She was alone.
Athel chewed on her thumbnail nervously. She could almost hear Alder’s voice correcting the unladylike habit, but she ignored it, spitting out the piece of nail and gnawing on a fresh one. She was the queen now. Everyone looked to her to see them through this, but she was without rudder or sail. Nothing like this had ever happened before.
“I don’t know what to do…”
A gentle knock on the door startled her out of her fear.
Athel wiped off her brow with her sleeve and scooped up her staff. At her command, a little rootlet grew up from the floor and grabbed the discarded bit of fingernail, pulling it down into the wood below.
“You may enter,” Queen Forsythia announced formally.
The guards parted the living wood from without, and Alder came in, carrying the freshly cleaned newborn close to his heart in clean white sheets. He stumbled a little, as if he were dizzy, but managed to make it over to her. His shoulders were narrow and bony, his back a little slouched, but the way his eyes bathed the baby with a gentle and pure love made him handsome beyond words.
“I have finished the purification rites,” he announced proudly. Just looking at him made her feel a little better.
“Thank you, Aldi,” she said gently.
Ryin was the next to enter, his short dusty hair catching for a second on a low hanging branch. He swatted it away as best he could, but the branch angrily swatted him back.
“Ouch. Well, this has been quite a morning,” he complained, plunging a finger into his ear to fish out a piece of stray wax. “I’ve never heard five thousand Wysterians scream before. You people even blare in unison.”
The Queen stood up, her long flowing dress clinging to her like delicate flower pedals. “Of course they were shocked. Only women are born from the trees. It has always been that way. What just happened is not possible.”
Captain Evere came in next and placed a strong hand on Alder’s shoulder. His wife Mina joined alongside him, her long white tail flicking about. “Clearly it is, lass.”
The Queen’s shoulders relaxed a little. Her subjects were so deferential around her, so careful in their speech. It was refreshing to have someone simply speak their mind. It made her feel a little bit normal again, if only for a moment. “Indeed, but this is most troubling. A man being born from the trees defies every scrap of scripture we still have.”
Ryin snickered. “Yeah, the baby really should have double-checked the canon before being born.”
Dr. Griffin entered next, wheezing from exertion, his aged grey ponytail sticking to the back of his sweaty wrinkled neck. “Are you sure it’s a boy?”
Everyone turned to glare at him.
“What?” he defended, straightening his oily, stained smock. “I’m a doctor, I ask questions. It’s what I do. Maybe we should double check.”
Captain Evere pinched his black eyes. “All right, man. I’ll go ask if the baby prefers hunting or dolls.”
Dr. Griffin brightened up. “That’s a good idea; you could use your Tomani magic to…”
“Of course we’re sure he’s a boy, you bald twit! You don’t think we’d notice his twig and berries!” Evere barked, cowing the old man into a corner.
Ryin snorted in laughter.
The newborn stirred at the noise.
“I would ask all of you to please keep your voices down,” Alder bade as he prepared a bottle from the supplies in his bag, filling it with an amber-colored liquid. “The baby is trying to sleep.”
Queen Athel softened as she looked down upon her child. His perfect little head, his clear and soft skin. His tiny dusting of light brown hair with just a hint of red highlights. When the little one reached up and rubbed his cheek sleepily, all of her fears and doubts melted away.
Setting aside her staff, she sat down on the bench next to her husband, and placed her arms around him and the child. “You’re right, Alder, of course,” she said, her voice now soft and feminine. “This is our child; that is all that really matters.”
She lowered her face and gave their son a gentle kiss on the head. The smell, the wonderful smell of a clean newborn washed over her. It filled her mind and her heart, more powerful than any magic ever could. It was the scent of family.
As she sat back up, she caught a glimpse of Alder smiling at her. The adoration in his eyes, the solemn love he showed her, without condition and without reserve. It made her feel richer than any amount of gold ever could. She leaned over and gave Alder a loving kiss, the sensation lingering on her lips long after they parted.
As Alder stroked the nipple of the bottle against the baby’s tiny little lips, the baby arched back, and gave off an adorable little sneeze.
Everyone could not help but coo at it.
She felt like crying tears of joy, but her eyes remained dry. Already she had grown so used to suppressing her emotions, they didn’t always switch back on again, even when she wanted them to. “You know, in a weird way, I am a little relieved he is a boy,” she admitted, stroking his beautiful little head as he drank his Hai’i Milia Carminie sap from the royal tree.
“How so?” Ryin asked, poking at a gemstone mounted in the throne to see if it was real.
The Queen looked around to make sure no other Wysterian was in earshot. She looked up at Mina and Captain Evere, a little reluctant to share her doubts, but their reassuring faces let her know she could speak freely without fear of judgment.
“I was afraid,” Athel admitted. “So afraid that she would have to be trained and prepared to take the throne one day like I was.”
Everyone looked at her sympathetically.
Finally a tear broke through, and rolled down her cheek. Athel wiped it off, smearing some of her makeup. “I thought she would hate me for it, like I resented my mother.”
Athel leaned over and gave the baby another gentle kiss. His skin was so wonderfully soft. “It was tearing me apart, to think that this perfect little person would grow up to hate me. Now, I don’t have to worry about that.”
Alder looked concerned.
Captain Evere placed a strong hand on her shoulder. Mina leaned in and gave her a quick little hug. “Oh, sweetie, you shouldn’t beat yourself up like that. You’re a momma today; this is a time to celebrate.”
“I know,” Athel sniffed, “but I can’t help feeling that way, and there’s no one I can talk to about these things.”
“Except us,” Mina reassured tenderly.
Athel put her hand on top of Mina’s. “Yes, except you.” She looked around at her friends gratefully. “I’m so glad I have you guys, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m surrounded by people all day…but sometimes I feel so alone.”
Alder’s consternation boiled over, and he could hold his tongue no longer. “My Queen, forgive my impertinence, but surely you don’t mean to strip away our child’s birthright?”
Athel was a little stunned at the suggestion. “Well…yeah, I mean, it’s not like he can inherit the throne. The law says…”
Alder gently shook his head. “The law says that the first child born of the Queen’s tree shall be her heir.”
“Well, yes, of course it says it that way. Obviously when it was written the possibility of a male being born of the trees wasn’t even considered.”
Alder tilted his head. “Do we know that?”
Athel opened her mouth to correct him, but a knock at the door interrupted her. She quickly scrambled to compose herself, and redonned the mantle of queen. Mina pulled out her compact and touched up her makeup for her.
There was another knock at the door, lighter this time. The wood parted and a white-haired woman stepped in, the bells on her long sacramental robes rattling about.
“Athel Forsythia, you are my Queen,” High Priestess Oleander greeted her formally with a deep, respectful bow.
“Kerria Oleand
er, you are my High Priestess,” The Queen received her gallantly.
The High Priestess looked a little concerned, shy even. “Please forgive me for intruding during this private moment. I know this has been an exhausting day for you.”
The Queen nodded thankfully.
“…however we are in quite a pickle here. By law, I am supposed to anoint your firstborn to the throne, graft a strand of Milia’s hair into her seed before it is planted, draw water from the sacred spring to make it sprout, and a dozen other things. Only now…”
“Yes, we were just discussing the same thing,” The Queen acknowledged.
Oleander became furtive, as if something was bothering her.
The Queen tilted her head and studied the aged woman with her hazel eyes. “You knew?” she intuited.
The High Priestess nodded. “Forgive me for prying into your privacy like this.”
Ryin perked up. “She heard us? How?”
“The trees are always listening,” came a strong voice from a corner. Everyone turned to the source, where Privet stood, leaning up against the wall. He was a stallion of a man. Tall and broad, his body covered with a layer of rippling muscles that was beyond generous. There was a tension in his frame, like a bent bow ready to loose at a moment’s notice, yet he seemed as calm as a summer’s day.
“Whoa, how long has he been there?” Ryin asked, dumbfounded.
“He’s been there the whole time,” Alder affirmed.
“You Wysterian men are pretty light on your feet, aren’t you?”
“We have to be,” Privet commented.
Dr. Griffin looked at the living wood around them ominously. “The trees are…listening?”
“Queen Forsythia calmly rested her hands atop her staff. “The royal tree must have been relaying our words to her. Normally, she respects my privacy quite a bit more than this,” she noted, casting an icy glance at the nearest wall.
“Please do not blame her; she was only following my orders,” the High Priestess explained, taking half a step back. “As Defender of the Faith, it is my responsibility to root out any disloyalty.”
Mina was outraged. “You mean, after everything she has done to save this island, you still don’t trust her?”
The old woman held up her creamy, wrinkled hands. “Please, do not misunderstand me. Queen Forsythia saved this forest. She saved all of us from certain death. She has our admiration, our loyalty, even our love. But, much of her behavior is…strange.”
Mina looked at her, slack-jawed. “W-what? That doesn’t make any sense. You trust her, and you spy on her? Those are like, opposite things!”
The High Priestess took another step back, becoming flustered at the pressure Mina was putting on her.
Queen Forsythia raised up a hand to calm the situation. “What the High Priestess means is that not even the Queen can change the law. It was written by the hand of Milia herself. If the Queen were to violate Milia’s will, she would be deposed. I believe that her intention was to watch out for me. To make sure I didn’t get too close to crossing the line. To protect me, in a way.”
Oleander looked relieved. “Yes, thank you.”
“Protect you from what?” Hanner asked as he entered, being forced to turn sideways to allow his massive gorilla-like arms to slip through the doorway; his son Strenner strapped to his chest in a leather carrier Alder had made for him. Margaret followed him in mousily, her large glasses slipping down to the bridge of her nose.
Queen Forsythia waited for the door to close before she answered. “Keeping such close confidence with people from other islands skirts dangerously close to creating a conflict of interest.”
Ryin, Mina, Hanner, Margaret, and Evere looked at each other worriedly. “Wait, you mean us?”
“Suppose war was to break out between my people and yours. My feelings towards you would become a liability to the forest. The law requires me to fight her enemies without hesitation.”
Mina grew concerned. “You would do that?”
The Queen slowly shook her head. “I would find another way. That is what I have always done.”
They were relieved to hear this.
“I was hoping that by naming Evere and Mina as Maar’i ota’a ann’i to my child, it would assuage any fears my kin might have towards them; but clearly that was not enough.”
“Wait, is that why you did it?” Hanner groused, snatching an apple off a hanging branch and swallowing it whole.
The Queen gave off a faint smile. “Of course not. I would never use my child for political advancement. I named them as spirit parents to my firstborn because I wanted them to be, and for no other reason.”
She turned and looked at them gently. “There is no one I trust more than my friends.”
Alder nodded in agreement.
Mina placed her furry white hands over her heart, looking like she might melt. Even Captain Evere was moved, but tried to hide it by scratching his grey mutton-chops nervously.
The High Priestess smiled. “My Queen. I may not be able to understand your fondness for these filthy foreigners…”
“Hey!” Hanner protested as he scratched his armpit, bits of dirt falling out.
“…but I do not have to understand it to tolerate it. I will no longer object to the captain and his wife joining your household, but surely the others must limit their access to you.”
Queen Forsythia rested her hands atop her staff thoughtfully. “Perhaps I could appoint Ryin, Margaret and Hanner as special consultants to assist me with the navy. That is certainly something they can do.”
“I can?” Ryin asked vapidly, only to be smacked in the back of the head by Mina. “I mean…of course I can. Yeah, totally. I was just kidding.”
“If I have to shower, I ain’t doing it,” Hanner warned.
“Ooh, I bet I could count this as an internship for extra credits back at the university,” Margaret gushed, jumping up and down with excitement, her glasses nearly falling off.
The High Priestess seemed to accept this only reluctantly. “And…the other one?”
Everyone turned to look at Dr. Griffin, who was rubbing his cheek against the seat of the throne. “Ohh, I can still feel how warm it is,” he drooled to himself. “Even the warmth from your backside has a special royal feel to it…”
The Queen’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. “We still have a great many people who are suffering the plague brought on by the Shikyappu mushrooms. I feel his skills for now would be better served in the halls of healing.”
Without a word, the Queen gave the command and the wood parted, allowing a pair of guards in. They snatched the dirty old man up and yanked him away from the throne.
“Hey, wait! I didn’t get a chance to sniff it yet!” Dr. Griffin struggled with his wiry old limbs.
Margaret dropped her face in her hands. “He’s so gross.”
“Wait, Athel, let me be a part of your staff too!” Dr. Griffin yelled as the guards pulled him towards the exit. “I still haven’t found out what they wear underneath those armored dresses!”
“And you’re not going to find out, pig,” one of the guards spat, twisting his arm.
“Ouch! Hey, I’ve helped you tons! Athel, remember when I removed the afet from your body? You would have remained a brainwashed maid without me.”
At her wordless command the guards paused. The Queen stepped forward, her long train of living roses trailing decorously behind her.
Ignoring the smell of his stained lab coat, she leaned in and whispered. “Do you also remember when you put me in that immodest outfit and made me dance for hours?”
Dr. Griffin grinned lewdly. “Yeah…”
Queen Forsythia stood back up. “Take him away.”
“Awwww!” Dr. Griffin pouted as he was dragged into the corridor beyond.
“I won’t miss him,” M
argaret commented. “I think he was stealing my underwear.”
“Make sure he is assigned to male patients only,” The Queen added.
“How dare you! I don’t want to treat hairy, sweaty men!” Dr. Griffin hollered through his yellow teeth as the doors snapped shut.
The air became very awkward in the silence that followed. Mina looked over at the High Priestess apologetically. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I suppose we’re not doing a very good job of convincing you that foreigners are trustworthy.
“Indeed,” Oleander said, trying to comport herself as best she could. “Which brings us back to the main reason for my visit. I have discussed the matter with the other priestesses, and we feel that the best solution to all of this is to turn the baby over to us.”
“To you?” Evere repeated sternly.
“Yes, the church will decide his fate.”
“Excuse me, High Priestess, but his fate was decided from the moment he was born,” Alder stated, quite boldly for him, standing up on wobbly legs as he shielded the newborn from her.
“He is the first born of the Queen’s tree,” Alder said to his wife, his eyes pleading. “Athel, he should be raised in the Forsythia household.”
Oleander tried to conceal her affront. “Know your place, Mister Forsythia. You may not address your Queen so casually.”
Mina raised an eyebrow. “Why not? I mean, he’s her husband. That makes him the king, right?”
Oleander brought her hands up to suppress a scoff.
Alder shook his head. “No, I am what is known as a royal consort. My daughters will be royal, but I will never be.”
Mina threw up her arms. “Ugh, this island is so messed up.”
“It’s like, the opposite of where I grew up,” Margaret said sadly.
Hanner plucked another apple and threw it down his gullet. “You Wysterians talk too much. If the law says anoint the brat, then anoint the brat.”
The High Priestess ignored him and stepped closer, dropping her voice to the lowest of whispers. “Please, my Queen. You know the hearts of the Matrons. They will not stand for this. The entire forest would revolt if we proceed with the anointment.”
Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles Page 2
