The Queen's Truth

by Mette Ivie Harrison

  She smiled at that thought. It appealed to the rebelliousness nature she had had to squelch. Although one might argue that she was not defying the laws of the kingdom at all, for if no one could hear the sound of her music but herself, then was she creating music truly?

  No, she liked it better if she was a deviant in this one thing. Did Prince Arak know that, as well?

  He was younger than she was by four years. It was not a great span. Galatea’s own parents had been divided by at least as many years, her mother the elder. But they had not married until her father was well into his thirties and Prince Arak was not yet twenty. He had a handsome face, with good bones. But the flesh was still soft, and more than once.

  Queen Galatea had been tempted to pinch his cheeks, as if he were a toy made of stuffed cloth. He had blushed when she had mentioned the test of his fertility and he had looked down at his feet as his lineage and lands had been listed. Galatea had looked at his feet, as well. They were bare, as was proper when two rulers met together. He had very smooth feet, with only a few curls of dark hair on the top.

  He was a boy, not a man. And she had been ruling for ten years. She sometimes felt the weight of the responsibility in her back and found herself walking hunched over like an old woman, until one of her servants called for a hot bath.

  If she had seen Prince Arak in her first year on the throne, if he had been this age then, how she would have swooned for him. She would have thought him her father’s last gift to her, for it was said that a ruler who was truly powerful could leave a final gift for good or ill to the one who followed on the throne and Galatea knew that her father had loved her, for he had wept when he took her yua from her.

  For ten years, Queen Galatea had listened to her advisors tell her the importance of a good marriage. They had brought claimants before her and questioned them on her behalf. They had read letters from others, more distant. They had shown her portraits, a few enchanted so that she knew they showed the face truly. But she had never felt a thing. She did not admit to them that she was waiting for love, that she imagined she could have the same thing that was sung about in the ballads she had once so loved to play. But it was true. She wanted that, more than she wanted a child, more than she wanted to secure the continuance of her father’s line or her kingdom’s prominence in the world.

  But ten years had passed and she had grown impatient. So she told herself that Prince Arak would grow up. She might be able to guide him. She could love him in a certain way, proud of him, pleased with him. Could she expect more than that? It seemed unreasonable now.

  She held up the globe once more and let out a long breath slowly. His face was connected to the music in her mind now. A clever ploy indeed. She would have to find out which of his men had suggested this. And make sure to send him away. She could not allow an imbalance in her court. She did not intend to give her kingdom away, only share it.

  But it was a good face. In ten years’ time, it might improve significantly. Those dark brows, those thick lips, that long nose. He might become elegant, refined, deep-feeling and thoughtful.

  Or he could be a fool, led about by the nose, easy to bribe with pleasure, and without a thought in his own head.

  How could she know what the future would be? Magic allowed great powers, even to seeing inside the mind of one who held out hands willingly and lowered the natural barriers. But the future was not the product of one mind. It was the product of many, and of the laws of the world itself. No magic was enough to predict that. Influence it, perhaps, but always in surprising ways.

  Queen Galatea looked up and saw that one of her guard was staring at the globe. He was one of the new ones, rotated into the palace from the far reaches of the kingdom. The best and the brightest of the army were rewarded for a year with a place in her guard. But they never stayed for more than a year, for that would encourage them to grow fat and to forget themselves. One year in the palace was as much as most could hope for. A few lucky ones might get a second year if they were very valiant in battle, or particularly flattering.

  This one, the queen thought, looked as if he might be one of the former rather than one of the latter. He was not young, for one thing, and he had a hardened look about him. He had the weathering on his face of one who had spent many hours in the sun, year after year, but it was difficult to tell his age. His hair was not yet graying, and she estimated he might be close to her own age, perhaps younger. Yet he seemed to look on her as his inferior, in sense if not in station.

  “You,” she said, pointing to him.

  His eyes opened just slightly. Though she could with one word condemn him to death, he showed no fear.

  “Step forward,” she commanded.

  His boot heels clicked on the polished wooden floor.

  “Your name,” said the queen.

  “Feris,” he said. He added, a moment later, “O Magic.”

  She glared at him.

  He did not flinch.

  “Is there something you wish to say?” she asked.

  “No, O Magic,” he said. His hand twitched.

  “I give you permission to speak freely,” she said.

  “It is not my place,” said Feris.

  “Speak,” said the queen through gritted teeth.

  “He is not worthy of you,” said Feris, nodding to the globe. “A stupid bauble for you? It is an insult to our kingdom and to you.”

  “A stupid bauble. And if I tell you that it is magic? That I appreciate it very much?”

  He grunted.

  “Must I command you to speak freely a second time?” asked Galatea.

  “It is only that if you appreciate it so much, then I wonder you have spent so much time pondering its merits. Why not agree to the marriage proposal immediately and have done with it? You could be trying on gowns as we speak, and ordering new taxes to pay for your new jewels.”

  There was an audible breath from the guard who had been standing next to Feris. If Galatea was not wrong, the guards all seemed to be leaning away from him, as if to dissociate him from the rest.

  “Dismissed,” said Galatea, with a wave of her hand to the rest of the guard.

  “O Magic,” said the captain. “We cannot leave our post.”

  “You cannot obey my command?” she demanded, staring him down.

  His mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. “O Magic,” he said, with a bow of his head. He nodded to the others and they exited. Not swiftly, but without looking back. They were well-trained men. It was only that they had been trained to protect her, not to obey her. And who was to blame for that?

  The door closed with a low creaking sound. The throne room was supposed to be open to any who wished to speak to the queen, all day and all night long. Her father had never closed the door since he came to the throne and Galatea had tried to follow his example. And in one moment of pique, she had undone it all. She almost called them back, but she bit her lower lip. It would not do to seem indecisive, either.

  “You are angry, O Magic,” said Feris, who had remained.

  “And what makes you so sure that you know how I feel?” she asked. “You who have only been at the palace for a few weeks?”

  “I know an angry woman when I see one,” said Feris. “And you are a woman before you are a queen.”

  She was silent for a long while. She enjoyed keeping him standing and watching him wonder what she would do next. But she was also trying to look inside herself. She found that he was quite correct. She was angry. She did not want to be forced to marry a man she did not love. No matter how promising he was.

  “What do you suggest that I do, then? Remain unmarried until the end of my days? Let the kingdom go to a distant cousin? One who may not know anything of magic?”

  Galatea was glad then that she had sent the other guards away. She had no business speaking so openly with this one except that she could not think of anyone else she could speak to this way. Her advisors would tell her what she should do, for the sake of the kingdom
, her ladies would tell her that she was so lucky, to be queen, to have such gifts, to have so many men courting her. They loved the trappings of romance.

  But Galatea wanted to give away the crown sometimes and run away, wear dirty shifts and boots and let her hair down loose around her shoulders, if only she could have the freedom to find love as she wished.

  “I suggest that you find a man who is worthy of you,” said Feris. “One who is not a young puppy who will do whatever you or anyone else tells him to do, as changeable as a snakefly.”

  “And where will I find such a man?” asked Galatea. “When all of my advisors have been unable to find him?”

  “Perhaps they are all looking in the wrong places,” said Feris.

  “They have looked in every kingdom they can,” said Galatea. This was, no doubt, why they had come up with Prince Arak now. He had only just grown old enough to be a possibility.

  It would only get worse with time. She had already rejected so many men, and they had gone on to find their own matches. They had certainly not waited for love. They had children, most of them, many had sons.

  Now it was only the younger generation that was still available.

  In ten years’ time, she would have yet a younger set of men paraded before her. And they would be even less of a match for her then. She was no longer sure it was the problem of her advisors, or of the men. Was she holding to a standard that was too high? If so, her standards would get higher and higher. No young man would be able to meet them in the future.

  “I must be more realistic,” said Galatea.

  “No,” said Feris. “You must be more active in the search, O Magic. Why do you wait for your advisors to bring men to you?”

  “You suggest that I should go out and look for a man in the field?” said Galatea, meaning it as a joke.

  “I suggest exactly that,” said Feris. “And why not?”

  “Because of the magic,” said Galatea. Was that not obvious? Feris could not understand the true difficulty of her position. And why should she think he would? He was a guard, nothing else.

  But instead of being cowed, Feris laughed aloud. “You do not have enough magic to rule alone” he asked.

  “Of course,” said Galatea. “But that does not mean I should risk what I have.”

  “Do you want to share your kingdom with a man who has his own and will only see yours as a way to enrich his own people? Or do you want a man who cares about your kingdom because it is his, as well? A man who knows what needs to be done because he has been living here? A man who is strong and knows his own mind and can meet you in the middle?”

  Galatea was silenced for a long moment. Her advisors wanted to have control over her choice, of course. That was they had never suggested this. She would not have thought herself so easily led, but she had been busy with other matters in the kingdom.

  Truthfuly, Galatea had not put her whole self into finding a mate. So why should she have had success? No wonder she had only men like Prince Arak as choices.

  “Many a man of my own kingdom will fall in love with my position instead of myself,” said Galatea. Was this not the common excuse for royalty to marry other royalty?

  “And you think you would not be able to tell the difference? If so, O Magic, then you have a greater problem than finding a man who loves you.”

  Galatea looked again at Feris. He was very muscular. She had never been attracted to muscular men. She tended to like men who were less fleshy, who showed an interest in things of the mind, music or books, or simply philosophy. Men who did not smell of sweat and dirt and labor, who had servants and silk and feathers in their robes and whose greatest effort in a day would be to lift a crown to the head and hold it there upright for hours on end.

  “It sounds as if you have a particular suggestion, Feris,” said the queen.

  “No,” he said. “Not at all.”

  “You are not putting your own self forward, then, as a choice?” It would make sense to her, if this guard had become so bold because he had fallen in love with her.

  It flattered her, as well, to think that he had gained courage to speak now that she was seriously considering Prince Arak. He dared not wait any longer. He must speak his mind, even if it cost him his life. For what was his life worth if he did not have his love, if he must watch her every day yoked to a man who was not her equal, who had the right to touch her and kiss her and he did not?

  “Me?” Feris looked frightened for the first time. A crown of perspiration broke out across his forehead. He stepped back and almost fell. He had to throw out an arm to find his balance once more.

  “No, O Magic,” he said. His eyes grew distant and his expression tightened. “I must apologize most humbly if you think that I would do such a thing.”

  “Yet you are a man who loves this kingdom as much as I do.”

  “Yes,” said Feris in a low tone. “I am.”

  “You are a man who would never marry for any reason other than love.”

  Feris did not answer immediately, but at last, he agreed with a murmur.

  “You are a man who is my equal in intelligence and wit,” concluded Galatea.

  “No, O Magic. I am not,” said Feris.

  “You are too humble,” she said. She put out a hand to reach for his face. How would that stubble feel against her fingertips? Would it be soft or harsh? Like a brush or like a scouring stone?

  But Feris pulled away from her as if she had touched him with fire. Or with magic.

  “What is it?”

  “I did not mean this,” said Feris, in horror. “You cannot think that I meant for you to think of me this way.”

  “You spoke from your heart. There is nothing to be ashamed of in that.”

  “O Magic, you do not understand,” said Feris.

  “You are afraid that you will not be able to stand at my side. You do not want to be treated badly, as less than my equal. I think I understand very well.”

  “No,” he groaned. “No, you do not.”

  “Then explain to me,” she said. She liked the sound of his voice. It was not musical, but there was an earthiness to it that made her feel more herself, more a woman than a queen. Had he not said something to that effect?

  “I love another woman,” he said.

  It was a game, thought Galatea. He pretended that he loved another woman so that she could show she was jealous.

  “Is she beautiful?” asked Galatea, teasing.

  “She is very good,” said Feris.

  It was not what Galatea had expected him to say. Now she was not sure if he was talking about her or about someone else.

  “How long have you loved her?” asked Galatea.

  “I remember the day I fell in love with her,” said Feris. He closed his eyes as he spoke, as if he had gone back to that day in his mind, and was no longer in this one. His hips moved just a bit, a swiveling motion that seemed very sensual. His head dropped back and showed his bare neck.

  Galatea had to work not to let her breathing grow heavier.

  “I saw her from a distance. I had seen her many times before. But this time was different. She had changed somehow, or I had changed. But I could see the glow about her. She moved with a kind of grace that was self-conscious, that only a woman who does not care what she looks like can manage. She turned and looked at me and she looked right past me. I was nothing to her, not then. But I knew that I would do anything to make her see me.”

  He was talking of Galatea again. Wasn’t he?

  “It was six years ago now and I have spent every day of those six years trying to make myself worthy of her, making a list of good deeds that she will never know about, but have served only to change me in such a way that she would look at me and see a man she would not wish to slide her eyes past.”

  Six years? Had it been that long ago that he had first seen Galatea in person? She tried to remember which guards had been in the palace then. Had there been a need for a short term replacement? If one of them had go
tten ill, then it was possible Feris might have been called in from his station on the border.

  “I think you would like her, O Magic,” Feris went on. “If you met her, you might see in her a reflection of your own self. Except that she does not have so much to confuse her from what she sees is right. She does not have to live with the glitter of your office, nor with the stupefaction that comes from making choices about clothing or hair every day. She does not have to listen to evil people speak to her and then pretend that they are not evil.”

  Galatea was confused now. Did he mean that he imagined a woman she might have been, if she were not queen? And that he loved that woman? Was he asking her to give up the throne?

  She did not know if she loved him enough for that. She had only just realized that she loved him today. In time, it might be possible. But could she not find a way to make him happy with the woman she was in between the times when she had to be queen?

  Surely every woman had different sides of herself to be shown in different circumstances. And whatever he said, Galatea did not believe that he would have loved her if she had not been queen. If she were a scullery girl, for example, he would never have noticed her at all.

  “I have at last earned the right to call her my own,” Feris went on. “I declared my feelings for her and she told me honestly that she honored them, and that she would give me one year’s time to prove myself to her.”

  But—

  “And so I came here to the palace, looking for opportunities to do the right, as she would, no matter what the cost. I know that she would never have made the mistake that I have made, however. I cannot bear that I may have caused you pain in this, O Magic. Tell me that you forgive me. Or I do not know if I can return to her with hope.” He knelt before her, his head bowed, his arms clasped over his heart.