The Queen Revealed

by A. R. Winterstaar

  Lady Olivia saw Adele’s eyes glaze over as she recited her pedigree and smiled. “It doesn’t really matter! Anyway, I was working as her lady-in-waiting for just two weeks before I met you at the Coronation ball and you invited me to apply for the position of dress designer in your entourage.”

  Adele scrunched her forehead, trying to remember actually doing that. “I did, did I?”

  “Oh, yes, Your Majesty. You said you needed help with your Unisian fashion sense, and you liked my dress, the purple one?” Lady Olivia didn’t seem to mind Adele’s confusion. “I took my portfolio and approached Mrs. Ollenby for the job. She is quite a formidable lady and I was so nervous in the interview. I believe you hadn’t mentioned our previous conversation, so I had quite a bit of convincing to do, let me tell you.” Lady Olivia giggled. “But I won her over in the end!”

  “Well, I’m glad you did,” said Adele firmly, putting any doubts to rest. “Now I’ve got someone to help me with all of those massive gowns that were sent from the palace. Not all of them were your choice I imagine.”

  Lady Olivia laughed and the sound reverberated around the room. “Are you thinking of that hideous pink one with the puffy roses across the shoulders?”

  “I am,” nodded Adele with a grimace.

  Both women laughed in easy comradery.

  “I’ll fix it for you I promise, Your Majesty.”

  Just then Aaron started dancing a little jig and chewing his bottom lip in what Adele called his “Wee Dance”. “Sweetie, do you need to go?” she asked him and sighed at his vigorous headshake. Why did her son always have to deny his need to go to the bathroom?

  “I’ll take him, Your Majesty,” offered Lady Olivia, getting up and taking the little boy’s hand in her own. “We’ll be back in just a moment, won’t we, Aaron?”

  Adele settled back in her armchair. It was so rare for her to be left alone with just her daughters for company these days and she soaked up the moment of peace before someone came in to ask something of her or insist on her leaving the girls with their nannies.

  The girls were happily tracing patterns from the carpet onto sheets of paper with pencils, and Adele was relieved to see Natalie sharing so nicely with her baby sister. Looking out the bay window Adele could see the roses in full bloom climbing over the walls and mossy stone of the outside courtyard. It was so pretty here at Belvoir Estate. The shade of the trees outside sheltered the room from the worst of the afternoon sun and the open windows let in a cool breeze. The room was so private and quiet that as the girls fell silent, concentrating on their work, Adele could hear the murmuring of male voices, outside her window in the courtyard.

  “What do you think would have happened, General?” asked Captain Lucky, his voice was soft, but his tone so serious that Adele couldn’t help but focus on it.

  “If she had lost the child? I think we might have lost her as our Queen,” replied Ohrig and Adele froze at his words. “Didn’t you find it just a bit odd Captain, that the Queen would bring her children to Sandar and then be so happy to keep them at the Grey Palace, instead of the Golden Palace? I have been thinking that perhaps there is something she knows about the Wizards at the Golden Palace that she is not telling us. Something that makes her afraid to leave her children alone without her there.”

  “But the Wizards are the ones that put her on the throne in the first place,” argued Lucky. “Surely High Wizard Ohren has only her best interests at heart…”

  “Best interests? Or perhaps he is holding her there against her will,” suggested Ohrig drily. “Have you ever met a more reluctant monarch than our little Queen, Lucky?”

  “I hadn’t met any Queens at all until Queen Adelena, General,” said Lucky. “But are you suggesting that the Wizard Ohren might have threatened her children as a means of making sure Queen Adelena sits on the throne and does what he tells her too, which is why she takes them everywhere with her?”

  “In a word.” And Adele could imagine the General’s sardonic smile, even as he spoke. He always looked like that when someone surprised him.

  “Yes, it had occurred to me too,” replied Lucky, and Adele could hear his frown in the words as he spoke them. “And I think you are right, there is something that we do not know about why she was brought here from her world and made Queen. Something that has to do with the Wizards maintaining their stranglehold on the power of Unisia.”

  “Exactly. In fact, I have heard rumors…” answered the General, but Adele heard no more as Lady Olivia came back into the room with Aaron.

  “Your Majesty, I hate to disturb you, but it’s time we started getting ready for the ball tonight.”

  Unfortunately, Adele couldn’t feel less like dancing, as the words of Ohrig and Lucky flitted about her head. They thought she had lied to them?

  Adele was shocked it had never occurred to her to ask Ohrig about the Prophecy of the End of the World. He was obviously smart enough to question her exalted appointment to Queen by the High Wizard, and he had a clear mistrust of those in charge of the Court of the Golden Palace, she had picked up on that before.

  But could she trust him?

  If Adele revealed herself, her real worries and fears, to Ohrig, could she trust that he wouldn’t go running back to Ohren and tell tales about her as a terrible Queen? She hadn’t told Ohrig what had happened in the Holy Cave of Sandar or the truth about Ripenzo Shale. Would he be angry or frightened of her? Would he join the awful Lord Orgustus in wanting her deposed?

  Her life, and those of her children, would depend on whether or not he could be relied upon to protect her if the High Wizard should turn on her, or even if she should marry someone he hated, like the Marchant Prince. Was General Ohrig really her man? Or was he the Kingdom’s?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Footsteps in the Night”

  Grotto paced the floor of his little office deep in the bowels of the Grey Palace. He had no windows in the room and only two green-flamed lanterns, turned down low, perched on the shelf above his desk. His eyes preferred the dim lighting as the sunshine of this morning had given him a nasty headache. Though he was too distracted now to even register the distant sound of the thousand clocks chiming the Twilight hour as it swelled through the palace.

  “Master, my poor Master,” muttered Grotto to himself as he paced the few feet of his office one way and then back again. “What madness this Abomination has caused in him.”

  Grotto kicked his foot against the wall and knocked the covered object leaning there. The coarse sheet fell off the golden frame of a large portrait.

  “This is all your fault you know!” hissed Grotto at the painting of Rainere’s wayward father, Prince Rainold. “If you hadn’t been so obsessed with your own lust then that monster would never have hurt the little Prince. She damaged his wits that night! And she gave him a taste for her special brand of agony.” Grotto gave the priceless frame another kick, but was careful not to touch the painting itself.

  Prince Rainold grinned back at him, his expression one of cocky self-assurance. His young face was unlined and his smile was open, as if he had just finished laughing. Nothing he had done in the past could hurt him now.

  “Bah!” spat Grotto in disgust and covered up the portrait with its sheet again. He couldn’t stand even the painted gaze of the Prince on him, mocking his anger and his efforts to save the young Prince Rainere from a fate worse than death.

  Grotto returned to his pacing but a quiet knock at the door made him freeze. No one disturbed him in his office. Ever. He pulled the heavy wooden door open and cast his eyes about the quiet hallway but no one was there. Shutting the door again, he turned back to the interior of his room and folded his arms.

  “Schiss, that better be you,” he snapped.

  The little man-Spider appeared before him with a squelchy pop, and immediately cringed into a bow. “Mr. Grottonski, I’ve just got back from the Nest this very minute.” He looked up to gauge Grotto’s mood. “I had no trouble getting out, but had
to watch myself in the daylight hours. The sun was out in the Dark Forest and the ravens were hunting. The Human search parties were still in the forest too looking for the Royal Family.”

  Grotto waved his hand to silence Schiss’s prattling. “What of the Empress? How did she receive the news that the Queen was in the Grey Palace?”

  “The Empress was very pleased,” replied Schiss, but shuddered at the memory of his mother’s malevolent joy with the news. “But she told me to caution the Prince that she would require proof of a wedding, not just the Queen’s word that they were married. When I told her that you would call a priest she was happy.”

  Schiss shifted from foot to foot nervously. He had relayed all the information he had been given to Mr. Grottonski but still the man glared at him.

  “We have bad news, Schiss,” said Grotto, and Schiss flinched at his tone. “Unfortunately, the Prince has let the Queen leave the grounds of the Palace and go to the cursed lands of Belvoir Estate. They left this morning and the Prince himself is planning to go after them as soon as he can.”

  Grotto thought of the Prince. He had left him only a few hours ago, lying on the couch in the Clinic Room taking in The Gift. He hadn’t stayed to watch after helping Rainere hook up the needle to his arm, but he hoped that Rainere was taking as much of the Gift in as he could possibly tolerate. Grotto needed his Master strong for the conclusion of the Prophecy.

  “But I’ve told the Empress that there will be a wedding, Mr. Grottonski,” stammered Schiss. “She will be very angry if the Prince breaks his word to her, maybe worse than angry. The Council in the Nest will want her to take revenge.”

  “Yes, revenge,” mused Grotto and headed for his desk, reaching it in a few short strides. He pulled out a fresh scroll and a pen filled with ink. “I think I heartily agree with your Mother this time, Schiss. She must remember that this Queen is the woman who so heartlessly killed her son, Oki. And that this Queen is the woman who will be able to bend the Prince to her own will after they are married. Perhaps this St. Lucidis Queen will decide not to honor the Prophecy after all, and will keep your people in the dark in the Under Lands. Wouldn’t that be just terrible after all the kindnesses that the Empress has shown the Marchant Prince?”

  Schiss felt his mouth fall open in shock. Surely the good Queen Adelena would let the Spider People walk free again?

  “I find it only prudent to warn the Empress that the Queen has left the grounds of the Grey Palace,” muttered Grotto and Schiss wasn’t sure the manservant was talking to him anymore. “After all, the Prince is in no fit state to communicate with her. It is my solemn duty as his servant to help my Master in keeping his sworn oath to obey the Empress in all things. It is the Queen who is fighting the conclusion of the Prophecy, and it is she who will pay if she doesn’t keep her word to my Master. The Empress deserves to keep that false Queen for herself if our little Abomination can’t keep her hands off my Prince’s power. My Master may have to marry her, but he won’t have to…”

  The old manservant wrote furiously on the scroll, breaking the nib of one pen and grabbing another, all the while growling to himself. He finished the letter with a flourish and grinned ghoulishly at Schiss, who had backed up to cower by the door.

  “Here, Schiss, take this to your Mother tonight. She must be kept informed of every development. But be careful and hurry back. I wish to hear how she takes this news of Queen Adelena’s latest foolishness.” He thrust the letter at Schiss.

  Schiss took the letter and backed out of Grotto’s office without a word. He had the clear feeling that Grottonski didn’t like the good Queen Adelena and it worried him that the manservant was so insistent that the Empress know that the Queen had gone to Belvoir. This could only go badly for the Queen with his mother.

  But surely Grottonski wouldn’t take from his Master the Queen that he loved so much. Grottonski didn’t have that power. Did he?

  Schiss hardened his frail courage and made a brave decision. He found his way to the upper floors of the Grey Palace with long- practiced ease, though his nerves made him trip and stumble. Schiss stayed in his Human form to knock upon the Prince’s door, but he heard no answer over the sound of his own wheezing. He knocked again and held his breath. Nothing. Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Schiss clenched his fists and disappeared.

  Opening his eyes again Schiss looked around where he had appeared in the corner of the Prince’s room, but Prince Rainere was nowhere to be seen. Schiss sighed with disappointment. He supposed he would have to search the Palace now, but then he would run the risk of bumping into Grottonski again, who would ask him why he hadn’t left for the Nest yet. Maybe the canny old man would even guess that Schiss was looking for the Prince to warn him of what the manservant was up to. Schiss shivered at what would be done to him if that happened. These Humans could be as cruel as Spiders

  Perhaps he could leave a note? Though it would have to be somewhere only the Prince could find it. Schiss wandered over to the Prince’s bedside table where he saw a pile of papers. Picking one up he saw the face of the Queen staring back at him, a knowing smile playing on her lips, her dress draped low over her chest and her long hair swirling over a shoulder.

  Schiss almost gasped in delight at the likeness. Here she was, his very own Queen, wrought in carbon and paper but so detailed he felt as if she might speak at any moment. Schiss pressed his thin lips to the portrait in his hands and then quickly folded it into the smallest square that he could and jammed it into his inside pocket next to the letter that Grottonski had given him. What a treasure he had found!

  A noise at the door made Schiss jump a mile and fear decided his next choice. Running for the window, Schiss transformed with a squelchy pop, squeezed out of a crack in the window frame, and threw himself into the darkness beyond.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “The Swirling Pain of Power”

  Adele smiled tightly at the rousing applause in response to her little speech. She hated being back at Court for this reason alone. Standing at the center of attention, for all to stare and clap at while she, in turn, watched them nudge each other and talk about her. It was just horrible. What she wouldn’t give for a quiet night tucked in bed with a hot cup of tea, or better yet, Rainere. The idea almost made her smile, until she remembered what had happened the last time she had had Rainere in her bed.

  She hoped he got her note soon. He had to know how sorry she was and how much she wanted to be with him. She had left him so suddenly and there had been no time to plan their next meeting. It made her ill to think about how long they might be apart this time, really ill. In fact, Adele felt a swell of nausea rock her empty stomach and had to grab Bertie’s arm to steady herself.

  “Ready to dance, Your Majesty?” asked the rosy Prince. The sun and a liberal amount of beer had turned Prince Bertrand into a young man again, and he swung Adele firmly into the circle of dancers without waiting for her answer. A band of twelve musicians with drums and guitars played a rousing rhythm with a strong beat, and the dance floor was soon full of swirling bodies.

  Luckily the steps of the dance were simple and repetitive and Adele had to do no more than follow her partners as she was pulled about the floor until she was too tired and thirsty to follow anymore. Grabbing a respite, Adele threw herself into a wicker chair under a tree covered in twinkling lights and caught her breath.

  The Belvoirs definitely knew how to throw a party. It was far more rustic than a ball at the Golden Palace, but it was also a lot more fun. A large flat area of the garden had been laid with a wooden dance floor, and above their heads, hundreds of strings of fairy lights made a glittering canopy. (Adele knew they had some form of electricity at the Manor but wasn’t sure how it all worked yet). Cheerful servants in bright green vests circled the party with trays of red wine and golden beer. A buffet of food provided dinner and long trestle tables, decorated with fat white candles and fragrant flowers, had been set up under the trees next to the dance floor. There, guests could res
t their feet and eat as much as they liked of the roast duck, dozens of different kinds of salad, fresh fruit tarts, and bowls of pink custard flavored with rosewater. Adele was tempted to eat something, but her stomach had been sensitive all day and she didn’t want to risk it with all the dancing she was required to do.

  Adele wasn’t left alone for long as Lady Olivia soon joined her along with several of the younger ladies of Prince Bertie’s court. The young women favored a green punch that tasted of limes and hit hard only after Adele had drunk two of them. Her head was swimming unpleasantly and the gossiping and giggling soon began to get on her tired nerves. However, escaping the party proved to be more difficult than Adele first thought as she ducked and pulled away from the dancing groups who wanted her to join them. To avoid saying ‘No, sorry!’ again, Adele found herself wandering off the path around the dance floor and entering the trees. She thought she knew the way through the dark garden to the kitchen entrance at the rear of the manor but in the dark she took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up by the side of the garden sheds. She stepped into an alleyway lit only by a few lanterns and tried to get her bearings despite the buzzing in her head.

  A high-pitched giggle and a deeper voice whispering alerted her to the couple she had almost stepped on.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” stammered Adele embarrassed as she tried to avert her eyes in time not to notice that the girl’s skirts were ruched up to her waist or where the man’s hands were.

  “Your Majesty!” the girl shrieked and wrenched herself away from her boyfriend.

  Adele squinted in the dim light. “Siobahn?”

  “Oh Goddess, I’m so sorry Your Majesty! Oh Goddess, oh Goddess!” whimpered Siobahn as she furiously straightened her clothing. “I’m so humiliated. I am so sorry.”