleet filled day. I listened closely, the needle idle in my hand.
“Fearing the danger, he posed her ducklings, the mother duck sent him away. The dragon left with a heavy heart, and soon stumbled upon a beaver, gnawing and shouting angrily at a stubborn tree trunk that had fallen over him. The dragon smashed up the trunk with his spiked tail and the beaver escaped. Then promptly dove into a hole.
“‘I only wanted to help,’ the dragon spoke to the ground. ‘On my honor as a duck.’
“A muffled giggle, then the beaver dared raise his furry brown head. He scurried out and stretched to his full height, tall as the dragon’s knees.
“‘No one thinks I can build a dam,’ he confessed. He glanced ruefully at the splintered trunk. ‘It seems they were right.’
“The dragon knew what it was to be teased for not being able to do things like the others.
“‘Do you really believe you can build a dam?’ he asked the beaver.
“The beaver nodded his head fiercely.
“‘I believe it, too, so I will help you,’ the dragon announced.
“‘Only beavers can build dams,’ the beaver replied, ‘but because you freed me and believed in me, I will be there for you if you ever need help.’
“They parted ways, and the dragon walked in the forest until night came. He stopped when he suddenly heard a small cry. He rummaged through the foliage until he saw a small baby robin cowering on a rock.
“‘What worries you, little robin?’ the dragon asked.
“‘I fell out of the tree and hurt my wing,’ the frightened robin told the dragon. ‘I can’t fly and I’m afraid I will be eaten.’
“‘Rest on my back,’ the dragon said. ‘Tomorrow, we will look for your mother.’
“‘Is this a trick?’ the robin asked suspiciously.
“‘No trick,’ the dragon replied. ‘On my honor as a duck.’
“The robin giggled. ‘That’s an odd thing to say.’ But he hopped upon the dragon’s back, and slept in the safety of his wings. The next morning, the dragon helped the little bird find his tree, then lifted him up to his mother.
“‘Thank you, thank you,’ came the chorus of chirps from the robin’s family. ‘If we can ever help you, then you need only call.’
“The dragon went merrily on his way, lost in thought about his new friends and all the things he could do with his silly-looking body. Thusly, he was distracted when a thick net fell on him from above and trapped him to the forest floor. His efforts to get out only entangled him further. He roared and roared, and in his cries were a call to the beaver and a call to the robins. It wasn’t very long before they came to him.
“The beaver immediately gnawed the rope that kept the dragon pinned to the ground. Then the robins took the ends in their feet and flew upward, lifting it off the dragon.
“‘Thank you for saving me,’ the dragon said to each of his friends.
“‘Why didn’t you use your fire to burn through the rope?’ the beaver wanted to know.
“‘Why didn’t you use your wings to lift up from under the net?’ asked the robins.
“‘Because my fire is too dangerous to breathe, and my wings are too long. It is why I am such an ugly duckling,’ the dragon explained.
“The beaver started to laugh. ‘You’re not an ugly duckling!’ he called.
“‘You’re a dragon!’ the robins exclaimed.
“The beaver took the dragon to the river, where he showed him the reflection he had avoided looking at most of his life. Once the dragon understood that he was not a duck, he didn’t seem so ugly after all. Heartened, he stretched out his long black wings and took off into the sky, rising higher and higher, straight through the clouds. Up there, he saw the biggest surprise of all, a whole flock of dragons just like him!
“Finally, he found his place, and he was happy.”
The captain’s voice faded out and the room fell silent save for the low crackle of the fire. I finally looked up and noticed him studying me, his dark brown eyes searching for something. It was only after he left that I understood what he wanted me to know but couldn’t properly say.
The captain never saw me as a Cinderwench. Being queen was something he always believed I could be, and what’s more than that, he believed I could be a good queen. He was reminding me that I can see hunger and suffering in others, because I have known it myself. I care about the sick, because I have known loss. I could be generous with my kindness and compassion, even though it was scarcely afforded me. I was in my rightful place at the palace.
But what about all those other things? Did I have the fiery heart of a dragon? Wings large enough to soar above the clouds?
He seemed to think so.
He seemed to think that those, among other things, would give me strength enough to raise up others beside me.
But I didn’t understand that until later. At the time, however loath I was to break the spell the captain’s voice had woven, I raised my still full glass of wine to him. “A toast to your story, Cap,” I said. “Though forgive me for not drinking, for I don’t think I can stomach this right now.”
The captain gently took the glass from my hand. “It would be a shame to let a good toast go to waste,” he said. He took a brief sip, then his face curdled and he spat the wine back into the cup.
“You don’t taste cherries either?” I giggled, feeling strangely validated that the captain had done to the wine what I’d so often wanted to do.
“What is this?” the captain asked, furiously wiping the back of his mouth with his hand.
“Wine,” I replied.
“This isn’t wine,” the captain countered.
“Of course it is,” I retorted. “It’s a bottle from the year the king’s parents were married.”
“His parents were married,” the captain echoed distantly. He shook his head defin
itively. “His Majesty would never drink anything that tasted like this.”
I shrugged. “He brought it here himself, and drank a glass here himself. He says it tastes like cherries, but I think it too bitter and over spiced.”
A flurry of conflicting thoughts warred across the captain’s face. “Like cherries?” he repeated slowly. Suddenly, he snapped to attention and his eyes narrowed at the cup. He picked it up and sniffed suspiciously. “Was this cup by your side the entire day, Your Majesty?” he demanded to know.
“No,” I replied, “My husband brought it, I couldn’t drink it, so it was left here.”
“And there were a number of visitors here today?” the captain thundered, holding court as if he were judge, jury, and executioner.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“So any number of people could have touched this cup from when it was brought until now!” he concluded triumphantly.
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“But can you be sure, Your Majesty?”
I nodded. “The first time His Majesty brought me this vintage was the night of the coronation. It tasted bitter then, too. He always brings wine with him, though none nearly as bitter as this.”
This brought the captain up short. He looked dumbfounded, then upset. Though he was careful to keep his face impassive, it was obvious that his mind was whirring.
“Cap? Captain?” I asked tentatively, when the silence had gone on too long.
He snapped his attention back to me. “Are you all right?” he sighed. “I hope I didn’t upset you.”
“Not at all,” I waved away his apology, “though I would like to know what that was all about.”
The captain nodded his head. “You shall soon enough, Your Majesty.”
Then he walked over to my night table and took the cup beside the pitcher of water. He poured over some wine from the glass, then strode purposefully over to the fireplace where he poured out the wine, before dashing the actual glass against the inner bricks and leaving the pieces to burn. There was a flash of green when the wine hit the fire, so quick it was easy to doubt if it had really been there at all.
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