Captain Gaspar, the bearer of this missive, represents my authority in word and deed and stands in my place as the height of our royal peerage which you recognize.
The serious nature of his visit in my name serves two purposes.
First is to inform you of our decision to bring charges against your person before our court. Your station as Lady and Governess of Loom Island is at question and we demand your attendance at the behest of myself and the Archbishop.
The second purpose is to settle the unrest which has befallen my subjects who live on your island. The many shocking accounts of bloodshed my sheriff and other reliable witnesses have revealed to us demand action.
You are forthwith required to accompany Captain Gaspar and return to Bahia at once.
We expect nothing less than your timely compliance as one born of our bloodline. A response in writing isn’t necessary. You will be received by officers of station and treated with all due considerations to a woman of rank of our family.
THE LOOPING SIGNATURE and seal beneath it was indeed the duke’s mark. Her brother referring to himself in third person was the Tito she knew. She handed the page back to her attendant and stared at one of her mirrors on the dressing table.
This was where the petulant and disturbed child would smash things, scream, and harm others and herself. Such tantrums had been her demeanor and curse when she and Tito and the rest of their siblings were young. She would go on and on until her hoarse throat could shriek no more even as the nursery maids tried in vain to calm her down. And then there had been the one time she had slashed a servant’s hand with a broken mirror shard.
Physicians came, one after the next, prescribing all manner of tinctures to soothe the beast in her head and heart. She was restrained. Prayed over. Starved, lectured, purged, bled, immersed in freezing waters, and corrected by the rod.
During one session given to her by a tutor she had fallen asleep while strapped to a hard chair. She had been enduring a withering lecture on where souls go who fail to honor their father and mother. Claudia’s brothers and sisters could be heard out in the sunny gardens playing. But Claudia hadn’t been good that week. The tutor stopped talking. He unstrapped her and was about to lift her out of the desk when Claudia sank her teeth into the man’s arm, tearing away a chunk of skin.
Her mother and father hadn’t known what to do with her. A young priest in service to the local don had come calling, having heard of Claudia and her ailments. He presented a solution to her mother and father’s plight. Let him take her to the island hospital.
Claudia knew little about the island west of Loom. Weren’t they infested with all manner of fel and their god-cursed offspring? But the decision was made and she never spoke with her parents again.
Sent off in the care of others. How she had tried to escape the cart that drove her away from their mansion. But as much as she begged and threatened and tried to fake a stupor so she could attack her new guardian, she wasn’t given the opportunity.
Hadn’t one of her lectures been of a storied king who was brought low by moon madness, cursed to spend his life as a wild animal in the fields until God’s favor blessed him with a whole mind? But she was no king, and never felt the divine touch.
But Queen Claudia the Second had learned much during those years in the West Island hospital. No matter what the shrieking demons on the inside demand, the flesh can contain them.
So now she didn’t scream, didn’t break anything, only smiled as she dismissed all her servants from her room.
Loom Island had a visitor who was there to take her away. But she wasn’t going to let anyone steal her from her home. And her brother Tito? Did he think he could suddenly dictate terms and summon her as if she were nothing more than an impudent child? He sat in his throne room with his pudding-bowl hairdo giving demands to the world, believing he did God’s work without answering to any man or woman.
And who was this Captain Gaspar who was to be her escort?
A military man, some low noble, no doubt. Surely her brother could have sent a proper envoy.
If her brother wanted a game, she would play.
The exhaustion of the previous day and night faded as she hurried to finish dressing. She’d have breakfast served in her clock room. There she would write a response, voice her concerns and her defiance, and see what her brother would do about it.
THANK YOU FOR READING. I hope you enjoyed The Dragon and Rose.
Please take a moment to leave a review. Even a short comment helps small press and independent authors find new readers. I appreciate all feedback!
Visit gerhardgehrke.com for a free short story, “Ogre Road,” a Sprat Hellard solo adventure.
The Dragon and Rose shares a world with my Goblin Reign series. While there’s some overlap, no knowledge of the other series is needed to enjoy this book and its sequels. But you may want to see what Diregloom’s northern neighbors are up to!
The adventure continues for Digger and friends in The Chapel of the Wyrm, part three of the Fallen Rogues series.
Kind regards,
Gerhard Gehrke
The Dragon and Rose Page 27