“Count Alfonso, your Highness.”
Chloë sniffed, that made sense. He was the ceremonial head of the House Guard.
“Would you like us to contact him for you, your Highness?” asked one timidly.
Chloë grinned, “Initiative! I like that! Yes, ask that he meet me in the infirmary. You, with me. The rest of you will prepare what you can for Lady Heather and be ready to see to her needs and lunch. Your name?”
“Elisabeth, your Highness.”
“Are you comfortable with ‘Liz’?”
“Whatever you request is fine, your Highness,” replied Elisabeth with a practiced meter.
“I do not want to hear the textbook answer. I asked you if were comfortable with it!”
She swallowed hard, “‘Liz’ is what the others called me as well as my mother growing up… your Highness.”
Chloë grinned, “Good! A real answer! Okay Liz, please contact the count and then direct me as I head to the infirmary.”
Liz bobbed politely and withdrew quickly to another room while the others looked on nervously.
“Garden dress? Someone? Anyone! And then lunch for two!”
The rest quickly bobbed and scurried about their businesses.
Chloë held her head high and fought off the tears. What has happened to dear Heather? In a matter of minutes she was changed and headed out the door of her cabin with nervous Liz at her side.
“Your Highness: the count was delighted to hear you were doing so well. He was very worried about the rough way you were brought on board. He will be waiting for us by the lifts and will happily escort you to the infirmary.”
Chloë smiled, “Thank you, Liz.”
“You do not need to thank me, your Highness.”
“No. But I can, and I choose to.”
Liz blinked before quickly firing back, “You’re welcome, your Highness.” Liz, with a brighter step in her heart led them along long corridors before finally reaching a series of lifts to the lower decks. Quickly they descended to a great hall where the count and two of his attendants were waiting.
“Your Highness, Princess Chloë Amsterval, I am delighted that you are doing so well! We were worried about your health. It seems several of the guards released the riot gas much too early.”
“As in ‘at all,’” she snarled. “Which way to the infirmary?”
The count recoiled somewhat confused, but soldiered on, “This way, your Highness. Is there anything I can do in the meantime to make your stay more pleasant?”
“There are a great many things, but first on my list is to issue an arrest warrant for Sir Reinhardt of the Beyscones. It was men under his direction that drugged me, kidnapped me from Afon, and then conveniently tried to squirrel me away.”
“That is a horrendous accusation, your Highness!”
“That was a statement of historical fact! Are you unable or unwilling to…”
“No! No! He will be brought forward to speak for his actions before your father! I promise you that! But to hear his story…”
“Does his story include him running like the coward he is? Leaving his own men in a hopeless situation while he fled!”
“No, your Highness,” grinned the count, “it did not include that!”
Chloë sniffed, “I take it you do not think much of him?”
“There are rumors of him trying to move above his station… Cowardice will not suit his aspirations.” The count smiled to himself as he opened the door to the infirmary for Chloë and the ensemble moved inside and surveyed the room.
“What of Lady Heather and gentle Raymond?”
“Raymond is over here, your Highness,” offered the doctor in charge.
“And Lady Heather?”
“Lady Heather? Um, your Highness, do you mean crazy girl?”
Chloë snarled and got right in the doctor’s face, “Reddish orange coat with fiery red hair! Where is she?”
“Um, your Highness, we had to sedate her… she injured several of the men and wouldn’t leave poor Raymond alone.”
Chloë glared at the count, “Is this your doing? Your men flood the place with gas and then you have the audacity to act surprised when someone lashes out? Who was shooting at your men? How were they being threatened? Was there not a more civil way we could have all met? I consider her my most prized friend, and I’m not too pleased how she’s being treated. Her father is the baron of Threedales of the Highlands of Afon. Is this really how you start diplomatic discourse?”
The count bowed deeply, “I’m deeply sorry, your Highness, but she…”
“She saved me from thugs on at least two occasions! She stood down Sir Reinhardt when he…”
“I understand and do apologize, your Highness,” interrupted the count finally. “You there! Doctor, see to it that Lady Heather is released. I will take full responsibility for the young lady.”
Chloë smiled through her teeth as the doctor squirmed and bolted for the back door. The count continued to run at the mouth, but she ignored him. “And Raymond?” she interrupted.
A smile returned to the count’s face, “He is over here and is doing well…”
Chloë moved across the room to find Raymond unconscious on a bed with a respirator covering his mouth and a tube snaked down his throat. Next to his pillow sat a gold chain with the crest of Amsterval on it. “He doesn’t look so good…”
“He is in shallow sleep. Nurse! Revive the man! He has important visitors!”
“I wasn’t that messed up by the gas…”
“No, your Highness, but he was laying in the gas for some time. The girl… Lady Heather would not let us evacuate him…”
“She was scared, she didn’t know what was going on,” she turned to face the count. “Lady Heather was trying to protect him. Protect him from a bunch of gas happy loons that seem to forget that people can talk! Communication! You may have heard of it… Did any of your men say so much as a word before we were hosed with the wretched gas?”
“No, your Highness, and I do apologize for that. We…”
“Your Highness… I’ve failed you…” mumbled Raymond.
Chloë grinned, “No. No you haven’t. You have failed when you stop trying. Have you given up trying?”
“No. No, your Highness, I have not…”
“Raymond dear boy,” beamed the count. “You are too hard on yourself! News of your dedication and perseverance has already spread and…”
“Count Alfonso, I hereby resign my commission,” Raymond managed to get out.
The count laughed, “Young lads, always so eager to prove themselves and all too eager to blame themselves when things aren’t perfect. Well perfection is a goal! You have done well lad! Your commission has already been dissolved!”
“Dissolved?” asked Raymond confused.
The count beamed, “His Highness, Prince Philip, has knighted you! Thus your commission was dissolved! There, by your bed are your chains of station!”
“I refuse…”
Chloë laughed, “No, no you will not refuse. If you wish to stand well with Heather’s family, you will accept it!”
Raymond looked horribly confused, “How…”
“Trust me, Sir Raymond! Trust me!” replied Chloë with an evil grin.
“There is something going on between our new knight and Lady Heather?” asked the count with a broad grin. “Yes, maybe that could help smooth over a few political transgressions.”
Chloë started to reply but her malicious grin melted as Heather was wheeled out. Heather looked terrible. She was strapped to the bed with thick leather straps and had a respirator strapped to her face. Chloë hurried to her side and immediately started to undo the straps. With a quick nod Liz joined her. Suddenly feeling left behind, the count snapped his fingers and his two attendants stepped forward to finish removing the restraints. “Wake her up!” screamed Chloë as she crawled onto the bed and cradled Heather.
“Remove the mask, your Highness, and she should quickly recover,�
� replied the obviously nervous doctor.
Chloë snarled and everyone stepped back. The snarl didn’t last long as she started to tear over as she held Heather tight.
“Heather!” murmured Raymond as he started to get up; his strength failed him and he collapsed back into the bed. No… it didn’t fail him: he tried again!
“Liz! Help Sir Raymond!” barked Chloë as she fought through the tears.
“Hey… don’t cry….they just cleaned your fur… now they’ll have to clean it again…” came the faint retort from Heather in the Old Tongue.
“Can you stand?” blubbered Chloë back.
“Give me a minute and I’ll be able to stand. Who do you need me to take out first?”
Chloë laughed as she watched the count take a step back. Apparently he had studied the Old Tongue well enough! “We are at an impasse for now. Get your strength and we’ll all just be civil.”
Heather offered a feeble grin as she looked across at Raymond, “Gold chain, they knighted you, didn’t they? Chloë said they probably would…”
“He did resign his commission, by the way, or at least tried to. That was moot because of the knighting.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” grinned Heather. “Okay Chloë, I’m going to need help to stand.”
Chloë beamed, that was the first time she had ever heard Heather admit she needed help, “Good girl! Work with me!” It took several minutes, but soon they were both standing. Heather was doing far better than Raymond, he just seemed to be a wet noodle!
“Just sit!” Heather grinned to Raymond. “No one is going anywhere fast.” She smiled and faced Chloë, “He is joining us for lunch, isn’t he?”
Chloë laughed and hugged Heather tight, “Is food all you ever think of?”
46
“It is good to see you smiling, your Highness,” offered the count in the Old Tongue as he and his attendants escorted Chloë, wobbly Heather and gracious Liz back to Chloë’s quarters.
“When you have your best friend at your side, smiling comes much more naturally,” grinned Chloë.
“Is Reinhardt on this thing? I think it’s about time he learned to sing soprano,” asked Heather with a broad grin.
“No, Lady Heather, he is not,” replied the count with an honest smile. “Princess Chloë has already called for an arrest warrant on some very serious charges.”
“When your people are done with him, ship him to Afon, there is a line forming of people that want a piece of his hide.”
“I must confess, things are diplomatically tense between our lands and Afon right now. However, if that could help smooth over some ruffled fur…”
“There is one thing you could do,” interjected Heather. “Not for me, but for dear Chloë here. Can we stop at Bervik VI on the way by?”
“Sir Raymond did correspond earlier of Princess Chloë’s strong desire to meet her mother. I think that meeting at Bervik VI may offer a proper neutral ground for all parties involved.”
Chloë nodded, “It is a start… How is Prince Philip?”
The count recoiled slightly, “Your father misses your dearly and does realize that he acted in haste.”
“He may have sired me, but he is not my father,” snarled Chloë.
The count’s eyes went wide but he held his tongue. He quite obviously fought to change the subject, “We can have a room prepared for Lady Heather later this afternoon. How many attendants will she require?”
“None,” replied Chloë. “Find a good seamstress and have her fit. But any help Heather needs, I shall offer myself.”
“But, your Highness… she…”
“She is my best friend and you people have already done enough! I, I, will tend to her until she returns home!”
“Well, I could do with a cook…” grinned Heather.
Heather giggled as the swarm of attendants laid out the prepared luncheon, “Okay, I see what I’m eating. But were they going to feed you?”
Chloë laughed, “Part of me wishes to sit here idly and watch you try to eat all of that!”
“They look nervous,” suddenly frowned Heather as she pointed to the mob. “I didn’t do anything wrong that I know of.”
“They are waiting to see if we like it. If we don’t, they could get in trouble,” sighed Chloë.
“Oh! That isn’t right!” snarled Heather. “They tried hard, isn’t that good enough?” Suddenly her face melted, “Please don’t also tell me this isn’t something stupid like they eat our left-overs is it?”
Chloë grinned, “If that was the case, they would surely starve! No, things are strict, but not barbaric.”
“Have they eaten yet?”
“No. Not until we are done.”
“I’m done.”
Chloë blinked, “You haven’t eaten a thing.”
“I’m not going to eat in front of them if they haven’t eaten. You can go stuff your protocol, that is just rude.”
Chloë grinned, “Yes, you would have given my tutors an ulcer! And it would have been a fun show in the process! If you leave the table having not touched a thing, they will certainly get in trouble! Now if…”
“That’s terrible! Is there no way to win?” blurted a thoroughly flustered Heather.
Chloë laughed, “Hush! dear Heather, and let me finish!”
Heather giggled and bit her lip.
Chloë turned to the group and addressed them in her native tongue, “All of you but Liz are dismissed. Go eat! If you return before we reach desert, I will be annoyed!” The mob blinked twice and then quickly scurried away. “Liz, sit, eat.”
Liz stood their shaking, “Your Highness! I cannot eat at your table!”
“Then grab a plate, load it up and eat on the coffee table! Move it girl!”
Liz stared at Chloë and then bobbed politely and quickly loaded a small plate with a very few items.
Chloë growled, “You can’t live off of that! Get more! I’m going to get mad if Heather has to serve you food…”
Liz scurried back for more food and then retreated to the coffee table as directed.
Heather laughed, “Even with the language divide, I think I caught the meaning of all that!”
“Does the situation now meet with Lady Heather’s approval?” asked Chloë with mock formality.
“No Raymond?” pouted Heather.
“Sir Raymond will not be joining us for lunch. His…” began Chloë, continuing with the mock formality before breaking out laughing! “Oh! I can’t do that! Raymond is hard pressed to hold down water right now. Not good lunch company! He should be joining us in the great hall afterward.”
“Well then! We’d best get after lunch!”
Chloë smiled as she watched Heather start to dig in and then she melted, “I’m so very sorry, Heather. I didn’t even try to defend myself. When we were surrounded without the Shukurae and then…”
“Hush! Silly girl! Hush! This is just like when Reinhardt grabbed us. We keep our cool and then move when things are in our favor.”
Chloë cocked an eyebrow at Heather, “You realize we are on board a cruiser commanded by the head of the Amsterval House Guard?”
“Yeah, and?”
Chloë just gave up and laughed, “Okay, you win! I’ve seen you depressed: this isn’t that! You have a plan, don’t you?”
Heather just grinned, “Of course! And part one of that plan is to eat lunch!”
47
The Great Hall was actually quite large for being on a starship. It was lavishly decorated and embellished with a library off a wing, elegant furniture all around and even a fireplace. That had to be a nightmare for safety! Chloë had enjoyed her lunch and now they were waiting for Raymond to show. Chloë took some hidden satisfaction in watching Heather be fitted for her dress. Not that it made Heather uncomfortable but rather knowing for all that the attendants were doing, the dress’s fit was still going to be inferior to what Heather could have gotten at home.
Home. Where was home now? Was
she going to hide out on Bervik VI with her mother? That was no way to live. It was a given they were going to let Heather leave, they were going to be happy when she was gone. But letting Chloë leave? She knew that was a fight waiting to happen. She desperately wanted to return with Heather to the Highlands, but…
“Do you play?” interrupted Heather.
Chloë had to strain to figure out what Heather was talking about. Oh! The musical instruments! How did she not see that coming! “Um, harp, not really. I can do a few things on piano.”
“Ah! Your tutors weren’t a complete waste then! Come! It’ll be fun!”
Chloë laughed; Heather’s enthusiasm was contagious. As always! “Okay, but I only am good at a very few things.”
“Fire away, I’ll follow along,” grinned Heather as she tilted the harp back to her shoulder and extended her claws. She fired of a quick riff, checking the feel and tone of the instrument.
The few other nobles in the room looked on with confusion, Chloë wasn’t going to perform for them, that wasn’t right. But suddenly leaving the room would be an even worse faux pas!
“Sit, please!” called Chloë as she sat at the keyboard. “We are just having fun!”
That did little to settle the nervous herd…
Chloë quickly launched into playing what few pieces she still knew well. She laughed and smiled as Heather dexterously followed along either knowing every piece played, or just simply adding fill and flourishes to pieces that were new. Chloë was fascinated by Heather’s skill: claws on the strings without buzzing, soft touches of her pads to silence strings as needed. Every other harp player Chloë had seen had always trimmed their fur so as not to interfere with the strings. Heather needed not such aids, she was perfection in motion. After a thoroughly enjoyable quarter of an hour, Chloë finally laughingly yielded the piano to Heather, “Please! Your turn! I want to hear you play without me messing you up!”
Raspberry! Oh, Chloë had forgotten how much she had enjoyed those from Heather!
“Um, you were doing fine. I was just doodling…”
Chloë Page 20