Interlude

by Krista D. Ball

  “What was this room?” she’d asked one of her bunkmates as she was shown her bed.

  “It’s the portrait gallery. The Queen said it needs improvements before she can let it be seen by guests without embarrassment, so castle guards sleep in here for now,” he’d replied. “I’d rather be here than outdoors with the poor bastards in the tents.”

  “It’s impressive.”

  “Wait until you see the Queen’s dresses.” He laughed. “I’ve never seen so much fabric in my entire life.”

  A servant in crisp white and gold livery soon arrived to escort her to Queen Celeste. She answered the quizzical glances around her by telling them all what her new assignment would be. She was surprised to be met with laughter and well wishes.

  “Is the Queen difficult?” she’d asked.

  “From what I’ve seen, the Queen is the only one who’s sane.”

  With equal parts concern and curiosity, Myra followed the servant to Queen Celeste’s drawing room. They made their way up winding stone stairs and down carpet-covered halls, and Myra was struck by the ever-increasing grandeur. She’d seen plenty of exquisite wainscoting in Ellentop and at the Temple, but this was different.

  This was the home of a queen and even the air felt different in this part of the castle. Then it occurred to her that it felt different because the air was warmer and drier in the Queen’s Wing.

  Castle Gree was a chilly place. She’d scoffed at her mother’s advice to pack as much wool underclothing as possible, but apparently Mama was right. As usual. Crap. Her fingers were blue from the cold and she noticed most of the elves and even Elorians wore gloves of some form. Most wore fingerless gloves or hand wraps. She’d ask where to get them once she was back in the barracks.

  “Remember, the title when speaking to the Queen directly is Majesty, not Your Majesty,” the servant instructed.

  “I understand.”

  “You will be referred to as Miss Myra at all times, as you have no rank of significance.”

  “My father is a junior member of the Elven Council and my mother was a sub-ambassador to the Rygent Islands.”

  “That has no weight here, as those jobs,” he spat the word, “do not come with recognized titles of note.”

  Myra had nothing to say in response to that.

  “Do not swear or utter any vulgar word in Her Majesty’s presence.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  The servant stopped. “Now, this one is very important, as a number of your countrymen struggle with this one. The Queen is never wrong. This is especially true when she is very wrong indeed.”

  Myra smiled at the obvious frustration the servant was feeling. She could only imagine the interesting conversations that had happened in this place between a four-hundred-year-old elf stuck in her ways and a young human Queen who was used to having her own way.

  They reached a pair of ornate wooden doors painted white and decorated with gold leaf. The servant swung them open with a dramatic flourish and stepped inside. He coughed once and then said, “May I present Myra, Apprentice Knight. Miss Myra, may I present Her Majesty Queen Celeste of Taftlin.”

  “Majesty,” Myra said, bowing at the waist. She remained in the position.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Queen Celeste said. Rustling fabric sounded until rich blue folds of cloth appeared in Myra’s vision. “Please rise. Come join me.”

  Myra rose and smiled at the Queen. She took in the woman swiftly. Young human, perhaps twenty. Very pregnant. Confident expression, but a little sad in the eyes. There was softness about the mouth and eyes that said she was kind whenever she could be.

  “I understand that you are my new liaison between the elves and myself,” she said with a smile on her face. “You must enjoy impossible tasks.”

  Myra kept her expression neutral as she walked alongside Queen Celeste. “I’m certain you are a fair and just mistress.”

  “Oh, I’m not the problem,” the Queen said with a chuckle. She motioned toward a small table near a small fireplace. A hoop with embroidery was on the table. Myra waited for the pregnant woman to ease herself down into one of the chairs before sitting herself. “I apologize for putting you on one of the most uncomfortable chairs in the entire wing, but these are the only ones I don’t need help getting out of.”

  Myra smiled. “Understood. I remember when my mother was carrying my younger sister. She threatened to sleep standing up, but then remembered her feet hurt too much for that.”

  “I understand exactly. Now, I realize this is your first day, but there’s something I need help with.”

  “Of course, Majesty. I am here for your convenience.”

  “Good. I am hosting a supper for several members of the Taftlin nobility two nights hence.” She dug into the folds of her dress and pulled out a small, scented sheet of paper. “I need you to ensure all of the people on this list confirm their attendance.”

  Myra scanned the list: Lady Bethany, Lord Allric, Lord Jovan, Lady Eve, Lord Erem...that would be easy. Same with Lord Kiner. “Who is Miss Amber?”

  “Allric’s wife.”

  Myra blinked. “Lord Allric is married?” She checked her surprise immediately. “I apologize, Majesty. I thought his engagement was called off.”

  The Queen grinned. “His engagement to an elven girl was called off. His elopement with a Rygent girl, however, was not.”

  Myra made a scandalized gasp. It was clear Queen Celeste enjoyed a little harmless gossip, so she went along with it. “I had no idea. What a fuss that’s going to make.”

  The Queen’s face lit up. “I know, right?”

  Myra let out a little giggle and turned back to the list on the stationery paper. Lendra was clearly Lady Bethany’s sister. Arrago was obviously King Arrago, Queen Celeste’s husband. “Who is Edmund Greyfeather?”

  “Sir Edmund is the Chancellor and an advisor to the King. He keeps rooms in the castle, east wing, on the third floor. One of my servants can direct you to his office, as can most anyone here.”

  Myra made a mental note. “I will deal with it immediately, Majesty.”

  “That would please me.” The Queen picked up her needlework. “Tell me, have you had any interaction with the others?”

  “No, Ma’am, um, Majesty. Forgive me. Ma’am is what we used in Ellentop.” Myra forced a smile, even if her palms were growing clammy. Damn. She shouldn’t have slipped.

  Queen Celeste smiled. “I wasn’t offended. Let me give you a word of advice when dealing with the others. Don’t let Bethany rattle you. Don’t let Kiner out-terse you. Don’t let Allric’s size intimidate you.” She put her needlework down. “Let’s see. Don’t let Jovan anywhere near your trousers. Erem is smarter than he looks. Lady Lendra is very young, but she’s very capable; don’t let her curls and smiles fool you. She has a temper that can match her sister’s.” She drew in a breath. “And don’t let Arrago and Edmund charm their way out of whatever it is you want them to do. They’re both puppies. Tell them what to do and they’ll do it.”

  Unsure of what to say, Myra replied, “Thank you for the advice.”

  “May Apexia give you strength, girl.” The Queen looked down at her needlework, dismissing Myra. She added under her breath, “You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter 2

  Myra decided the easiest acceptance to gain would be that of the King. She had to stop several people to ask for assistance, which was made more difficult by the fact that she wasn’t known by any of the guards. They harassed her constantly for proof of identity, but her little note from Celeste seemed good enough and Myra wound her way through the stairs and corridors.

  Castle Gree was a large stone-walled castle, though it felt too small for the number of people crowded under its many roofs. There was a generous mixture of humans and elves, along with many Rygents and Elorians. Everyone was busy, rushing around at their daily tasks.

  Myra was surprised by King Arrago’s rooms, for “rooms” was the appropriate word. T
hey were clean and well-cared for, but they were simple. She’d expect such rooms to house a housekeeper or a healer, not a monarch ruling a nation. The effect was even starker in comparison to Queen Celeste’s.

  She was introduced to King Arrago with significantly less fanfare, just a simple, “Majesty? This is Miss Myra, a knight apprentice working for the Queen.”

  “Nice to meet you. Come in,” he said, sitting at his desk, though he didn’t look up beyond a quick glance. Scrolls, letters, and books were piled before him. “Take a seat. Let me finish this before I lose my place.”

  Myra quietly took a seat while Arrago continued copying numbers down from a letter into a ledger of sorts. He let out a sigh and relief emanated from him. He put his pencil into the book and closed it. The letter he folded and tossed into a large wicker basket on the floor.

  Arrago looked at her for the first time and smiled. He clasped his hands on top of his ledger. “First day on the job?”

  Myra nodded. “First day in Taftlin, actually.”

  “The weather gets better, I promise.”

  Myra chuckled. “So I’ve heard. I’m actually here on a small errand for the Queen. Can I confirm your attendance for her dinner party two days from now?”

  Arrago groaned. “Who’s going to be there? If it’s more of her relatives, forget it.”

  Myra cleared her throat. “Um, no. Here, I’ll read out the list.” She did so, and saw Arrago’s expression soften.

  “Oh, it’s just the gang. Are any of the senior knights attending?” He was attempting casual, but Myra could tell that he was fishing for someone in particular. Though she couldn’t be completely sure, she was fairly certain it was Lady Bethany.

  “You’re the first I’ve approached.”

  “Oh, right,” Arrago said, deflated. “Well, try the others and get back to me.”

  “So you’re...undecided, Majesty?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “I’ll check with the others. Is there anyone in particular you wish for me to speak to first?”

  “No, no one. I mean, you should probably talk to Lady Bethany before the others. She’s not feeling well, so you should see her first before she gets tired.” He grimaced. “You don’t want to talk to her about a party once she gets tired. Trust me.”

  “Understood, and thank you for the warning.”

  Arrago plucked a letter from his desk, skimmed it, sighed, and said, “I look forward to your update.” Then he picked up a different book and began writing in it.

  ***

  Her next stop was the office of the infamously famous Lady Champion Bethany. Her palms grew clammy at the mere thought. Lady Champion Bethany was the reason Myra had applied to the Elven Service in the first place. Bethany was a war hero; she was a strong woman who challenged all elven cultural expectations. There were even rumors she’d taken a human lover—before being married...before having children!

  She’d also heard plenty of rumblings that Bethany was in fact Apexia’s daughter. Myra hadn’t put much stock in that until the news of the temple’s destruction reached Ellentop. Bethany stood against an entire Magical army and defeated it single-handed! She was everything Myra hoped to become.

  She absolutely had to be calm when she met Lady Bethany. She’d heard all of the stories about how unpleasant she was, how difficult to work with, and how demanding of those around her. Myra loved the idea that a woman could be that strong and command such respect and loyalty. Even those who hated her respected her. She’d earned her rank. She’d earned her reputation as a hero. She’d earned her position as someone to be feared, awed, and respected.

  She was what every woman should strive to be.

  Myra showed the letter from the Queen to the guards outside Lady Bethany’s office and knocked on the door. She waited, though one of the guards snickered.

  She knocked again.

  “Are you missing arms?” said a voice from within. “Open the damn door yourself.”

  The guard snickered harder. “Good luck.”

  Myra pushed the door open and stared slack-jawed at her idol. Lady Bethany was a tall, lean woman. Perhaps more gaunt than necessary, but even her forearms were well-defined and muscular. She was wearing leather trousers—men’s trousers, at that!—and two tunics with the sleeves rolled up.

  Her hair was...unique. The red frizz looked as if it had been cut with a dagger by a drunk.

  But it was the look in Bethany’s eyes that took Myra’s breath away. The aura from her told Myra’s intuition that this was a woman full of endless sorrow, brutality, compassion, confidence, and loneliness. No wonder she was a hero. And no wonder she suffered. Myra didn’t need any gifts to know that this woman had suffered.

  “Why are you staring at me?”

  Myra shook her head. “My apologies, Lady Champion. I...I mean, I...the Queen sent me.”

  “Oh, for the love of all that is sacred. Tell Celeste, no, I’m not sitting for her corset maker. My tits are happy where they are, thank you, Majesty.”

  Myra knew her jaw was hanging loose, but she couldn’t get it to lift back up. Finally she said, “Um, do you really want me to say that to her? To the Queen of Taftlin?”

  Bethany groaned. “Fine. I’ll write you a note.” Bethany sat down at her desk and began muttering obscenities to herself.

  “Actually, that isn’t why I’m here, Lady Champion,” Myra finally forced out. “I’m here to invite you to a—”

  Bethany pointed her quill at Myra. “No.”

  “I haven’t even finished what I was going to say.”

  “You were going to invite me to yet another one of Celeste’s soirees, or whatever fancy word she calls them. No. Absolutely not.” After a moment, she asked, “Who’s going?”

  This was the perfect opportunity to smooth things over. “You’re only the second person I’ve spoken with, but the King asked if you were attending.”

  Bethany rolled her eyes. “Then no, I’m not attending. Tell Celeste I’m sick. No, wait, don’t do that. I used that one two weeks ago. Oh! Tell her I’m having dinner with my sister.”

  “Your sister Lendra was also invited.”

  Bethany waved a dismissive hand. “Who cares? Tell Lendra I said she’s having dinner with me.”

  Myra mouthed a few silent words before finally saying, “Yes, of course. I will see to it.”

  “Good.”

  As Myra walked out of the office, she wondered what just happened.

  ***

  That could have gone better.

  Myra was disappointed. She admired the Lady Champion so much. It must have been her fault. She must have done something to offend her. But what? All she'd done was her duty. Perhaps Lady Bethany was the type to sneer at those lower than her. Bethany’s reputation was many things, but never that.

  Myra wasn’t a full Rygent reader, so she didn’t hear thoughts. She hadn’t felt any sense of anger or offense from the Lady Champion. Had she breached some etiquette rule that, being new, she’d not yet learned or been informed of?

  It could be simpler and far worse: Lady Bethany might indeed be a horrible person. That idea depressed Myra. Nevertheless, she had a job to do. A mindless, stupid, meaningless job, but a job nonetheless.

  She decided to go back to King Arrago and tell him that Lady Bethany couldn't attend, but still attempt to get his acceptance to the party. After all, he was Celeste's husband. If anyone would attend, it would be the husband.

  She was once again ushered into Arrago's office. "Majesty, I’ve just seen Lady Bethany, as you requested."

  He glanced up. "By the wide-eyed look of shock on you face, I can tell."

  Myra cleared her throat. "Speaking with the Lady Champion is...bracing."

  "Aren't you polite?" He put his pencil into the book and folded his hands on top of it. "So, what was her excuse this time? Wait, let me guess. Guard duty? No, she tried that a month ago. Training? No, it's been raining. She hates the rain. Oh! I know. She has plans with Lendra."


  Myra mouthed several silent words before saying, "Lady Bethany regrets she has a prior dinner engagement with Miss Lendra."

  "Bullshit," Arrago said. "Tell Bethany to get her bony ass to my wife's party."

  Myra narrowed her eyes. Arrago’s words, just like Bethany’s, did not match the feelings she was drawing from him. He was gleeful. Was that because he was insulting Bethany?

  "Um, I will attempt to do that in a more...polite manner, perhaps?"

  "She sees politeness as a weakness. You're dismissed."

  Myra blinked. The cold dismissal took her off-guard, because nothing had warned her he wanted her gone. In fact, Myra sensed he was embarrassed for his rudeness in even saying the words. Why did his body language and her intuition about his thoughts not match his words?

  He expected her to obey, however. So she said, "Of course, Majesty. Sorry, Majesty."

  She left his office not sure what was going on, but she was certain something was going on.

  Chapter 3

  Myra had miscalculated the entire King Arrago situation. She’d not been in Taftlin long enough to know any gossip, but...

  Could Arrago be the human lover of Bethany’s that people talked about? But he was married. Oh, what if they were lovers and he'd married Celeste to cement his throne? Oh Apexia's mercy, of course!

  She felt like an idiot. Going to them first was the worst possible step she could have taken. No wonder Arrago’s emotions had changed at Bethany’s name. And likewise, Bethany’s emotions changed.

  She should have gone to the others, then used the pressure of everyone else's attendance to force them to go. She’d been taught to see these things in training and she’d missed the most important one: secret love. This was amongst the first lessons she'd been given.

  Perhaps she wasn't as good as she thought she was. What was the point of being the top of her class and a half-Rygent with keen intuition for emotions, if she couldn't even piece together the tiniest of hints?

  Fine. She'd go to Lord Allric next. He was Bethany's commander and the leader of the Elven Service. He was a war hero. Not with Bethany's reputation, perhaps, but he was well-respected as an honorable, duty-bound elf. Even if his personal life was making him the cause of all gossip in Ellentop right now.