by Nathan Roden
“And the minstrels will sing, ‘Good King Simon had an optimistic mind. ‘Til the day they chopped off his head and shoved it up his behind!”
Simon turned aside quickly and a small tree burst into flame.
Helena jumped backward.
“I never! I cannot believe that I have thrown in my lot with the likes of you!”
Boone set off through the woods. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.
“I’m off to find a horse,” he said to Simon. “She’s all yours.
Forty-Six
Jaclyn climbed out of bed early, feeling happier than she had in years. She stretched her arms and yawned and began to hum. And then she stopped.
It will not serve me well to display such a quick change of mood. I must make any change gradually, and—
Jaclyn leaped for the chamber pot and vomited.
Three retches later, a girl appeared in the doorway. She was pretty, but not as lovely as Helena. Jaclyn could smell the air of fear and deceit on her. She was definitely under the thumb of Lord Sterling.
“Shall I draw your bath, My Queen?”
Jaclyn wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Yes. I believe that would be a good way to begin this day. Is my mother—?”
“She is still sleeping, my Queen.”
The new handmaid turned to go.
“Oh, yes. Word has come that we expect your father to arrive near midday.”
Jaclyn’s heart leaped in her chest. She controlled her reaction, knowing that the girl would be reporting to the King’s Regent.
“Very well,” Jaclyn said with a smile. The handmaid left to draw her bath. Jaclyn vomited again.
Jaclyn sat down in her chair and put her hand on her belly.
“I do wish that you would quit what you’re doing down there. It will be difficult for me to keep us safe while clutching a chamber pot.”
Jaclyn gripped the sides of the bath. Her new handmaid was stronger than Helena, and far less gentle. She scrubbed Jaclyn’s head with a stiff brush. It was all that Jaclyn could do to keep from crying out.
“What is your name?” Jaclyn asked.
“I am called ‘Tilda’, my Queen.”
“You are quite young. Did you have former duties?”
“Yes, my Queen,” Tilda said proudly. “I worked the Royal stables. It was my duty to groom the steeds for Lord Sterling and his officers.”
Tilda’s pride was reflected in her washing of Jaclyn’s hair. Jaclyn’s head jerked backward and she was not able to remain silent.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you, my Queen,” Tilda said. She exhaled heavily.
“We need to change out the water. It pains me to say it, my Queen, but whoever has been washing your hair has not—”
“Listen to me, Stable Girl,” Jaclyn snapped. “You are never again to speak ill of—”
Jaclyn caught herself. She had made a mistake, and she knew it.
Have I been baited by this….this…horse-washer? Did she speak the words fed to her by Lord Sterling?
She would never know. But she knew that this exchange would be repeated for Sterling to hear.
“I am sorry, Tilda,” Jaclyn said softly. “It was such a shock—to find that someone who was at my side every day could side with that beast. A beast whose idea of gratitude was to roast her alive.”
“You needn’t apologize to me, my Queen,” Tilda said. “I spoke out of line. I beg your forgiveness.”
Jaclyn patted Tilda’s hand. Tilda jerked her hand away in panic.
“You do not need my forgiveness,” Jaclyn said. “But you have it, if it makes you feel better.”
“May I be excused, My Queen?” Tilda said. “I am…I am suddenly feeling ill.”
“Yes, of course,” Jaclyn said. “Could you hand me my—?”
But Tilda had already run from the room.
She may be strong as an ox, but she is frightened out of her mind, Jaclyn thought.
As well she should be.
Jaclyn dressed and went to the room where her mother was staying. Lady Robinette Lamont stared out of her balcony window as she brushed her hair.
“Did you sleep well, Mother?” Jaclyn asked.
“The only reason I am able to sleep at all in this place is because you are here. I have not slept apart from your father for this many days since we were married!”
Jaclyn took the brush away from her mother and began brushing her hair. Lady Lamont tried to take the brush back.
“By the gods, Jaclyn!” Lady Lamont whispered. “You are the Queen! Such things are just not done! There are more servants about than one can count!”
Jaclyn leaned over and whispered into her mother’s ear.
“Yes, and they are all spies.”
Lady Lamont’s eyes grew large. She looked around the room.
“And besides, Mother,” Jaclyn said. “Brushing your hair gives me great pleasure. Who would deny the Queen anything that brings her pleasure?”
“You seem to be in much better spirits—”
Jaclyn gripped her mother’s shoulder. She put a finger to her lips and shook her head slightly. Lady Lamont nodded. She sat back and enjoyed the brushing.
“Father will be here soon,” Jaclyn said. “Did someone tell you?”
“Yes. It is to be a good day.”
Jaclyn allowed herself a smile.
“Yes. It will.”
Lord Lamont arrived as the tables were being prepared for the midday meal. Jaclyn ran to her father and threw her arms around him.
She closed her eyes and smiled. When she opened them, she was looking over her father’s shoulder, and into the sneering face of Lord Sterling. Her stomach roiled.
No, she thought. Stop it! Stop it, now!
Jaclyn willed the baby not to cause her to vomit again.
Not in front of Lord Sterling.
Never!
“We have had a feast prepared in your honor, Lord Lamont!” Sterling raised his ever-present cup.
“The first gathering of the Queen, the King that grows within her and both proud grandparents!”
“Now, Lord Sterling,” Lady Lamont said. “Let us not forget that the child could be boy or girl!”
Sterling took a drink and wiped his mouth. He had gotten an early start on the day.
“Balderdash!” Sterling sang out. “Let us not bring such negativity to bear on such a glorious day—shall we, My Lady?”
Lady Lamont wore a worried expression.
“Boys!” Sterling yelled. Two of his tasters ran into the dining hall.
“Two new wine-skins! At once! No, make that three! Lord Lamont and I have much to celebrate!”
Jaclyn looked at her father’s face. She knew that his position in the Kingdom would have him drinking into the night with Sterling, Raynard, and the other officers.
Lucien walked into the dining hall, wearing his battle gear. He and three young members of his guard were laughing at something one of them said. They stopped and fell silent when they saw that they were being stared at.
Sterling was not only staring, he was incensed.
The King and his friends were sweating and covered in mud. A team of servants scurried behind them to clean the floor.
“Lord Lamont,” Lucien said. “It is good to see you.”
Lamont bowed.
“It is my honor to be welcomed into your home, Your Grace.”
“I will clean up and join you—” Lucien began.
“We shall be here the remainder of the day, my King,” Sterling said with a wave of his hand. “There is no need to hurry. It could take hours to clear away the mud and sweat!”
Sterling laughed. No one else dared.
Raynard, Captain of the Guard, stepped to Sterling’s side.
“Begging your pardon, Lord Sterling. Tonight is the full moon—”
Jaclyn shuddered. She had forgotten that fact.
Sterling had not.
“The dragon would not dare show himself
so soon after his unfortunate…”
Sterling’s eyes flicked toward Jaclyn.
“Escape.”
“We cannot read the dragon’s mind, Lord—” Lucien began.
Sterling waved his arms.
“It has rained for three days with no sign of stopping!” Sterling yelled. “Miserable weather—for man or beast! He will be cowered in a cave somewhere, licking his wounds—probably somewhere far away, and safe! Near the sea, perhaps!”
Lucien scowled in embarrassment. His friends took their leave quickly.
Sterling interrupted the meal with various toasts. Each of them began with increasingly drunken and clumsy efforts to get to his feet. Most of the toasts referred to the certainty that the Royal Child was, without a doubt, the heir to the throne of Morgenwraithe.
Jaclyn gave silent thanks to Magdalena’s revelation that the child was indeed a boy. If not for that knowledge, Sterling’s words would have frightened her.
What would Sterling do if she gave birth to a girl?
She did not want to entertain such thoughts.
At long last, Sterling excused himself to go to the privy.
Lord Lamont stood while Sterling exited. He remained standing. Lamont stepped to Jaclyn’s side and offered her his hand. She took it and stood. He hugged her. While they stood he moved slightly, moving between Jaclyn and the others at the table. He took her hand in both of his and leaned his mouth to her ear.
“Guard this with your life.”
Lamont pressed the piece of parchment into Jaclyn’s hand.
Jaclyn could barely hide her excitement.
What was this note that her father had taken great care to pass to her? Was it good news? Or bad?
She could not read her father’s face. Her mother did not seem to know that anything had passed between them.
The meal came to an end, at last. Everyone was excused, except for Sterling, Raynard, and Lord Lamont. Lamont held his cup aloft at Jaclyn. He smiled, showing his reluctance to spend the rest of the day and night drinking with Sterling and his men. But he was an officer of the Kingdom, and drink with them, he must.
Jaclyn’s hands trembled as she reached the door to her private quarters. Tilda waited outside.
“Will you be needing anything—?” Tilda asked.”
“No,” Jaclyn said sharply. “I believe I will have a little nap.”
She hurried inside and opened the note.
She could not believe it.
Simon. The man, Simon. In the dungeon. At midnight.
Her heart raced.
And she was sick again.
Forty-Seven
Boone was back in less than two hours. The rains came again. The horse was frightened. Simon stepped back into the trees.
Magdalena was conscious, but weak. The bleeding had slowed.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Boone said. “I saw no one at the stables. The stable boy was probably asleep in the loft. That’s where I would be on a day like this.”
“You would probably have some innocent milkmaid cornered in the hay,” Helena said.
“That’s an even better idea,” Boone said. “Pleasure, and then sleep.”
Boone stepped next to Simon.
“Do you have clothes?”
“Yes.”
“How many more do you have?” Boone asked.
“These are the last of them.”
“Well, we’ll have to look under the witch’s mattress again, won’t we?”
Magdalena winced. Boone and Helena helped Magdalena onto the horse’s back. Boone tried to help Helena on, but Magdalena was too weak to hold herself.
Helena felt something against her foot. She looked down. Simon slipped his tail out of the trees. Helena stepped on it and mounted the horse behind Boone.
“Please, try to stay a woman until we get you home,” Boone said to Magdalena.
He shook his head.
“I sound like a madman.”
Simon circled low over the trees. He flew well away from the village, making his way to the side of town opposite Magdalena’s house. His course took him within sight of Islemar.
Would that I had time to make my transformation in the safety of Islemar, he thought.
He had never been discovered while transforming near the sea. The crashing waves and the high seawalls covered and dispersed all sounds—even the horrific ones that he made.
But he would not have time. He had only the hours of darkness to help Magdalena, and to carry his message to Jaclyn.
In his solitude, Simon’s conscious spoke to him.
You heard it yourself, only hours ago. Magdalena has already spoken to Jaclyn. She gave her a message of hope. She let her know that she was not alone, and that she should not despair. It was truly possible that the Kingdom could be rescued from its horrible state.
Magdalena told Jaclyn, in so many words, that her handmaid—no, her friend—was alive.
And that could only mean one thing. Helena was with him. She was alive and she was a friend of the dragon.
Her friends were together. And trying to…what? Could Jaclyn believe that Magdalena and Simon might be conspiring….together?
Simon shook his head. For a moment, he had been in such deep thought that he did not know where he was. He regained his bearings and flew down into a valley. The valley’s walls did not perform as well as those surrounding Islemar, but they would have to do.
With perhaps a half hour left until the moon reached the horizon, Simon laid on the ground. He was already tired. And what a night he had in store—the gut-wrenching transformation, followed by a run of several miles to reach Magdalena’s house. And these events would occur while everyone in the realm knew that he was in his human body until the next moon.
His transformation took place in the middle of a thunderstorm. That much was fortunate.
Simon made it to Magdalena’s house without seeing a single person. He heard some baying dogs in the distance, but he had no idea if they came from a hunting party or not. He fell against the frame of Magdalena’s door—wet, and exhausted. He knocked.
Helena answered the door.
Boone was asleep in a chair. Magdalena lay on the same table where Boone had been rescued. Simon held his breath, until he saw Magdalena’s chest rise and fall.
Helena held up the arrowhead and shaft between her fingers.
“I want to be a sorceress,” she said. “That was incredible!”
“Well, I was thinking about making you First Knight, but—”
“I can do both,” Helena said. “Who says I can’t do both?”
“If anyone could do it, My Lady, it would be you. Has she been awake?”
“She was awake most of the time,” Helena said. “I made the potion. Boone said the words. He’s good with words—not so good with things like crow’s eyes and spiders.”
Boone stirred.
“People are not supposed to find comfort in the presence of spiders and bird’s eyes,” he said.
“You cut the skins off of animals, but you’re afraid of spiders!”
“Everyone has to eat,” Boone said. “I am not afraid of meat. If you want to eat spiders, then go right ahead. You may have my share.”
Boone crossed the floor and peeked out of the door.
“Did anyone see you?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” Simon said. “The storm came at just the right time. I believe that it covered me.”
Simon pointed at Magdalena.
“How long has the arrow been out?”
“Most of an hour,” Boone said. “We will wait until she wakes up, and treat the wound with the rest of the potion. We’ll put her to bed, and then leave.”
Boone looked Simon in the eye.
“Can I talk you out of this? From what Helena has told me, Magdalena has already led the Queen to believe that Helena is alive.”
Simon bit his lip.
“I just…”
Boone stepped close to Simon’s ear, where
Helena could not hear.
“I know why. Please, be careful.”
Forty-Eight
Jaclyn hummed while she braided her mother’s hair.
Lady Lamont turned to look at her daughter.
“Jaclyn, there are scores of maidens who would consider it an honor to braid the hair of the Queen’s mother! What has gotten in to you, child? Not that I am complaining, mind you. It does my heart good to see you happy, at last. You have had us worried…”
Jaclyn placed her hand on her tummy.
“The little Prince takes great pleasure in disrupting my insides, I’m afraid. But he seems to have made his peace with me in the last two days.”
Jaclyn returned her hands to her mother’s hair.
She swore.
“Jaclyn!” Lady Lamont scolded. And then she laughed.
“That is no language for a Queen!”
“I am expected to rule a people, yet braiding hair gets the best of me!” Jaclyn said.
Lady Lamont stood.
“Let’s have a maid or two come and help you—”
“No,” Jaclyn snapped.
“What is the matter?” Lady Lamont whispered.
Jaclyn whispered into her mother’s ear.
“Trust no one, Mother. Especially here.”
Lady Lamont sank into her chair, and Jaclyn started over.
At dusk, there was a knock at the door.
“Enter,” Jaclyn said.
Lucien stepped inside. He bowed his head.
“My Queen. Good evening, Lady Lamont.”
Lady Lamont stood.
“Good evening, your Grace.”
Lucien was sweating and covered in mud. He was still in his battle gear, the same as he had worn into the dining hall. His face also displayed the foul depression that resulted from Lord Sterling’s dressing down.