Undraland

by Mary E. Twomey

Nineteen.

  Queen Lucy the Pickpocket

  When I was told we were going to the observatory to talk to some of Uncle Rick’s friends, I assumed a handful of elves. I was startled out of my fight with Jens when forty-plus oversized people in ethereal robes stood at my brazen entrance. I shrank and plastered my hand to Jamie’s arm, allowing him to escort me to the only empty seat in the room, which was next to my uncle, facing the audience.

  The walls were painted gold, which made the gold dust that floated everywhere around us blend in seamlessly. The floor-to-ceiling tapestries were pale blue, like my dress. In fact, as I looked around at the gold chandelier, the matching chairs with blue cushioned seats, and the table in the back with a pale blue tablecloth laden with gold platters of tea and biscuits, I realized Uncle Rick had picked out my dress to match his house. I felt like a doll, and this room was my dollhouse.

  I sat on the baby blue upholstered Victorian-style couch with my back straight and hands in my lap. I had not worn many dresses, so every movement felt like it needed special attention. When I sat, so did everyone else. The lace curtains behind the heavy blue tapestries were drawn, and I was grateful I didn’t have to meet my uncle’s friends without being able to see them because of their crazy bright sun.

  Jamie stood next to the settee I was positioned in and called the room to attention with his regal stature and formal address. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to Queen Lucy of the Other Side.”

  The room stood again to show me respect, and I had no clue how to respond. My wide eyes searched the room for Britta, who dipped her head to show me what I should do.

  I gave them all a slight bow of my head, and they resumed their seats. Queen Lucy, indeed. That’ll take some getting used to.

  Jamie opened the floor for questions. Seven elves stood to address me, so Jamie took it upon himself to emcee the event. “Go ahead, Berit.”

  “Queen Lucy, are you a good representation of the height of your people, or are you unnaturally short?”

  Oh, good. Science time. “I’m smack in the middle of the spectrum,” I answered.

  Jamie called on a woman named Agnetha. She stood and stared at me with beady eyes, cataloging my every measurement. “Does she have yearly fertile moon times?”

  I quirked my eyebrow to Uncle Rick, who explained quietly to me, “She’s asking how often you menstruate.”

  My chin lowered slightly as I answered, despising that I was being subjected to this line of questioning. “Yes. Once a month.” My ears burned at having to talk about this in front of strangers. I was especially displeased that Jens was in the room. He stood at the doorway, watching the crowd and keeping tabs on my location.

  How could I have thought I was anything more than the job to him? I chided myself on never attracting a boyfriend, or I would have had more experience with male attention and known the difference between someone wanting to be around you and someone having to be.

  Ouch.

  “Your body is responding to our sun and moon, so you won’t have your normal cycle here,” Uncle Rick explained. “She does respond to the fertile moon cycle, but it will become an annual occurrence, like the women here. That has to do with her environment, not the human body, though. Next question.”

  I hated, truly hated, that my uncle was talking about my period, and apparently knew more about it than I did. Although I admit, things were looking up at the thought of only being a murderous wench once a year.

  “What’s your educational system like?” the next elf asked. Thankfully, the next two hours of questions were much like this one, and not quite so personal. I started to get some of myself back after a while, and began talking with my hands again. Uncle Rick smiled down at me, relieved that I was not so resigned. I even regained my sense of humor when someone asked about our sewer system.

  There was one person in the crowd who stood out to me. He was the only elf around my age in the whole room. The man looked to be in his mid-twenties, had black and silver eyes and watched me without movement. He was dressed in a black shirt and matching pants, and wore the same color collar around his neck like a dog. He was so still as he took in every answer, it made me fidget just being in the same room as him. When he stood slowly and with purpose to request his question be heard, I stiffened. Whatever this would be, for some reason I was nervous.

  “Charles Mace, go ahead.” Jamie turned to me. “Mace is Alrik’s ward.”

  I looked up at Uncle Rick. “Like how Robin is Bruce Wayne’s ward?”

  He nodded, smiling at my odd reference. “Indeed. He’s my son.”

  My question must have been plain on my face. Uncle Rick was black, and Charles Mace had skin like mine.

  Uncle Rick placed his hand on my shoulder. “I adopted him when he was just a baby.”

  My mouth dropped open and my stomach churned as I sat with my hands politely folded in my lap. Uncle Rick had family that wasn’t us? I looked at Charles Mace in a new light, guessing that I would probably run into this one again in the house.

  Mace did not break his penetrating gaze, nor did he blink when he spoke. Such focused attention made me itch, and I fought with the urge to scratch my neck. Every movement I made was watched by the entire room, several people scribbling on parchment every time I shifted in my seat.

  Mace cleared his throat. “Tell me about your mother and father.”

  I could feel myself pulling back. Ask about my time of the month, sure, but don’t go near the personal stuff. Iron gates slammed shut in my mind, throwing up a very secure mental block that kept me sane.

  “No,” I replied, causing a stir. “That’s specific to me, and not all humanity. I’m not here to talk about my personal life. I’m here so you can learn about humans.”

  Uncle Rick stood and raised his hands to address his friends and colleagues. “I think two hours is enough questioning for today. Are you all convinced that she is of no danger to us?”

  Danger? That’s what this was really about? I looked around and saw them nodding. I’m pretty sure I was supposed to be insulted, but really, they were right. I presented no threat to anyone.

  Uncle Rick motioned to the tea and treat table toward the back of the room. “Please help yourselves and stay as long as you like.”

  The people stood and milled around, drinking tea and eating circle-shaped purple cookies. I remained in my seat, afraid a sudden movement would restart the inquisition all over again. A few of Uncle Rick’s friends came up to me to ask more questions, waving their cookies around as they talked. I did my best to accurately represent my kind, while Jamie and Uncle Rick flanked me as if I needed filters for the crowd.

  A well-built gentleman with short brown hair cropped around his face was fifth in line. During the Q&A, he’d asked about my skill with a knife, a bow and my ability to fight off a predator. He was a little intense, with tight lips and a stern jawline, and was the only other elf besides Mace who wore pants as opposed to a Gandalf gown. He extended his hand when it was his turn to meet the human female.

  Uncle Rick did us the courtesy of introducing him. “Queen Lucy, this is Kristoffer, Head of the Elvage Guard.” The careful concealment of Uncle Rick’s usual eye-twinkle let me know the snatch and grab show needed to start.

  I fanned myself, feigning weakness from the warmth of the room that had too many bodies jammed inside. “Kristoffer? Very nice to meet you. I’m sorry, but could you ask your questions while we get some tea? That was more exhausting than I thought it would be.”

  “Of course, your majesty.” He and Jamie both extended their hands to me, but I clung only to Kristoffer’s beefy grip. When he pulled me up, I could feel which side he was favoring, and knew the pocket he had his keys stashed in. His talk was all business as we moved through the gold-dusted air. “I was hoping you could tell me more about your militia. If you’re not skilled at using a bow, what sorts of weaponry do you use?”

  Yikes. I thought it best to steer clear of talk involv
ing nuclear bombs and whatnot. “Where I come from, Queens don’t do much fighting. We have strong and handsome men like you who save the day for us, so we can live in peace.”

  His wide chest puffed out as he led me toward the table laden with refreshments, and I could tell my compliment was working its magic. “That’s as it is here, as well.”

  I smiled up at him, unleashing as much charm as I could conjure up. “Well, whataya know. We’ve got something in common after all.” I turned to face him, my hand leaving his and travelling up his forearm to trace a large vein in his bicep.

  Pickpocketing is easier than people think.

  By the time I’d given enough evasive and mildly flirty answers, I had his keys out of his pocket and palmed under a plate I picked up. I placed on it a purple cookie to have something to make the plate work as more than just a prop. The confection reeked of old lady perfume, and I couldn’t imagine it tasted much different. I was starving, but wasn’t sure perfume constituted satisfactory food.

  Kristoffer finished telling me about his plans to reinforce the cells in the dungeon, and I held up a finger to pause him. “I have something I think you’ll want to see. Plans for a similar revamp of our prisons. I think I left it in my bag. Will you excuse me? I’ll be right back.”

  His business-like demeanor had long since cracked. He waved his fingers at me, his thin lips grinning as I walked away.

  I escaped to the hallway and darted down another to make sure I was alone. I slipped into a room I assumed was an office, judging by the bookshelf, desk and lack of anything else to distract from studying. I set down my plate on the desk and fumbled with the key ring, trying to remove the black one without making too much noise.

  Jens found me just as I slid the key Uncle Rick needed off the ring. I closed the loop back up, doing my best to ignore Jens’s fuming at my side. “What do you think you’re doing? You really think it’s a good idea to go throwing yourself at the first bodybuilder you see? I got news for you, Loos. Everyone here’s in good shape. We’re all farmers and craftsman.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing,” I simpered, shoving the black key down the front of my dress and tucking it into my bra.

  “What the… What are you doing?” he asked, stepping back to watch for anyone who might intrude on the privacy I still needed.

  “I’m working. But good to know you think I’m a ditz who’ll go for the first guy who pays me the time of day.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I know you’re not a ditz, but you were throwing yourself at Kristoffer. He’s not your type.”

  “I know he’s not.” I looked up at Jens’s surly mug and took a step forward to close the gap between our bodies. “You are.” Just as he’d done in the room upstairs, I leaned in and inhaled near a sensitive spot on his neck.

  The man smells like sugar cookies. You can’t not love that.

  “We can’t do this,” he protested. The fight was weak, and I could smell a victory to go with my cookie.

  I saw goose bumps erupt on his neck as I pressed my lips to his jugular, pulling him closer as my fist dug into the fabric at his chest.

  Jens moaned, his hands pressing against the wall on either side of my head as I planted small, sensual kisses up his throat, dragging my lips from side to side across his jaw. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted. “You have no idea how much I…”

  His eyes were closed, and he was leaning into me, while still bracing himself so he did not fall for me completely. It was a beautiful thing, the moments before his crash and burn.

  I almost felt bad when I pulled away and ducked out from under the cocoon of his arms. Jens stumbled forward, nearly slamming his head into the wall. He righted himself as he fought to emerge from his haze.

  “That,” I spat. “That’s what you did to me upstairs. Lame move, right? Don’t you for one second think you can mess with me and get away with it.” I picked the plate and cookie up off the desk and spun on my heel, walking back into the observatory, ignoring his angry shouts in my direction.

  The keys were palmed under the plate as I approached Kristoffer, fake smile plastered in place. “I’m so sorry. I thought I had the plans on me, but I must’ve left them back home.”

  I set the plate down, keeping the keys tucked in my hand. To distract him while I placed the keys back inside his pocket, I touched his opposite arm again with my free hand. Pickpocketing has a lot to do with counterpoints. If you’re going for the left pocket, draw attention to the right arm. You’re welcome.

  “Do you forgive me?” I asked, blinking up at him.

  “Of course, your majesty.” He smiled, completely unaware that the light cough I was faking as I turned my head to the side was to hide any noise the keys might make as they shifted in his pocket.

  I pointed to the people congregating around the couch, waiting for me to return. “I guess this is where we say goodbye. Thank you, Kristoffer.”

  He escorted me back to the pale blue settee, and I sat with my hands folded in my lap and a key poking the underside of my right breast.

  Jens stalked into the room and sulked near the back, glaring at me as he watched Kristoffer like a hawk.

  Charles Mace stared at me without blinking as he waited in the line. The nearer he got to me, the more nervous I became. His gaze was so intense, I wanted to hide from it. He seemed an outsider to the others. Most treated the space he took up as uninhabited, but it didn’t seem to bother him. I was his only concern, and every now and then his fingers twitched as if he meant to reach out toward me. For what? I don’t know. I addressed every other possible person until Mace was standing directly in front of me, daring me to look away from his silver irises.

  I visibly backed up, my stranger danger alert beeping ominously. His lips pursed as if holding back an onslaught of questions.

  Jens postured and moved closer to me, sizing up the threat Mace presented. I turned and glared at my guardian gnome until he backed away.

  Mace did not notice anything in the room, except for me. His was not a romantic gaze, but a calculating stare. “I have questions for you.”

  Uncle Rick answered for me. “You’ll have plenty of time for that over dinner tonight. Right now, we have guests, so keep it light, son.”

  Mace nodded, still not looking away from me. “Will you be living here with Alrik?”

  “I have no idea,” I responded, my voice growing mousy in his intimidating presence. “I just woke up here.”

  Uncle Rick answered for me again. “Lucy will stay here with me as long as she likes.”

  Mace’s angular jaw tightened. “Good.” He looked like he was struggling with himself. His volume dropped to a whisper. “We’ll have much to talk about over dinner, then. I’m one-quarter human, but I’ve only known Elvage. I would love to know more about where I came from.”

  “Oh, sure. I’ll tell you all about it.” I was glad to know the source of his intensity. It made him give off less of a serial killer vibe in my mind.

  When Mace seemed satisfied that I would not bolt if he took his eyes off me, he excused himself and exited the observatory. Jens followed him to the door and watched him disappear down the hall.