Interlude

by Krista D. Ball

  Myra was stunned to discover Lord Allric's study was a ballroom. She was escorted in by four guards. She craned her neck to look at the room. An explosion of colour covered the ceiling with a fresco of Apexia as the loving goddess, surrounded by humans at her feet. Marble columns stood out from the walls every few paces. The floor was white marble. It must have cost a fortune. Ornate rugs hung from the walls, as did more framed paintings of what appeared to be generations of the royal family. The men were all triumphantly shooting, riding, and posing with their dogs. The women were all seated, looking posed, delicate, and oppressed.

  Myra checked the thought and reminded herself that the world of Taftlin was very different from that of her upbringing jumping around the elven islands, then later Wyllow and Ellentop. She should not judge the cultures of others.

  A large wooden table occupied one side of the room. Maps and books were spread out across it; one map in particular pinned down on the sides with books to prevent the edges from rolling. Wooden statues were strategically placed on it, though too far away for her to see any details. Ah, no wonder she was being escorted by the guards.

  At the back of the ballroom was a door, which led to a much smaller room. She looked at the shelves and cupboards and realized, with great amusement, that Lord Allric's office was in fact a linen closet for the grand ballroom. What was more amazing was that the linen closet was significantly nicer than the King's rooms.

  "Can I help you?" Lord Allric asked. Even sitting behind his desk, he was a huge man. His shoulders were broad and his hands bigger than any man's she'd ever seen before. As tall as Lady Bethany was, he must have been a head or two taller than that.

  "I am Miss Myra, Apprentice Knight and temporary personal messenger for Queen Celeste."

  "Who assigned you?"

  "Lord Kiner, sir."

  "When?"

  "Um, this morning, sir."

  "Stop calling me sir. I'm an elf, not a human lord."

  "Um, yes sir, I mean Lord Allric."

  He glared at her. "Training?"

  "Um, Ellentop, two years."

  "Are you even old enough to be here?"

  "I'm fifty-two, Lord Allric."

  "Then you are not an apprentice knight. Guards, get her out of here."

  “I have a note!” She exclaimed as the guards grabbed for her arms. “It’s from the Queen.” The guards stepped back and pulled their swords. Lord Allric grabbed his own sword from the side of his desk. In one fluid motion, he pulled it from the scabbard. The scabbard went flying to the ground, while his sword pointed directly at her chest.

  Panic gripped Myra. She whispered, “Breast pocket, under the jacket. The letter.”

  She lifted her arm very slowly and one of the guards tugged the letter out. He inspected it and then sniffed it. He gave Allric a stiff nod.

  Myra stared up at Allric. He really was a huge man. Apexia’s holy name, his hands were bigger than her head. Him holding a sword pointed at her vital organs did not diminish his size in the least.

  Another moment passed before he put the weapon back down on his desk. He idly picked up the scabbard and reunited it with the blade. He sat down. Only then did he nod at the guards, who also put away their swords. "What does the Queen want?'

  Myra's mouth was dry and it was difficult to pull her tongue off the roof of her mouth. "She would like you to attend a dinner party two days from now."

  Allric threw his head back and bellowed in a deep, rich voice, "I almost killed you over a dinner party."

  The guards joined in laughing and Myra, for her part, managed a rictus twitch or two that she hoped passed as a smile.

  "Tell the Queen I'm too busy for playing house."

  "But Lord Allric, the Queen insisted on—"

  "I do not care what she wants. She isn’t my queen.”

  Myra's jaw dropped.

  "Tell her I said that."

  Myra had a difficult time sorting through Allric’s emotions because hers were strained. What she could glean, however, did not match – Allric’s words were delivered with harsh mocking disdain...but his entire aura was of a man having fun. Was he mocking her? Did he think it was funny to pull a sword on her, a girl a third his size and centuries younger than him?

  He could have hurt her. This was not a joke. This was not the behavior of a knight. And Myra could not hide that annoyance when she said sharply, “Lord Allric, I am here on behalf of the Queen. She demands your attendance.”

  His eyes narrowed and Myra cringed, knowing she’d let her wounded pride snap at one of the most powerful men in all of the known world. He was a war leader, a general, the commander of the largest military, and one of her own countrymen.

  And she’d just sassed him.

  Oh, she was going to be put back on a boat tonight. She would never become a vowed knight after this. She’d ruined her only chance.

  Allric jumped to his feet, kicking his chair back from behind him. The force smashed the chair against the stone wall. He stepped around his desk and Myra fought her instinct to run as far away as possible from this giant, angry man.

  She chastised herself and said absolutely not; she would not show fear. Showing fear was how people knew they'd won. There was no coming back from that place. Her hands shook and her back muscles clenched, but she stood her ground.

  Allric loomed over her. "What did you say, Apprentice?"

  "I would like to tell the Queen—”

  "I do not care what you want to tell the Queen! You do not speak back to me! You are nothing, you little worm!"

  Myra snapped her mouth shut and stood rigid. She had misread Allric. How could she misread so many people all in the same day? She was half-Rygent, for Apexia’s sake. Half! Her real father was a reader! One of the reasons she’d been allowed into apprentice training was because of her strong sense of intuition and the ability to gauge the general emotions of those around her.

  Was it the air in this place? Was she ill? What was wrong with her?

  Allric circled her and stood behind her when he spoke. “Are you listening to me, apprentice?”

  “Yes, Lord Allric.” She used a meek voice.

  “Good. You will tell the Queen that I said no. Then, you will remember your place here. Now get out.”

  Myra twitched, but managed to nod and walk out of the room without running. As she did, she got a sense of uncomfortable amusement and curiosity from Allric. Was he testing her? Had he done that on purpose to gauge her reaction?

  What was going on in this place?

  ***

  Myra’s day did not improve. Sir Edmund Greyfeather said, in a tirade of vulgar adjectives, that he was not going to Celeste’s party without Arrago there and Celeste should have the good sense to know that.

  Lord Jovan ogled her modest breasts and asked her several times if they were done growing yet. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so physically uncomfortable. He was old enough to be her father.

  When she visited Lord Kiner, he and Lord Erem were eating supper together, surrounded by a mountain of paperwork. Lord Erem just glared at her, leaving Lord Kiner to do all of the talking. As soon as she mentioned dinner party he snapped at her and said she was interrupting important war business and he was “this close” to packing her up and sending her back to Ellentop.

  The emotions around her were so conflicting that she gave up even attempting to make sense of them. Her own exhaustion was taking over, from having walked end-to-end of the castle several times, not eaten all day, and really being in need of a good night’s sleep.

  By the time she reached Miss Lendra’s suite, Myra was decidedly beaten. She knew she was going to be sent back to Lord Jud with a disgraceful first impression. He already couldn’t stand her, so he’d gleefully sign for her expulsion. Then what? Back to tutoring with the other Elorians for another couple of decades, followed by a dull job serving the clergy. Then, at two hundred, she could look forward to marrying a man she’d never met and giving him a couple of chi
ldren.

  She didn’t even really like boys in that way – not yet, in any case.

  At least Miss Lendra didn’t act like an unhinged alley cat. She also had the only legitimate excuse, in Myra’s opinion. Lendra was suffering from a horrible cold, did not wish to expose the Queen to illness, so offered her excuses. Then she sneezed all over Myra. Several times, apologizing profusely as she did.

  She never found Lady Eve, though Miss Lendra was good enough to say Eve was probably in the field or with the main force down near the docks.

  Thankfully, the Queen was not in her suites. Myra asked the butler if she could leave a note, and did so. She politely explained how she was surrounded by the most emotionally unstable people she’d ever met and if this was what war did to people, she wanted no part of it.

  Of course, a lot politer.

  Myra made her way back to the barracks. It was well into the evening and she was exhausted. She was still unsteady on her feet, and the motion sickness of weeks on board hadn’t left yet. She’d report to the Queen in the morning. She stumbled to her bed and climbed into it. The screams of the person under the blankets frightened Myra so much that she fell backwards, hit the floor, and then promptly hit her head on the bunk behind her.

  “What in Apexia’s name are you doing?” shouted the woman in the bed. She was a full Rygent, with dark skin and pale swirls on her arm.

  “I’m so sorry. I thought this was mine,” Myra said, rubbing the back of her head. “Ow.”

  “It’s my bed until nine tonight. Is it nine yet?”

  “Um...it’s more like five?”

  “So why are you disturbing my sleep? Apexia’s ass, I just got back from four days combing the coastline for Magi. Do you have any idea how tired am I? I’m on guard duty tonight because all of you useless pieces of recruit shit need a babysitter, so I have four precious hours to get some sleep before I work all night in the fucking freezing rain. And now you’ve ruined that because there’s no way I’m going to get back to sleep. I hope you’re happy.”

  Myra noticed the Blessed Bow in bed with the woman. Hanging from the nail on the side of the bed was a sash with the sewn rank of vowed knight, with several more bars showing her years of service. Under that, numerous war decorations were attached.

  And under all that, was the red bar of fabric to show she was one of the elite field commanders.

  Oh, shit.

  “I’m Miss Myra, Apprentice Knight. I apologize, Lady...Lady...?”

  “Eve,” the woman said. She had a rich voice that was deeper than most women’s. It made her seem significantly scarier than most women. That might also be due to the look of complete fury in her eyes.

  Myra decided this was not the best time to deliver her message. “I didn’t realize I was sharing a bed. It was my misunderstanding.”

  “You’re new here?”

  Myra nodded.

  “Well, Miss Myra who is new here with her fancy Ellentop accent, those of us who have been here since the beginning don’t give two pennies’ notice to some little brat come up from a warm bed and a full tummy every night.”

  “I never meant to imply—”

  “I remember five of us sharing one blanket between us while the snow was piled all around. But you show up thinking you get your own bed! Isn’t that precious?”

  “No, I simply meant no one told me, or else I wouldn’t have dreamed of interrupting your sleep.”

  “Get out of my sight.”

  “Yes, Lady Eve.”

  Great. She’d now officially pissed off every single important person in all of Taftlin, excepting the Queen. Hopefully she could convince the Queen tomorrow that a fever had overtaken everyone and it was affecting their behavior.

  ***

  Myra found an empty bed on the opposite side of the ballroom-barracks, as far from Lady Eve as possible, and crashed there. She didn’t know where the dining hall was located and was simply too tired to find it. Plus, she was too nauseous to do anything but lie down. For now, precious sleep.

  Ice water hit her in the face. Myra shrieked and bolted upright in her bed. Her heart thudded until it hurt. It took her senses a moment to adjust to what was happening.

  Queen Celeste stood in front of her bed with a sour expression. Next to her, two servants waited with buckets. “Again,” she said and the second servant hurled another bucket of freezing ice water at her.

  Myra gasped and gagged.

  “I don’t know how they do things where you are from, my dear, but in Taftlin you do as the Queen commands. I gave you a task. Writing a cowardly note saying you failed is not completing the task. I don’t care that you only arrived today. I don’t care that you’re young. All I care about is that my messengers do their jobs. You cannot do that while napping in the middle of the day.”

  Myra continued to gasp and her heart threatened to explode in her chest. Her vision was blurry and it was difficult to speak. She did manage to croak out, “Yes, Majesty.”

  “Now, you will do everything within your clearly limited power to get all of those useless knights to my dinner party. Have I made myself clear or do those ears reduce your hearing as well, points?”

  Myra’s eyes shifted to the many elves around her, who were staring, confused, at the Queen. The Queen had just used a slur; no one ever called an elf – or an Elorian – “points.” It was just not done. And the Queen of Taftlin had said it in a room filled with elves.

  To her.

  Then the most peculiar feeling hit Myra: self-loathing. Queen Celeste had hated using that word. She was embarrassed at having caused such a scene, but was resolved to carry it out.

  Myra had travelled here with hundreds of other apprentices, militia, regulars, and knights. She was the only non-knight to be brought to the Castle. She was one of the very few to be brought to Lord Kiner. From what she could tell, she was the only one working today.

  Why?

  “Did you hear me?” the Queen demanded.

  More embarrassment.

  Oh, of course. This was all a training mission. They thought she was a little girl from Ellentop, with an infamous mother and an important father, so they wanted to see how good she was. Everyone was acting differently than she expected...because they were acting. All of them.

  Myra inclined her head deeply to the Queen so that she could wipe the smile off her mouth. “As clear as day, Majesty.”

  Myra thought frantically. If this was a test, then how could she pass? The dinner party. It all came back to the dinner party. She had to find a way to get them to accept the Queen’s invitation. That seemed impossible.

  “I don’t care what you have to do, get them to come. Are you smart enough to do that?”

  Myra flicked her gaze up at the Queen and met her eyes. Celeste was trying to give her a hint. Of course! She had to find a way to manipulate and maneuver them all into agreeing. If they were all in on the game—she was increasingly certain they were—then they’d know she was a half-Rygent reader.

  “Whatever you command, Majesty, I shall accomplish.” Myra looked into Celeste’s eyes and said, “Beg, borrow, and bribe, I will have them all there.”

  Celeste’s mouth twitched and for a moment she looked like a woman about to burst into laughter. Her emotions were enough for Myra to sense that that was indeed the key: she’d just have to satisfy them with her performance.

  Celeste inclined her head and turned gingerly away, bucket-carrying servants in tow.

  Those remaining stared after the Queen and then back at Myra. One elf said, “I’ve never heard the Queen say anything vulgar against anyone!”

  “She is pregnant,” said a human woman, as if that dismissed everything. Looking at Myra, she asked, “What in Apexia’s name did you do?”

  Myra held up a hand for silence as she raced through her thoughts. Every single person on Celeste’s list had acted oddly. Their emotions were not consistent with their behavior, nor even their reputations. And they were worried she’d discover that. Oh
! They were purposely putting her off her guard to rattle her.

  This was first-month training all over again and she’d fallen for it!

  Why else would Lady Bethany start talking about her breasts? Of all things to talk about, that was the last thing Myra would expect from her. Likewise Lord Allric threatened to kill her, for what? Pulling a letter out of her pocket? She was tiny next to him, and even if she’d been armed with a dagger, one swing from him and he’d knock her out.

  And Lord Jovan’s comments! Now that she looked back, he’d been genuinely uncomfortable. She’d let her own insecurities over her growing body tell her he didn’t like what he saw, but of course he didn’t like it! She was a young girl next to him. And, now that she thought about it, he never actually stared at her.

  Because he didn’t actually want to leer at her.

  Oh, she was an idiot.

  They’d given a bunch of clues in their reactions. She was supposed to take all of those puzzle pieces and put them together. She wanted to work for the elven spymaster, did she not?

  “Everyone, I need your help,” Myra said. “I need every piece of gossip there is about the senior knights. Everything you’ve heard. Everything you’ve seen.”

  Chapter 4

  After much consideration, Myra decided Lady Bethany was the key. Either she was going to be the easiest to impress, or the hardest. Regardless of all that, she was the one Myra was the most intimidated by, so she needed to go there first.

  Her bunkmates had plenty to say about Lady Bethany. She was a battle-hardened woman unafraid to beat the piss out of guards who fell asleep on duty. Rumors included a drinking problem, an anger problem, a personality problem, and being one bad day away from snapping and killing all of the guards in her corridor.

  Myra sifted through all of that and listened to the other stories. How Bethany fought her own sister on the field of battle. How Bethany didn’t call out her own Power until she stood on a hill of corpses, her hands mangled beyond repair without divine intervention. And how Bethany exposed herself to the world’s gaze to save the lives of people she had sworn to protect.