[Death's Queen 01.0] Death's Queen

by Janeal Falor

  “I am Yuka, Your Highness. I am Head of the Arts.” Her sleek black hair is pulled into an elaborate bun, letting her green eyes stand out.

  Is she the reason there are portraits of landscapes everywhere?

  “I'm Borkus, Your Highness, of the house of Prenton. Head of Design.” He has a wide forehead and bulging lips.

  “And what do you do?” I ask.

  “I am over the court's clothing. I set trends and styles.”

  There's someone I should fire. Too much poof and layers. A thin pair of slacks suits me fine. I focus on the next person. The thinnest man here, though filled with muscles.

  “I am Jaku, Head of the Guard, Your Majesty.” His voice is deep.

  “You're the one who has to answer for the attacks on my life,” I say.

  He hesitates. “Eh…yes. I suppose I am.”

  I purse my lips and tap them with a finger. I could rail at him for letting the assassins through, but perhaps it's best not to do that in front of others. When I turn my attention away from him, I see him out of the corner of my eye, letting out a great exhale.

  “I am Kada, Head of Relations with the Queen, Your Majesty.” Though she's sitting, she appears short, with her blonde hair barely reaching Jaku's shoulder.

  Another lackluster performance. There's been almost no communication between the palace government and me up until this point. And I called this meeting. What is it with these people? “Why have you not called a meeting sooner?”

  Her gaze darts to Ranen and back to me. “I… uh… thought you didn't want a meeting.”

  I didn't, but that’s not her or Ranen’s decision to make. “In the future, you will communicate directly with me or Nash,” I say.

  Kada gives an eager nod. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  I focus on the next councilwoman.

  “I am Monkia. Head of Staff, Your Highness,” the older woman with gray hairs blending with her dark hair says.

  “And I am Nidon, Your Majesty. Head of Food and Commerce.” His weight rivals that of the triple-chin man.

  Another person who needs to be replaced with someone who can better accomplish the job. Though the famine is over, food isn't properly distributed. I didn’t have enough on the streets, though that might be my own doing since I was avoiding taking care of myself properly.

  “Your Majesty, I am Sidle. Head of Military.” He reminds me of Daros—thick, yet there's the impression of hidden muscles.

  I'll be avoiding him.

  In the middle of the group at the other side of the room is a peaked woman with a fringe of red hair. “I'm Mina, Your Highness. Head of Foreign Relations.”

  The assistants come next, starting with Mina’s gawky male aide. The next person goes, and the next. All helpers in one way or another.

  I've been bored for some time. It's boring to listen to so many people talk and keep track of who belongs with what name and occupation. I always had a hard time concentrating when lecture time came. Hopefully Nash can give me a few pointers later that make more sense.

  A while later, the last person finishes. He is on the left, a ways from me.

  Nash looks at me like he expects something. They all do. Only problem is I have no idea what.

  “And your name, Your Majesty?” Yuka asks.

  A memory hits me so hard, I feel like I've been slapped—Daros telling me I'm worth nothing. Not even a name.

  “That's all for now,” I say, hoping it dissuades them from asking again. I could continue the meeting, but I’ve gotten more than I came for. “You're dismissed.”

  I stand, and they bow again. I leave, and Nash follows me out. Despite the steps forward I'm taking, I feel as lost and hopeless as ever.

  Chapter 13

  That night, as I ready for bed, I notice the sleeping gown the servants brought for me fits. I dismiss them and search my drawers. They're full to brimming. Someone—or several someones—must have worked overtime to get this accomplished.

  There are frills and fluff and too much volume. One dress could easily turn into five. Whoever picked out this wardrobe has no idea what I like.

  I sit on the bed. It's too soft. The floor would be better. Still, I don't move.

  Maybe if I lie down, I won't be able to fall asleep.

  No nightmares, then.

  I could go out and about again, but I'm too exhausted. What a day it's been…

  I give in and curl up on my side. I haven’t felt anything like it before. It's like being scooped up by a cloud. Last night, I slept the night sitting up against the headboard, too distraught to pay attention to the bed, but now it’s all I can think about.

  I toss and turn, grateful sleep isn't coming yet. If I hold off till I’m exhausted, I may be able to get some rest without horrid dreams.

  Not likely, but one can hope.

  I kick the covers off, and a cool breeze inches across my skin.

  The world is fuzzy again, like someone punched me in the head too hard. Only my head doesn't hurt. The haze goes away more quickly than last time, revealing the same lady in green.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  “Who are you?” she responds.

  “I don't know.”

  “Then I'm not ready to tell you either.”

  “Why do you keep coming to my dreams?” Though this is only the second one, it seems to be a thing with her.

  “I’m better than nightmares. Am I not?”

  With a sigh, I sit, hovering on something I can't see. I take a look around for the first time. There's nothing here but the colors of a sunset, blurred together like a cloud. It's a dream world, for certain.

  “What do you know of my nightmares?” I ask.

  “I know they're violent and leave you awake more than they should,” she says. “And I know keeping you from sleep keeps us from talking. I need you to sleep more. We'll progress faster if you do.”

  I don't want to sleep. Besides, I was trained to only sleep a handful of hours. “Progress at what?”

  “Are you going to start sleeping more?”

  The nightmares come to mind, and I shudder. “I can't.”

  “Then that's what we'll work on first—getting you to sleep more.”

  “Why do my dreams suddenly want me to sleep more?” I ask, trying to figure out what my subconscious is telling me.

  “It's no trick.”

  I almost ask her how she knows what I'm thinking, but then I remember this isn't real. Of course my own mind knows what I'm thinking.

  “If you're not stronger, I won't be able to hold the nightmares off. That will cause problems for the two of us.”

  “You're holding off my nightmares?” I want it to be true, but how can my imagination do such a thing?

  “With a little bit of magic.”

  I gasp. “Magic? I thought it was extinct.”

  Why would my subconscious conjure that up?

  “It isn't gone. It's almost everywhere now, from what I gather. There's a little that controls this country, though. If you think long enough, you'll know what it is.”

  Why are my thoughts taking me here? I haven’t thought of magic before.

  “Maybe you should. After all, it governs your life now.”

  “You mean the chalice? The Mortum Tura?”

  “Very good. You're a quick learner,” she says. “The Mortum Tura has magic. Its influence will grow every time you drink it.”

  How do I know all this? I could be making it up.

  “But you're beginning to believe I'm something other than you, aren't you?”

  I don't need to answer that for her to know what's going on.

  “I knew you were a quick study.”

  “Do I want to drink the Mortum Tura as often as I can?”

  “Yes, but be careful. It's a lot to take in at once.” She grows fuzzy.

  “Wait. We were just getting into our conversation.”

  Her voice grows fainter. “Which is why you need to get more sleep.”

  She fades o
ut altogether, joining the colors of the sunset.

  Chapter 14

  After last night, I could use some good news. Everything seems foggier this morning, but I still remember the strange dream. And the one before. It's the second time in a long while that I haven't had a nightmare. No blood. No screams. No tainted daggers. Just blissful silence.

  I should be grateful, but instead I'm worried. What is holding them back? And what if whatever it is stops and they return fiercer than ever?

  There's a knock on the door, and I wish Nash was here to answer it for me. My servants are gone. My fault for ordering them away, but they were bothering me with their constant pecking at me. There's no one to hide behind. Not that I ever needed to hide behind anyone.

  “Enter.”

  Nash strides in and closes the door behind him. I haven't seen him since I left the meeting yesterday. More like ran from it. He must have sensed my mood, because he left me at my rooms without a word.

  He sits in the chair he used before. “You did very well yesterday.”

  “Well? I can't remember a thing from it.”

  “We'll work on it. The important thing is you asserted your authority in front of all of them.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I'm nineteen.”

  “You talk like a forty-year-old.”

  “Only to you.”

  “And why is that?” I demand.

  “Because you chose me to be your advisor. I'm doing the best I can.”

  I want to compliment him on a job well done, but I hold back the awkward words. “How are we going to work on me not remembering who is who?”

  “One person at a time.”

  “You're very helpful,” I say.

  There's another knock on the door, and Nash answers it. “It's your ladies in waiting,” he says to me.

  “Tell them I'm busy.” Hopefully that keeps them away.

  He does so and returns to his position. “Let's start with those you do know.”

  “Ranen.”

  “Good. You know your furniture master. Who else?”

  Was that sarcasm? His straight face makes it difficult to tell. I shrug, wishing I had a way to be more confident. I remember faces and degrees of mistrust I felt for them; that's about it.

  “Let's figure it out. The first person introduced yesterday—do you remember what he looked like?”

  “Yes. Three chins and wig-like hair.”

  He purses his lips, like he's trying to keep from laughing. “And his name is…?”

  “T something. Tem?”

  “Timit.”

  “All right, Timit, then.” I’m grateful they didn’t introduce themselves with their last names too. Gives me less to keep track of.

  “Anyone else you remember?”

  “Something like a Minx?”

  Again, he struggles to control the twitching of his lips. “You mean Mina?”

  “Yes, her.”

  “Good. What does Mina do?”

  “Sit far away from me?” Though I’m not at all certain.

  “She does that, but why? What’s her position? Why does she matter to the state?”

  “Because she’s different looking than the rest?” With her pale skin and red hair, she has to be memorable in some way even if I can’t remember her name.

  “She’s Head of Foreign Relations.”

  I growl. “There's no way I can remember this all. Even if I do, what's the point?”

  “The point is you do your job.”

  “It's not a job I wanted.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “If you didn't, why did you drink the Mortum Tura?”

  “It's not like you'd understand.”

  “Try me.” His voice is dry.

  “I'd rather not.”

  He sighs. “For wanting me as your advisor, you sure don't give me a lot of information.”

  “You're the one who’s supposed to give me information,” I say, hoping to deter him from wanting to know me better.

  “But if you'd tell me more, I could give you better, more accurate information.”

  “I'm not telling you more, no matter how hard you try to get me to.”

  “It might feel good to open up to someone.”

  “I'm not doing it.”

  “I don't want to fight. Let's continue with the lesson. Who came after Timit?”

  I'd rather keep fighting. It's so much more interesting than politics. But we continue on with the names and positions anyway. How it all correlates together and what I need to do about it. Time creeps by at a pace a snail could beat.

  My answers become automatic, even if not always right, but I'm not focusing on what's going on. There are too many other things to worry about for me to care who is called what. Such as who's trying to kill me and how they’re getting to me.

  “And who is Jaku?” Nash asks.

  “That I remember. Head of the Guard. Arrange a meeting with him for me.”

  He lifts an eyebrow but says, “As you wish.”

  There's yet another knock on the door, this one a swift, sure two-pound knock. Nash moves to answer it. I straighten my shoulders and hold my lips tight together.

  Nash admits Ranen into the sitting room where I venture in, followed by several footmen carrying chairs and a sofa. I want to gush over how comfortable they look. Instead, I hold my position and let them take the old furniture away.

  “Where would you like the new furniture, my lady?” Ranen asks, voice brisk.

  “As it was before.” Because I don't know what else to tell him.

  A footman and Ranen spend the next several minutes rearranging the furniture. I have to hold myself back to keep from helping them. I'm not used to keeping from such tasks.

  Then again, I'm not used to a lot of things.

  When they’re finished, Ranen bows at me. “I hope Your Ladyship approves of the new furniture. I have begun to have new ones installed around the palace.”

  “Very well. You can go,” I say.

  He narrows his eyes at me, deep-seated anger burning in his gaze. But still, he bows again and makes his way out of my sitting room.

  “Finally.” I plop down into the closest chair. “Much better.”

  Nash remains standing, giving me a look I have a hard time understanding.

  “What is it?” I demand.

  “He's trying to win back your good graces, and you ignored all he's done.”

  The usual feeling of shame burns through me at having done something wrong, but I was taught long ago not to show it. “I don't care for the man.”

  “No one does, but he holds many favors from different people both in and out of government. You'd do well to treat him better. I fear you're making an enemy of him, and that could have dire consequences.”

  I shrug him off. “Let them try to kill me.”

  “They already are.”

  I clamp my mouth shut, looking for something to change the subject to. There's a glimmer as a ring on his finger catches the sunlight streaming in through the window. “Where did you get that ring? It doesn't seem like something a guard would have,” I say.

  He hesitates a moment. “It's not. It was given to me by my father.”

  “Do you mind if I look at it?”

  He holds his hand out to me. It's a silver ring, chunky and masculine even while it holds a ruby in the center of it. It's not gaudy, but neither is it plain.

  “Why would your father give you such an item if you have no cause to use it as a guard?” I ask.

  His hesitation is longer this time. “Technically, he didn't give it to me. He died, and my mother insisted I have it, as his only son.”

  I don't know what to say to that. I study the ring, wondering what stories it possesses. What it knows about Nash. “I'm sorry you lost your father. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  He drops his hand. “It was to almaca.”

  The disease that often kills those who contract it. “During the famine or more recently?”<
br />
  “It was last year.” His voice is so quiet; I strain to hear him.

  Yet another knock interrupts the moment. As Nash goes to open it, I resume my pretentious royal posture, hoping it's not Ranen back again. I'm not ready to play nice with him. I doubt I ever will be.

  Nash turns to me. “There's a visitor here to see you. He says he knows you, but he's not from the palace. He's got enough rank that he made it all the way up here and requested an audience.”

  I refrain from biting my lip. “I know no one.” Except one person. One I never wanted to see again.

  Nash lifts an eyebrow. “Should I send him away?”

  I open my mouth to say yes, but what comes out is, “No. Let him in.”

  My knees shake as Nash moves aside so the person can come in.

  It’s as I feared.

  My old master walks into the room.

  Chapter 15

  “Nash, out.” My knees shake harder, but I keep my voice firm.

  Though he looks like he'd rather stay, Nash gives a bow and is out the door.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand of Daros.

  My old master is in his prime, rounded but with hidden muscles. He has shrewd dark eyes under thick eyebrows. More worrisome are his hidden cunning and cruelty. “You didn't think I would stay away,” he says.

  “I left you, Daros. Washed my hands of anything to do with you.”

  “And yet, you came here. Took the Mortum Tura. Became queen.”

  I stand, pulling myself up to my full height. “I did what I had to do.”

  He smirks. “And look where it got you.”

  My knees shake so bad now, I'm afraid I'm going to fall back into my chair. At least my skirts are full enough to hide it. Never thought I'd be happy about such full skirts, though they’re also useful for hiding weapons.

  “What do you want?” My words come out more as a hiss than speech, but I can't help it.

  “What do you think I want?” He smirks like he has me right where he wants me.