Against the Reign

by Dove Winters

  “Yes!”

  “Will you remain loyal to the people, who look to you as their savior, consoler, and protector?”

  I let my eyes sweep across the crowd of angry faces staring back at me. I’m unfortunate enough to find the woman I hit with the tomato.

  “Yes!”

  He lifts the crown off my hands and gently places it on my head. It’s a king’s crown, similar to my father’s, but smaller, likely the first one he wore. Though smaller, it still sits lower on my head than it should.

  To the crowd, he raises his hands, “I present to you Queen Virginia of Newrock!”

  “Queen Virginia of Newrock!” The crowd repeats in monotone with their hands raised. I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as they kneel to me. I’m sure not one of them wants to do it, but they won’t risk being arrested for treason.

  The horn sounds again, startling me, and Ferrant whisks me back inside the castle. I’m relieved it’s over.

  But at the same time, I’m terrified at what is beginning.

  Eight

  An impromptu funeral follows the ceremony. From bleak to bleaker, I think. There are no bodies to bury so there is no burial. Instead, their crowns are draped in black veils and put on display, and the people are given a chance to mourn and show their heartbreak over the loss. I watch as person after person comes forward to weep. They weep for my parents, the king and queen they respected, but they also weep out of fear. They know their lives are going to change with me on the throne.

  Ferrant stands, finally, and announces that he plans to build a monument in their honor to remember their greatness. Then he sends the town home to mourn. Normally, a grand festival would accompany the crowning of a new royal, but not when the previous royals are being put to rest. The festival will be postponed.

  Still, a grand feast is served for the members of the court and those of noble ranking. Out of duty, I can’t escape the feast, and despite our grief, Vian and I are planted at the head of the table. We watch the others feast without eating ourselves. I’ve never seen Vian so pale, his eyes red and swollen, his teeth clenched over his lower lip. Only days before I was seeing him as a man fit to be king. Today, he looks every bit the child he still is.

  “My queen,” a soft voice pulls me away from my thoughts. I turn to find Marguerite and she curtsies low. “May I be of service?”

  I can tell she’s asking if I’m alright. I manage a weak smile and tell her to find Ward, for both of them to return to me. She nods and hurries away. I beckon to one of Vian’s servants.

  “Take him to his room. Have Joannes give him something to relax him and put him to sleep. He should not be here.” My command is quickly obeyed. Vian looks at me gratefully before leaving the feast. Once he’s gone, I reach for a cup of wine in front of me and down it. If I’m stuck here, I can at least ease my mind. I fill the cup again from a pitcher on the table.

  “Your Majesty.” I look over my second cup and find Ferrant bowing. I wave him to rise.

  “You look upset,” he says as he walks around the table.

  “Is that not warranted today?” I ask as I fill my cup again. He takes a seat in the spot Vian vacated.

  “Yes, of course, of course. You have no doubt suffered a great deal today.” His voice is soft and sympathetic. So why do I feel like he’s mocking me? I take another gulp of wine, leaning against my elbows on the table. “Perhaps I may give you some advice?”

  “Which is…” I prompt him, hoping he’ll finish talking and go away.

  “You are the queen now. You have the entire kingdom at your fingertips. You don’t have to wallow in sadness. Find what makes you happy. Make the kingdom yours.”

  “What about the people?” I ask.

  “The common folk are mindless followers. They do as their leader says because it’s all they know. Do as you please. They will follow you.”

  Something about his words spark uneasiness in me, but my head is starting to feel lighter and the feeling is pushed away. He is right about one thing: I don’t want to wallow in sadness. And the kingdom is mine now; I can do whatever I want. But my parents; the thought pulls me back down.

  “I have to do what my father would have wanted me to do,” I say, but I feel like someone else spoke those words. I seem to be watching myself instead of actually being present.

  “Your parents—may they rest in peace—are no longer here to judge you. Don’t you see, my lady? You can finally be yourself without their reproach. Personally,” Ferrant leans over and whispers so no one else will hear, “I always thought they were too hard on you. Your father was too much of a push-over with the people. The throne needs someone with more gumption. Like you.” He pulls away and rises as Ward and Marguerite approach. Throwing them a nasty glance, he bows again. “My queen, I’ll be near if you have need of me.”

  “What was all that, then?” Ward asks, crouching beside me. With so many nobles in the room, as a servant, he cannot sit in the chair beside me.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking that maybe I should be enjoying myself tonight. This is my feast isn’t it?” I ask. I see Ward’s brow crease.

  “It is,” he says slowly.

  “So grab a cup.” I push another towards him and fill it. The pitcher is empty now. I motion at a nearby servant to refill it and she hurries away.

  “Ginn…I mean, Your Highness, I know how you must be feeling right now, but everyone is watching you. This isn’t the alley pub,” Ward points out.

  “Remember the harvest festival about three years ago?” I ask him to change the subject.

  He can’t help but giggle. “I won’t soon forget.”

  “Tell Marguerite,” I say so I can sip some more.

  “We skipped dinner that night and went straight to desserts. Oh, they were some delicious fruit tarts and honey-coated almonds! Then we stole a pitcher of wine from the duke’s table. We were having a wonderful time until we both retched in the gardens!” Ward and I both laugh.

  “My mother lashed my hands and forbade me from playing with Ward anymore,” I say, still laughing.

  “I can see you learned your lesson,” Marguerite says, smiling.

  “As always.” I look around the room. The feast is quite boring. No one is dancing, though it’s no surprise since the music is slow and mournful. If this is my kingdom, my castle, and my rule, why can’t our feasts be more to my liking? “Do you remember the minstrels in the pub the other night? The ones playing that music that was so fast it made you want to dance?”

  “Yeah,” Ward says.

  “We should bring them here.” I smile. “Tomorrow we can have a real feast.”

  Nine

  A queen’s day starts early.

  Della enters the room with the sun and clears her throat loudly, causing me to jerk awake. She jumps back from the dagger clutched in my hand, but when I see it’s her, I let it fall to the floor and fall back to the pillow. My head is pounding although I really didn’t have that much to drink. It worsens when she throws back the curtains and sunlight floods the room.

  “Della! Let me sleep!” I command with a growl.

  “You have a meeting with the court this morning, my lady,” she says matter-of-factly. I peek at her through one eye. She was my mother’s lady-in-waiting, but now she will be mine. She is unhappy about it obviously. Her mouth is set in a deep frown, her round face puckered as she stares at me. I have to feel bad for her getting stuck with me. Pity makes me rise.

  Once I’m vertical, she calls to the others. Marguerite joins the other two maids who come to make me presentable. Hence we begin with the hair pulling, clothes stripping, and frustrated murmuring, from all of us. After one particularly bad yank on my head, I send Marguerite to Joannes to get me something for pain. She returns with a hot drink which I sip gratefully.

  Once I’m made up, I send Marguerite to find Ward and tell the other maids to leave me in peace. Grabbing a quill, I make a list of names on a sheet of parchment. Below the names, I scribble out a qu
ick invitation. Then, I take a separate sheet of parchment and write another invitation, this one a personal one, and seal it. Flanked by my guards, I leave the castle and head to the stables where I find some of our messengers attending to the horses.

  “I need two men for what could be dangerous missions,” I say. Two men immediately step forward. I address the younger of the two. “Take this list of names. You’ll find them in the alley behind the black curtain in Thumbstole.” I can see him give a slight grimace, but he quickly recovers. “Find them and deliver the invitation below. Keep your voice low.” He bows and takes his parchment. I turn to the other man. “This one I need taken to Etigan. Can you manage?”

  “I can, my queen,” he says without a hint of doubt.

  “Good. Deliver this to Prince Liam and see that no one else sees it.” I hand him the sealed letter and hurry back to the castle. I’m late for my first meeting of the court.

  Ward and Marguerite find me as I hurry to the Meeting Room. I make them come with me despite their protests. The members of the court are sitting at the big, oval table, uncomfortably quiet as we enter. They rise until I sit, then Ferrant remains standing to begin the meeting.

  “Gentlemen, we begin our day in the presence of a new queen. A new reign has begun. Queen Virginia, you have the right to dismiss any members you choose and to replace them.” Ferrant’s words send looks of fear through the men. I shake my head.

  “My father appointed these men and I trust them.” That’s only part of the reason. I don’t know any of them, nor do I know anyone to replace them with. But my words send a collective sigh of relief through them. A sturdy-looking man near the end of the table rises.

  “Your Majesty, I must protest against letting servants into the meetings,” he says, respectfully but with obvious annoyance written on his face.

  “They remain,” I say. “And what’s more, we need another chair or two. A woman shouldn’t be standing.”

  The man to my left immediately rises and lets Marguerite have his seat. I make a mental note to remember him; short, balding, beard could use a slight trim. He has manners and obedience and I like him.

  The other man, though, is now wearing a frown. “Your Majesty, we cannot have a private meeting with them present.”

  “Ward is my….steward.” I glance at him and he shrugs. “And Marguerite is my lady-in-waiting. They are my private servants and will stay here to attend to me if I have need. Now you are wasting our time. Get on with this meeting so I can go.” I dismiss the man with a wave of my hand. His face turns red and I’m sure I’m not making any friends today, but my head still hurts and I have no desire to be here. Ferrant clears his throat.

  “Getting back to the trouble at hand, I think it wise to rally our army together and prepare to fight. Rayner informed us that those who attacked the royal carriage were wearing Windem’s colors.”

  “Windem?” I say in surprise. Our neighbor to the west and one of the strongest kingdoms. It hadn’t sunk in when my father mentioned them before, but now I realize the oddity of it. “Why?”

  “Perhaps they want to expand their border?” someone suggests.

  “We’ve never had a problem with them before. Why now?” someone else says. I frown.

  “I know for a fact Etigan has been increasing security around its borders. Do you suppose they’ve allied with each other to conquer us?” I ask.

  “To what end? Who takes us when we’re defeated?” Ferrant asks.

  “They could divide us and share the spoil. We’re between them,” comes one answer.

  The man who gave up his seat for Marguerite speaks up, “As far as I know, the king of Windem is not friendly with the king of Etigan. I can’t see them helping Etigan in such a way.”

  “Etigan must know something.” I rub a hand across my head in thought. If Etigan does know something, Liam might be able to tell me what it is. But I can’t say that here.

  “I think we should send messages to Kensar and Etigan. The five kingdoms agreed to live in peace. If one of them is stepping out of line, we must rally the others to help us,” a soft-spoken man says.

  “To Kensar, I agree. But not Etigan. They already have a reputation for being trouble,” the still red-faced man says.

  “Just because someone is known for being trouble does not make them an enemy,” I say. An uncomfortable pause quiets the room. I glance at Ward and see his grin and realize what I just said. They’re all thinking of me. The man who gave up his seat clears his throat.

  “Well-said, my lady.” The others murmur something that might be an agreement. Red-face speaks up next.

  “We’re in agreement that we need to tighten our security then?”

  “Yes. But a letter should be sent to Windem as well,” I say.

  “Why?” Ferrant asks.

  “We need to attempt a peace talk. Find out what they want. You don’t just murder the king and queen of a kingdom for no reason. Something has happened, and I need to know why. I should think that much is obvious.” I can see something flash in Ferrant’s eyes at my last remark, but he remains calm.

  “A letter should be sent. But it must be carefully written,” he says.

  “A letter like that would have to worded just so. You mustn’t sound weak or afraid, and you mustn’t threaten, but you must still sound as though you pose a threat,” the soft-spoken man says. The others murmur in agreement.

  “I will write the letter,” Ferrant volunteers. Most of the men nod.

  “And multiple copies should be sent. If Windem is attacking us, they may be on the lookout for such messengers. It will be a long and dangerous journey,” another man says.

  “In the meantime, we strengthen our security. Guard our borders. The townspeople must be protected,” Red-face says.

  “Yes,” I agree.

  “Most importantly, we must protect our new queen and her brother,” Ferrant says. His eyes close as he bows his head dramatically. I can’t shake that nagging feeling of being mocked. But the other court members are agreeing with him.

  The meeting is settled, and I gratefully escape the room. It was getting too warm and my head is still pounding. Wanting only to return to bed, but with my head swimming in uneasiness, I think to head to the Reflection Room so maybe Ward, Marguerite, and I can have some peace. But Ferrant catches up to us before we reach the stairs.

  “Queen Virginia, you aren’t finished yet,” he says, throwing a dirty look at Ward and Marguerite. They both step away from us.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “There are people here waiting to have a moment of your time.”

  “Tell them not today.” I expect to be badgered, but Ferrant bows.

  “As you wish, my lady.” He lets us pass. I decide for now not to worry about it and lead my friends upstairs. With the fresh, cool breeze reviving my senses, I’ll be able to focus more on what I’m planning: my first feast in the castle as Queen.

  Ten

  I take my seat at the head table next to Vian and smile. The room is full, loud with chatter and laughter, and full of delicious smells. The regular minstrels are playing their same boring tunes, the only thing that makes me frown. Perhaps the messenger did not find the minstrels I wanted. I’m about to send for him when several young men hurry to the table. I recognize them immediately and smile. They bow.

  “Your Majesty! You have sent for us?” one of them says.

  “Your music is greatly needed to liven this party. I’m glad you made it,” I say.

  “We were just cleared by your security. They were quite thorough,” another one says with a slight cringe.

  “Well, that’s to be expected. What do you call yourselves?” I ask.

  “We’re the Dragon Slayers, Your Majesty!” a third says brightly.

  “Fine. Get playing so that people will start to dance.” I send them away and they hurry to start playing. Their music is something new for many of the guests. The four who sing do so in harmony, dancing to the rhythm the others play. Just
watching them move to the music makes me want to dance, and I begin searching the room for Liam. I know he’ll try to be inconspicuous when he arrives.

  Dancers take to the floor and the noise level rises sharply. I join Ward and Marguerite for several dances, letting the feel of old times wipe away the stress of the past few days. Only when I’m sweating and parched do I head back to the table. Red-face from the court is waiting for me.

  “My queen, we cannot have this in the castle!” he shouts over the noise. Several other court members are with him to back up his complaints. Ferrant approaches us calmly.

  “What is the problem?” he asks.

  “Ferrant! We feel we must take action against this. We have just lost our rulers, we are facing possible attacks from a kingdom that could devastate ours, and the new queen has beggars eating in our castle!” Red-face points to the food table. Hob, a beggar from the alley, obviously overheard the invitation and has crashed the party. Secretly, I’m glad. Hob is a friend and I would not have hesitated to invite him, but for the knowledge that the court would be up in arms about it. Like they are now.

  “He is hungry, and the castle would not turn away someone in need,” I say in his defense. Hob happens to look up and sees us staring. Happy with his chicken, he raises a bone as if to toast us and smiles; I see the court members grimace when they see Hob’s lack of teeth. I make a subtle motion to Hob to leave and he takes the hint, disappearing into the crowd.

  “We cannot have the other kingdoms getting wind of this type of celebration. They would see it as a weakness.” Red-face is living up to his nickname.

  “The queen is young and in need of training. She needs to know this kind of behavior and the behavior from this morning are not acceptable,” the soft-spoken court member says.

  “What behavior this morning?” I look at Ferrant.

  “Gentlemen, please understand that the new queen is under a great deal of stress. She will need to get some things out of her system before she is ready to be the responsible queen we know she can be,” Ferrant says. I’m surprised to hear him coming to my defense. I begin to think that maybe I misjudged him. “Perhaps I should take the members of the court to the Meeting Room. We will have a quiet place so you may voice your complaints to me. I will address the queen with them tomorrow.”