by M. D. Laird
“I hope to have my own library one day,” said Eve. “I need more books to fill it, though. There is a beautiful room in the Impærielas guild, it is enormous and used for nothing. It has a semi-circle window with a lovely view of the Impærielas farmlands, and it would make an excellent library if I can ever persuade the Impærielas to let me have one.”
“You have many a year to work on them and build your own collection.”
Eve had not found it easy to adjust to the thought of immortality. To never growing up with her family or friends. She was even finding her people particularly difficult to get along with. Her own sanctuary, her own place of solitude was just what she needed. Eve felt Thalia’s gaze upon her as she tried to shake the melancholia that had gripped her suddenly.
“You may have this to help you on your way,” said Thalia, indicating to the Wilde volume.
“I can’t take this,” exclaimed Eve. “It’s a first edition; it must be worth a fortune—that’s too generous.”
“It is valuable though I have one of the two hundred and fifty that he signed in my office, so I am consoled. It is yours.”
Eve busied herself researching the geography, flora and fauna of Arkazatinia with a particular focus, as Tharazan suggested, on Baltica. She read that the land had not always been barren, and according to the text when the witches occupied it, they had formed an eco-system. The witches took energy from the elements and replenished it with sacrifices. They usually used animal sacrifices; however, as Calab had once told her, they offered their own souls for more complex magic. After the witches left, the lands, no longer replenished with the witches’ sacrifices, became desolate wastes with hardly any vegetation.
The land was home to some odd creatures whose population had increased when the witches no longer sacrificed them to the earth. The beasts included balverines, giant serpents and deadly insects. Tharazan was right when he said it was not the place for a holiday and Eve had read nothing that helped her to understand why the Elion might want to go there.
After several hours spent in the library, Thalia invited Eve to her quarters. Her quarters consisted of a large open plan room with doors which, Eve assumed, led to the bedroom and bathroom though she had never had a tour. The room was separated with the ingenious use of rugs and furnishings. There was an office space with a desk and more books, a dining area with a large table, and a plush seating area with sofas and armchairs in front of an open fire. The furnishings were a combination of antique pieces from the Elizabethan to the Victorian period and a modern corner sofa which was a recent addition and had not been there on Eve’s last visit. The room was heavy with browns, blacks and deep reds—it was dark, but beautiful.
Thalia had ordered their supper, and it was delivered with wine as Mikæl arrived.
“My apologies for my tardiness, my queen,” he said, greeting Thalia with a mischievous grin which she warmly returned. He turned to Eve and kissed her hand. “Your Majesty,” he said and greeted her with the wink that used to make her blush.
Eve had a pleasant evening with Thalia and Mikæl. They enjoyed a hearty meal and more wine than was wise. She observed the interaction between them; they gazed at each other with an intense adoration that she had never witnessed. Eve thought it odd that Mikæl never faltered from called Thalia my queen and it seemed as natural to them as a person ordinarily calling another person by their name. She thought she would find it odd if her partner always addressed her as Your Majesty.
Eve listened to her hosts speak of forthcoming events and allowed her mind to drift to thoughts of Calab. Though she had known she had had feelings for him for some time, it had weighed heavy on her mind since the earlier conversation with Thalia. Rather than the negative response that she expected to receive from revealing her feelings for a demon, she was instead met with understanding and encouragement. She did not expect the approval to be universal, however, and groaned internally at the thought of mentioning anything of the sort to the Impærielas.
It was not that she hated her residence at the Guild of Impærielas, she just could not imagine herself living with their ways forever. They spent much of their day working and in contemplative meditation. They were skilled artisans: they were carpenters, tailors and jewellers and produced impressive wares which they sold to provide for their modest lifestyles. They were generally self-sufficient and reared animals and produced enough crops to feed the entire community which Eve found admirable. Unlike the other orders of Arkazatinia, they did not depend upon Lycea for anything.
However, she did find them difficult to talk to. They appeared to lack any sort of humour or willingness to engage in idle chitchat or, at least, they lacked the desire to share it with her. Conversation with them seemed reserved and was used solely to pass on messages. Nor did they read a great deal—their collection of books was limited to books printed by the Impærielas and included texts about farming, crafts, some children’s stories and some of the history texts cited in the guide to Arkazatinia. They had no books from Lycea and nor were there any novels.
After inquiring about the whereabouts of a novel or two, Eve was told that there were none in the community. It was implied, with some distaste at Eve’s request, that stories were for children for the purpose of learning to read, and adults should not indulge in them. As a result, Eve isolated herself and spent extended periods in her quarters and her office. Her office was the only room in the community that had electricity and had access to a computer. She was supposed to use the computer purely for Crown purposes though she did spend long periods streaming movies. She intended to ask for electricity to be made available in her room one day though she felt it would be a while before she felt comfortable enough to ask. For the time being, she had invested in a rechargeable DVD player that she secretly charged in her office and hid from view when not in use.
Eve’s unwillingness to engage in meditation was met with some discord by the newly appointed advisor to the Crown. Ezra’s role was to help the outlander queen become accustomed to the life of an Impærielas queen. At first, she followed his instructions, but after spending hours of the days staring into space and achieving nothing close to inner peace and calm, she refused. She was beginning to find her increased longevity alarming and the thought of spending her days following the same routine was unbearable.
“Would you like to?” asked Thalia, ending Eve’s ruminations.
“Sorry,” said Eve. “I was miles away, what did you say?”
“I asked if you would like to attend our Christmas party. It will be mostly the Procnatus and a few close friends.” Thalia winked at Eve who found herself blushing once more.
“I’d love to,” she replied. “I had actually been trying not to think of Christmas. I would like to visit my family on Christmas Day, but I imagine that, and my attendance at your party will be met with the same dissent by the Impærielas as every thought I have.”
“It will get easier,” said Thalia. “They will accept your ways, and you’ll accept theirs. Don’t imagine that things will be so inharmonious for all eternity.”
The Christmas party at the Guild of Procnatus was a grand affair. Despite the alterations to the guild, they had maintained a magnificent ballroom complete with gilded plasterwork, cherubs and exquisite frescoes.
Eve had arrived at the guild accompanied only by her guards. She had extended her welcome to her advisor who had politely refused but had not withheld his disapproval of her acceptance of the invitation. She felt awkward at first as a swarm of unfamiliar faces surrounded her. She wandered the hall flanked by her guards until she caught the eye of Mikæl; he approached her wearing his usual mischievous countenance.
“Your Majesty,” he said, kissing her hand. “Welcome to the Procnatus Christmas Ball, please allow me to escort you to your table.” He linked her arm through his and led her to a long table that seated most of the rulers except Queene Orrla. Orrla had informed Eve that she had several celebrations to attend with her own people to mark t
he Festival of Peace and felt too uncomfortable with the alliance to forgo them but would consider arranging them around the Procnatus party for the following year. Eve could not help but feel disappointed that her abhorrent outsider friend was not by her side.
The alliance all greeted her formally except Tharazan, who was very friendly but was engaged in a heavy debate about the merits of short swords over long swords with a hominem male Eve did not recognise.
“Some champagne for Her Majesty,” Mikæl asked a Procnatus waiter who was circling the guests with a tray.
“Certainly, sir,” the waiter replied, handing a glass to Eve and bowing his head.
The guests at the table had stiffened with Eve’s arrival, and their conversation seemed less relaxed although they still engaged informally with each other. Eve tried to ignore the feeling that was telling her it was because they hated her and searched the faces of the guests. She eventually spotted Calab engaged in conversation with Thalia who noticed her and motioned for Calab to look in her direction. He nodded his head towards her and gave a half smile, before returning to his conversation with Thalia. Eve felt somewhat foolish and disappointed. She did not know why she should expect a demonstration of affection simply because of her recent conversation with Thalia, but she had hoped to see some of the fondness Thalia had mentioned.
Eve sipped at her champagne. She began to regret attending the party. Even there surrounded by people, she felt alone. She thought she would stay a short while to be polite and then return to the Guild of Impærielas. She gazed around the room at the guests who were mostly thorian although a few demons had joined them. Many she recognised from the Guild of Asmodeus and some were her off-duty guards. Many of the guests seemed well-lubricated with the flowing champagne and danced with each other, in some cases amorously. Eve blushed and looked away when she spotted Barakel nibbling the ear of a thorian female. She recognised her as the girl who had served her and the Farleys breakfast many years ago though she could not recall her name. Nakhiel was also on the dance floor and passionately kissing a thorian male.
Eve felt the familiar pang of jealousy. She felt she would never be part of the Arkazatine community and would always be an outlander. Perhaps that was made worse by the Impærielas’ habit of referring to her as the outlander queen. Even if they accepted her after five hundred years, if Calab were to be believed, she should never have friends below her station as queen. As she ruled all Arkazatinia, that left no one—unless she wanted to venture overseas to befriend the king of Axandria.
A quartet had set up on stage and started to play. Most of the guests took up a partner and engaged in an elegant, slow waltz. She gave a small smile as she watched her guards waltz with their partners. They danced beautifully, and she almost considered asking her on-duty guards to dance with her. She decided against it knowing Calab, and probably Jacob, would find it inappropriate.
“May I have this dance, Your Majesty?” asked Mikæl, holding out his hand.
Calab would no doubt find her dancing with Mikæl inappropriate too, but she was not about to offend the thorian by refusing. “Of course.” She smiled, placing her hand in his and allowing herself to be led onto the dance floor and into a waltz.
“Are things any easier with the Impærielas?” he asked.
“No,” Eve groaned, “I feel awful saying so, but I just can’t live as they do. Every thought I have is met with dissent and assertions that it is inappropriate for the Crown or the people of the Impærielas. Even the simplest things like reading a work of fiction are considered improper.”
“It is the ‘obloquy of newness’ as Sarah Williams said—they will adjust.”
“I hope it is sooner rather than later, it is suffocating. I have been told I should also marry one of the Impærielas.”
“And have you accepted?” He smirked.
“Hell no!” said Eve. “Sorry. I mean, I want to get along with them, but I’m not going to marry one of them—especially if they never have a conversation with me for the rest of eternity.”
Mikæl laughed. “Honestly, I have never known very much about them until now. I have lived in Arkazatinia for over two thousand years, and I have barely seen anything of them.”
“They do not like anyone outside of the Impærielas. They don’t like me either. It’s quite frustrating.” Mikæl squeezed her hand and smiled. She returned his smile and asked curiously, “If you have lived for over two thousand years, were you around in Malia’s reign?”
His smile faded. “We’re not proud of our behaviour during Malia’s rule, Your Majesty,”
“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling sick with guilt as she eyed the shame in Mikæl’s expression. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “It was a long time ago, and we are very different people now.”
She smiled at him. “I know.”
“What news of your library?” he asked cheerfully.
“Well,” she started, “I have approached my advisor again about it, and he was, of course, disapproving. He said, ‘the Impærielas do not require a library or books which should merely be a record of how to complete a task or of an event rather than some silly, whimsical tale’. At best I may, if I must, develop a personal collection.
“So I was thinking, probably in a few years when I have a few more books, of relocating my office to the room I want to be my library. However, that plan is also flawed as I have a minuscule income as the Crown. I think it was set a hundred years ago and has never changed, and I earn nothing as the queen which will make it hard to furnish the room with shelves and purchase books. The carpenters of the Impærielas will not make them for me as their wares are to be sold. I am given my meals, my clothes will be made for me, and ‘there is nothing more I should need’. I’ve sold my car, and I’m selling my house in Lycea, but there will not be much left after the mortgage is settled and that will not last an eternity. I’m sorry; I don’t mean to burden you with my complaints.”
Mikæl listened and appeared sympathetic. “Your Majesty,” he said tenderly, “it will not always be so difficult. There will be an adjustment on both sides.”
Eve smiled at him. She hoped he was right. She had considered using her station to order the Impærielas to build the library for her but had decided against it. She had recently gotten around to reading another of the books Calab had loaned her about ruling others; it was The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli. She could not help but notice again that there was a ton of things that she did that she probably should not—showing her vulnerability to Mikæl amongst them. However, one chapter struck her and suggested three ways of taking rule over a society who had previously lived by its own laws. The first was to utterly ruin them, the second to live amongst them and the third to permit them to enjoy their old privileges and laws, but erect a council of state to keep obedience and address the interests of the ruler. She did not have the stomach for the first method but considered a combination of the second and third. She had plans in mind, but had no idea how she would execute any of them without directly ordering people—the thought overwhelmed her once more.
“Have you decided your plans for Christmas Day?” Mikæl asked.
“Yes,” she replied, “much to the dismay of my advisor I am visiting my family for Christmas lunch. When I asked what they had planned for Christmas Day, they told me they did not observe it, and they do not involve themselves in many matters of Arkazatinia or Lycea the Festival of Peace included. I hate the thought of not seeing my family on Christmas Day.”
“You must do what you believe is right,” said Mikæl. “They will ‘get over it’ as you are fond of saying.”
Eve blushed furiously. “You must find me so obnoxious,” she said, embarrassed that her words spoken to Calab about the alliance’s opinions had gotten to Thalia and then to Mikæl.
He gave another of his dazzling smiles. “You make a refreshing change, Your Majesty,”
Despite Mikæl�
�s mesmerising good looks, Eve found her thoughts turn to Calab, and she surveyed the room to find him. Thalia was now speaking with Tharazan and Calab was nowhere to be seen. She felt a surge of disappointment.
The music slowed, and Mikæl excused himself to take Thalia to the dance floor. They looked so perfectly in tune with one another and so perfectly in love. Eve felt another pang of jealousy for the simple and uncomplicated nature of their romance. She willed to hear the voice of Calab asking her to dance, but no such offer came. Eve presumed he had left and wondered if it was because he had learned of her feelings for him. She brushed off the thought as paranoia.
Eve woke the next morning surrounded by another cold wash of melancholy as she relived the events of the previous night. She had spoken to Thalia at the end of the evening who, somewhat reluctantly, admitted that Calab had left the party on ‘urgent guild business’ shortly after learning that Eve had feelings for him of a romantic nature. Eve felt embarrassed and hurt. Was he so repulsed by her that he could not even face her?
Eve heard nothing from Calab over the next few days and decided to write to him to ask to see him. The last thing she wanted was to appear desperate but felt she if she could just speak to him and clear the air then perhaps they could, at least, return to their pseudo-friendship/acquaintance status. She composed a simple note and sent it to the Guild of Asmodeus.
Dear Calab,
I have something important that I should like to speak to you about face to face. May I call on you at your earliest convenience?
Regards
Eve
A reply came the next day.
HM Queen Genevieve of Impærielas, Crown of Arkazatinia,
I believe I may have given you a false impression of our relationship. I must reiterate that our relationship is merely one of queen and subject and a less formal address is not appropriate. I respect your leadership and honour your rule, and therefore feel it is important to observe the boundaries of our roles and interactions.