by Lani Lenore
“We’ll be going back to the Lady now,” he said, louder so that it would catch Brooke’s attention. “She needs to know that the rodents are not simply after her kingdom. Hopefully, she will be able to acknowledge the seriousness of it.”
Anne nodded, finally releasing his fingers. She turned back toward Brooke, who waited behind her. Armand lingered a moment, wondering and confusing himself until he banished those things. He then stepped in front of them and led the way toward Olivia’s bedroom.
Chapter Twenty: Gentle, Gentle
1
Lantern light illuminated the spines of all the visible books inside of the Lady Sovereign’s palace. Most were covered by the framed pictures, but some still peeked through. Olivia sat on her throne, head propped on her hand, staring toward the books and trying to read the names of them going down the line. Little Lord Fauntleroy, Moods, The Silver Skates, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland... It wasn’t long before her eyesight drifted and the words became a blur.
Throughout the last while, soldiers had been coming in and out, reporting that there were no disturbances–reporting there had been no rodent sightings, that everything was fine within the kingdom. This was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? So why did she feel so absent?
Granted, she didn’t think about her old life or miss it in the smallest degree. She didn’t think about her parents who had tried to ignore her existence. She didn’t think of her brothers and sister who she’d only played with occasionally. She did not think of Todd who had wanted to take her away from all her wonderful toys. There were only two people from that life that she thought about. She greatly wished that her uncle Euan could have come with her; he would have liked this place.
The second was Anne.
How exactly had her nanny come to be here? Was it right that the woman had followed her everywhere in her old life, and now she had seen fit to follow her here? What was more than that, Anne wanted both of them to leave–to go back to that old life, but Olivia was having none of that talk. This was Olivia’s own magical world, and Anne was certainly not welcome in it. The woman was likely off somewhere right now causing trouble. The girl knew she should have had the meddlesome wretch beheaded when she’d had the chance.
Olivia sighed out, sitting there, shielded from the open aisle by glorious peacock feathers. Tilting her gaze to the side, she watched her favorite ballerina doll dance gracefully and endlessly.
Olivia understood her position as the Lady Sovereign. She knew that it was her duty to command these toys–as she had been doing since before she had come here–but this game was getting old. Before, she’d at least gotten to do something different with herself. She didn’t always have to play the war game. Now, she was restricted to sitting here for hours and hours on end with nothing to do. If something could have happened at least! Or if Armand was there…
Ah, Armand! Beautiful Armand–her prince; her hero. She’d loved him from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him. She’d held him in her hands, and she’d known that he was perfect. How long had it been since she’d seen him? Every fleeting moment seemed like an eternity. How long would it be before he would come back again? He should be by her side every moment! That was what soldiers did for their ladies.
She smiled. Yes; this was a different twist on the entertainment. She was not simply a queen fearing for her subjects and the standing of her kingdom. She was a forlorn lover, wondering if her soldier would return to her. Every time Armand came and left again, she could play this game once more. Eventually, he would say he was there to stay. She anticipated their future wedding ceremony. Still, she missed him while he was away.
But she knew that wherever he was, he must have been thinking about her. It wouldn’t do for him to keep her waiting much longer.
“Lady!”
The word brought Olivia out of her stupor, and she nodded for the peacock feathers to be withdrawn from her view so that she could see who had addressed her. The girl lifted her eyes to see a soldier in red running toward the throne. His tall, furry hat fell off as he moved forward, but he did not stop to get it. The Lady saw the worried look in his small, black eyes, and she rose from her seat immediately.
“What is wrong?” she asked. No matter what role she played, her concern for all her subjects was very real. They were her family.
The soldier stopped before her, heaving from his long trek even though he had neither lungs nor breath, either one. He knelt.
“Pardon the intrusion, Lady Sovereign,” he gasped. “But I have distressing news!”
Olivia stood up as straight as she could manage to receive this report. She knew it would not be good.
2
Together, the trio consisting of two soldiers and a misplaced human came upon the entrance to the Lady Sovereign’s kingdom. There was not one among them that would venture to call one of the others ‘friend’, but they were joined nonetheless. Armand and Brooke both had the common goal of protecting Anne, and on the other side of things, Anne had a very certain intention to be protected.
In a straight, silent line, they stood before the vent–gate.
Anne remembered this place, just as she remembered the passages leading to it. This was where she’d tricked the guards into thinking that she was Olivia and had broken free of the jester puppet.
Bad memories…Good memories… Clever girl, Anne.
A round, wooden face peered through one of the decorative holes in the grate. The woman thought this was a familiar sight as well.
“Password?” the soldier asked after eyeballing them a moment.
Anne cringed. How many times had she heard that? Still, she had no idea what the password was to get in; only out. She hoped Armand knew it. If not, there might be problems, and perhaps a few lifeless soldiers.
“A pocket full of rye,” the nutcracker said without a hitch.
She looked toward him with wide eyes. It was impossible! Ridiculous!
“A pocket full of rye?” she asked as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “That’s the password?”
Sing a song of six pence; a pocket full of rye… One phrase was to get out, the other to get back in.
“Couldn’t figure it out?” he asked, taking a free jab at her intelligence. She felt it, and there was a very strong urge to slap her own face.
“Bloody hell…” she cursed, putting a hand to her forehead.
Brooke listened to their exchange. He said nothing.
Before them, the gate creaked open wide enough for them to pass inside and the nutcracker stepped in first. They walked through the kingdom unopposed. Dolls and stuffed things glanced at them, but went about their own business. Patrolling soldiers went on about their rounds. Anne had thought all this was terrifying once, but compared to the other things she’d seen, this was one very happy and safe place to dwell. For a toy, this was the place to be. The best thing about it for her might have been that Armand was always welcome here. With him, she had no worries.
They approached the fort of books, stopping alongside the wall of a large toy chest that was painted pink and yellow. Here, Armand stopped.
“I want the two of you to wait here.”
“Once again leaving us behind?” Anne demanded, but she wasn’t so offended this time.
“Even though you’re beneath the veil of her lenience, if the Lady Sovereign sees us together, there’s a good chance she’ll have you executed.”
Anne perked to awareness then, not quite expecting him to say that. There was a tiny smile at the corner of his lips.
“She has a jealous streak, does she?” Anne inquired, a bit pleased that Olivia might feel threatened by her. It felt like revenge for Todd’s affections.
“Ask the blind Swedish doll that looked at me for too long,” Armand replied unfeelingly. “Olivia will justify it one way or the other.”
Armand left them there, and Anne finally realized the hidden meaning in his statement. The doll had perhaps not been blind before she’d looked.
&n
bsp; Anne glanced toward Brooke who had leaned himself back against the wall of the chest. He turned his face to her when he noticed her gaze.
“Is it alright for her to love him?” she asked pointedly, brushing through her tousled hair with her fingers.
She crossed her arms cockily, giving him a skeptical look with raised eyebrows, and Brooke actually managed a smile. She was teasing him, he understood. It felt humorous. For the moment–perhaps just this once–he allowed himself to enjoy it.
3
Once again Armand found himself treading into the royal chamber of the Lady. How many more times would he come back here before she asked him to stay, and what would happen when he had to tell her no? So far, he’d been full of appropriate excuses. How long until those ran out?
More so than Anne, he needed this girl to remain calm and collected.
I have to treat Olivia like I would have treated HER. His own thought. He ignored it.
When he entered the throne room, the girl was already standing, speaking with a kneeling soldier. She’d changed her appearance again. This time, she was wearing a green dress.
Her blue eyes caught sight of him, she rushed forward.
“Armand!” she cried. He could see the worry and trepidation in those eyes, but perhaps it was an act? He couldn’t tell this time.
Olivia collided with him and buried her face in his coat. The girl was gathering herself–or perhaps waiting for him to show concern over her. Gently, he took her shoulders and held her away.
“What’s happened?” he asked, highly curiously about the news and anxious to console this young ruler as quickly as possible.
“You’ve returned just in time!” she said, staring up at him. She looked to be fighting back tears. “I’ve just gotten word that there’s been an attack on the toys in the hall. They were wrapped in boxes waiting to be saved, only to be kidnapped by rodents!”
The Christmas toys. She was truly distraught over this, he guessed. This time, her concerns were real. He squeezed her shoulders lightly, not wanting to show her too much affection but needing to ease her somehow.
“I already sent some soldiers,” she said. “Would you go as well? Would you make sure that things are taken care of?”
The look in her eyes was so pleading that he couldn’t possibly refuse. How could he? She hadn’t asked him to stay, and that was good enough not to argue against.
“I will,” he promised. “But I was not simply stopping by. I came here to tell you something very important.”
“What is it?” she inquired. He knew he had her full attention. She would take his words to heart.
For her, the sweet version.
“It was not your desire to be amongst the toys that brought you into this world,” he said, leaning down toward her a bit. “Know, Majesty, that the rodents are not only after your kingdom. They are after you.”
Olivia heard everything he said, but still, she shook her head.
“I don’t understand.”
So knowing; so innocent.
“That is alright,” he told her, standing upright once again. “Just be safe. And don’t be afraid.”
The nutcracker soldier kissed her hand, witnessing both her pleasure and her relief. Then, he turned his face away and left.
Armand was glad to be escaping, and at the same time, he hated himself for this façade. It was the same as the last time he’d left, but soon, he knew this instance of his lies would be far from his mind.
Olivia was left alone, holding the hand he’d kissed gently, still swelling with love.
4
“Did she listen to you?”
Anne’s voice greeted him when Armand came back to the spot where he’d left her with Brooke to wait. The sound floated into his right ear as he moved past her.
Better than you do, he nearly replied, but instead, decided to ignore her.
“Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” Brooke’s inquiry this time.
“The Lady has made a request,” Armand said, turning back toward the two of them who were rooted to the spot. “We’ll be going to the hall to sort through a few things.”
“Will this help us, or is this just some menial task?” Anne asked, skeptical of anything Olivia would ask for since she had placed her bidding for the cat’s eye.
Because of his own thoughts at that moment, her words made him angry. Questions. So many! He spun and walked toward her heatedly.
“When are you going to learn to stop questioning me?”
He wouldn’t have done anything when he’d gotten to her, but she would have shrunken away, perhaps, and that would be enough. If she had insisted on being bold, he would have stared her down until she relented and told him to lead on. But none of that happened. Instead, a small sound reached his ears.
That sound had come from Brooke’s sleeve. One of the blades had been extended. That soldier–he would dare to oppose him? Armand immediately forgot about his business with Anne.
“You want to fight me?” he demanded of Brooke, reaching for the screw rapier at his side.
Brooke was going to defend Anne against him? Did he not know that Anne belonged to him? How foolish. There could be an example made of him very quickly.
“Stop!” the woman demanded, standing between the two of them. “For Godsakes! Can’t have the two of you ripping each other apart. You ought to be ashamed!”
Armand felt very little shame, and Brooke would claim that he didn’t even understand the concept. The tension was so thick that either of them could have stabbed it, but then, Armand realized how
Pointless to deal with him, Armand told himself. Anything that slowed him down was a waste of time.
Without a word, and even at the risk of letting Anne think her plea had something to do with it, Armand backed down, turning away and heading toward the larger door to Olivia’s room.
5
Anne sighed as she watched him walk away, but had to admit she was relived. Whether or not he had backed down for her sake, she didn’t care. She was merely glad it was over.
Anne turned her eyes back toward Brooke. He stood there patiently, his weapon sheathed and looking like nothing had happened at all.
“I appreciate it,” she said, “but please don’t. Not with him.”
“If that satisfies you,” Brooke said easily.
The soldier with the empty brown eyes walked past her. She followed him.
6
Brooke was feeling something, though no one, not even himself, would have been able to interpret it. Armand was angry with many things, finally managing to compress them and hold them within. It could be used against his enemy later.
But Anne was feeling something else entirely. She knew what it was very well. It had an exceptionally distinct name. She and it were well–acquainted. It was Olivia’s fault that she had felt it once, but Anne never thought that the girl would be the cause of it again.
Still, the thing crept over her like the shadow of a monster. That thing was named Jealousy.
Chapter Twenty–One: Kerosene Stockings; Open Fire
1
Neither Anne nor Brooke understood why Armand had made them use the stairs instead of the shafts to get down to the first floor. Was it because he was angry with them? That would have been viable, for while the nutcracker himself moved down the drops with his long legs in a relatively easy fashion, the soldier and the woman were caught behind. Brooke didn’t have much trouble alone, but after every step he would have to stop and help Anne down. This kept them back. Armand didn’t even seem to notice. He reached the bottom long before they did.
Past the stairs, he moved out into the corridor and checked down the hallway for any threat. It was clear and silent, save for the thumps behind him as Brooke and Anne continued to work their way down to the floor.
“Do you see anything?” the woman asked from four steps above. She put her hands on Brooke’s shoulders and he supported her weight until she was on the same step as he wa
s. Then he dropped to the next.
“Nothing,” Armand said, feeling a bit baffled. They weren’t very far from the house’s entry room where Olivia had instructed them to go, and yet there were no sounds of disturbance. Had the Lady Sovereign not said that she’d sent soldiers? Perhaps they’d not gotten there yet? Or perhaps it was already over.
“I know this place.” Brooke stepped past Armand and began down the hall on his own. The nutcracker did not bother stopping him.
“Be cautious,” Armand warned, but not for the toy’s own benefit. “We’re here because of an attack. Likely rodents.”
Brooke said nothing in response. In fact, he didn’t even turn around in acknowledgement, as if he’d not heard Armand at all.
It took a short moment of standing there, but Armand suddenly realized that Anne was not there with them. Perhaps it had been an absence of her inquiries, or perhaps the missing grey gaze. He turned back toward the steps to find her, and she was–
–laying in a pool of blood that dripped down the stairs, left staring lifelessly; a ruined corpse after the dark–haired soldier had eviscerated her unfeelingly.
But no. That was not what he found. The soldier hadn’t harmed her. He had, however, forgotten to help her down from the last step. Anne was sitting on the edge of it, trying to slide herself off easily but seeming unsure. Armand knew he would have to help her.
But he didn’t want to touch her right now.
Anne looked up when he approached. He didn’t speak his intentions, but she knew what they were. She accepted his help without fuss.
Anne took his shoulders and he gathered her up, supporting her at her waist and beneath her legs. She seemed to weigh nothing, like feathers or cotton. He swung her around to set her to the ground–
