The Queen of Ieflaria

by Effie Calvin

  “It should have been me,” she whispered into the lock. “Nobody would have missed me.”

  There were things, Adale knew, that people said at every funeral about the deceased. Even if the man in the casket was a drunkard who’d never worked a day in his life, upon his death, he would become the noblest soul in the entire kingdom, cruelly ripped away from his family and friends at such a young age. “Such a kind man!” they would all say to each other. “Kinder than any I’d ever met. Have you ever known such a gentle heart? And so wise, for someone so young. He was the best of his parents’ children. He would have been a great man, if only, if only…”

  They were the lies that had been told at every funeral since the beginning of time.

  But they had not been lies when they’d said them about Albion.

  “Crown Princess?” A servant—Odila, Adale’s memory supplied—was eyeing her nervously. “Do you require help?”

  Adale rose quickly. There was already a cramp in her knee from her unnatural position in front of the door.

  “No, no, I’m all right,” Adale lied, swiping at her own eyes, which had apparently become irritated by some dust.

  “If there is something you require, Mistress Abbing has all the keys,” said Odila. Then she scurried off, as though suddenly remembering an urgent task. Adale wanted to call a thank-you after her, but her throat felt oddly harsh. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself.

  “Crown Princess?”

  Adale turned around at the familiar voice. Esofi was standing there before her, attended by only one of her ladies.

  “Princess,” said Adale. “I thought you were going to the hospital.”

  “There has been a change in plans,” said Esofi in a tight little voice. “Are you…are you well? Have you been locked out of your rooms?”

  “What? I…” Adale looked at the door. “Oh. No. No, no. This isn’t my room. It’s…it is, or it was…Albion’s.”

  “I see,” said Esofi quietly.

  “I don’t actually know why I’m here.” Adale shook her head. She wondered what Esofi, who seemed to have so much trust in the gods, would say about Albion’s death. She wondered if she should ask, if it would make her feel better or worse. If Esofi said that it was all a part of some incomprehensible plan, Adale might actually slap her.

  And what if she blames me for his death? There was a chance Esofi had heard the story and already did, but perhaps she’d managed to miss it. Adale knew her parents blamed her, no matter what they claimed, and always would. It was strange to realize it, but Adale did not want forgiveness. She did not, and would never, deserve it.

  Esofi pressed her lips together, but she didn’t seem angry. She looked…thoughtful.

  “I still have those letters,” she said. “The ones Albion sent me.”

  “Oh,” said Adale. “I— Yes, I remember. You told me…”

  “If you would like to review them with me,” said Esofi, “I would… I think perhaps…it would be…”

  “Yes,” Adale interjected. “Yes, I would like that.”

  “Come with me, then,” said Esofi.

  They walked together to Esofi’s rooms with Esofi’s lady trailing behind them. Adale wondered where the other two had gotten to. Perhaps they were already in Esofi’s room, waiting for their princess to return.

  They arrived at Esofi’s door, and she unlocked it. Adale had only caught a glimpse of the inside once, on the night she’d brought the kitten, but now she went inside for the first time. It was not too different from her own rooms in layout, though it did seem to be more traditionally decorated.

  “Wait here,” Esofi told Adale and then vanished through the door that Adale supposed led to her private rooms. Esofi’s waiting lady sat down on the sofa and smiled brightly.

  “What was your name, again?” Adale asked.

  “Mireille of Aelora, Your Highness,” said the girl. Then she leaned in a bit closer to whisper to Adale. “She likes you, you know.”

  “Oh,” said Adale, taken aback. “Does she?”

  Mireille nodded knowledgeably but said no more.

  “Where is Lexandrie?” asked Esofi, returning with a bundle of old papers in her hands. The kitten was balanced on her shoulder, looking around at everything with bright gray eyes as though trying to decide where to spring to first.

  “Not here, I think,” said Mireille, not sounding too concerned. She found a sewing bag on the floor and plucked a half-completed embroidery piece from it. “Maybe she’s trying to get some Ieflarians to fight over her glove.”

  Adale had no idea what this meant, and neither Mireille nor Esofi chose to elaborate. Esofi settled on the opposite couch, her skirts fluffing up around her like a great wave, and began sorting through the letters.

  “I’ve all but the earliest ones,” murmured Esofi, more to herself than Adale. “Sit beside me. They’re all in Ieflarian, so you won’t have any trouble reading them.”

  Adale took the seat next to Esofi. The princess’s elaborate dress kept her from getting as close as she would have liked, but it was still closer than they’d have been allowed if they were in public. Adale glanced at Mireille, but the waiting lady seemed focused only on her embroidery, though she appeared to be having difficulty keeping down a smile.

  “Here’s one where he wrote of you,” said Esofi, passing a sheet of paper over to Adale. “You see? He says you two went riding together.”

  Adale checked the date on the letter and saw that it was almost five years old. She did not remember the day or the ride, but there had been so many like it that she supposed remembering one specific trip would be impossible.

  “I really must organize these,” sighed Esofi. “I was reading them on the journey and now they’re all out of order.”

  “Give me another,” said Adale, suddenly feeling as though she was starving. “Any one, it doesn’t matter, I don’t have to be in it.”

  Esofi gave her another piece of paper, and Adale read every word, though most of it didn’t make as much sense as she’d imagined it would, as it all responded to a conversation that Adale had never seen. But it was still a wonderful gift, proof that Albion had once been real and alive and loved…

  Dearest Esofi, all the letters began. His handwriting had always been so much better than hers. Adale wondered how Esofi’s letters back to him had been addressed. Dearest Albion, maybe? Or perhaps more formally than that, knowing Esofi…

  Esofi had gone silent. She was staring at another letter and blinking very quickly, over and over and over again.

  “Mireille,” said Esofi at last, her voice oddly shaky. “Water, if you would…”

  Mireille was up immediately, hurrying all around the suite to find a pitcher for her princess. But it seemed there was nothing to be found.

  “Ridiculous!” cried Mireille. “Do they wish you to die of dehydration? Give me just a moment, Princess. I’ll find you something…” And she left the suite.

  Adale felt a little jolt of surprise as the door clicked shut behind her. She and Esofi were alone. Surely, Esofi felt that it was inappropriate…or perhaps her thoughts were on other things.

  Esofi removed the kitten from her shoulder and set it down in her lap.

  “Do you like him?” Adale asked. When Esofi looked at her in confusion, she added, “The kitten, I mean. I…probably shouldn’t have given you a live animal without asking. I…I’m not very… I’m sorry.”

  “I do like him,” said Esofi, one delicate gloved hand stroking the kitten’s back, which arched under her touch. “We’ve decided to call him Cream.” She set the pages down and looked at Adale. “Besides, I think a little bit of spontaneity won’t hurt me.”

  “Oh,” said Adale. For some reason, she was having trouble coming up with a suitable response. Esofi was so close, and they were alone, finally… Should she do something? Was Esofi expecting her to do something? Had she and Mireille planned for them to be alone? Or…maybe not. Maybe Esofi was frightened and uncomfortable and af
raid Adale might try something inappropriate.

  She’ll beat you even more easily than she beat Theodoar. Realistically, she was in more danger from Esofi than Esofi was from her.

  “Your cousins mean to court me,” said Esofi. It was not a question.

  “Yes,” said Adale. “Who told you?”

  Esofi shrugged. “I guessed. You already told me they would be suitable candidates. It seems they’ve had the same idea.”

  “Yes, but I’ve changed my mind,” said Adale. “I mean to marry you.”

  “So you say,” murmured Esofi, gazing up at Adale through her eyelashes. Adale very slowly brought one hand up to cup the side of Esofi’s face, half expecting the princess to scream or slap her.

  “Mind the powder,” said Esofi very quietly. “You’ll have white hands.”

  “I don’t mind,” Adale replied, suddenly feeling as though she was in a dream. She brushed her thumb across Esofi’s lips, the gesture leaving a little spot of pink color on her fingertip. Esofi closed her eyes.

  “Shall I stop?” whispered Adale.

  “No,” breathed Esofi.

  Adale leaned forward and pressed her lips to Esofi’s. Everything about her was soft, as if the princess was made of nothing but feathers and cream. She was warm, too, and Adale wanted to pull her close, to press their bodies together. But perhaps that would have been pushing her luck a bit too far, and besides, the complicated and alien Rhodian dress left her uncertain.

  “Crown Princess,” murmured Esofi against Adale’s mouth. She was not returning the kiss, but she wasn’t resisting, either. It occurred to Adale that the princess had no idea what she was meant to do in this situation.

  Adale broke the kiss, and Esofi opened her eyes. Most of her lip paint was gone, but she didn’t seem to have noticed.

  “I-I’m sorry,” said Adale awkwardly. “I…”

  “Do not be,” said Esofi. “If I’d wanted you to stop, I would have said so.” She took Adale’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Or do you regret it already?”

  “No!” cried Adale. “Not at all. Not like that.”

  “Good.” Esofi gave a small nod. Adale couldn’t see her moving, but Esofi seemed to somehow be sitting nearer to her than she’d been just a few minutes before. Esofi’s other hand moved to touch the side of Adale’s face. The texture of her lace glove felt odd against her cheek.

  “You never wear powder,” observed Esofi.

  “No,” said Adale. “I’ve never liked it.”

  “Mm,” said Esofi. “Perhaps you’re wiser than I. The trouble is, once you begin wearing it, you can never stop, or people will think you’re ill.”

  Adale laughed, and Esofi withdrew her hand. “But then you must not have any trouble pretending to be sick when you want to get out of something.”

  “Get out of something?” Esofi repeated.

  “You know. Ceremonies. Or services.”

  Esofi blinked up at her. “Oh. I suppose I never thought of that.” But fortunately, she didn’t seem offended or annoyed by the implication that she might want to shirk her responsibilities. “I suppose anything I would have wanted to avoid involved my siblings, back in Rhodia.”

  “You have many siblings, don’t you?” asked Adale. She couldn’t recall where she’d heard that, but it sounded correct to her ears.

  “Yes,” said Esofi. “Two brothers, three sisters.”

  “And you weren’t close to any of them?”

  “No. I suppose I wasn’t.” Esofi looked distant. “I always knew…we all knew…that I would be leaving someday. We never discussed it, but I think we all decided it would be easier for everyone if I just…”

  “That’s not right.” Adale was suddenly angry on Esofi’s behalf. “You didn’t deserve that, you should have been—they should have done the opposite, if they knew they were going to lose you!”

  “Perhaps,” said Esofi.

  “What about your parents?” asked Adale.

  Esofi swallowed visibly. “My father is a good man,” she said at last. “Our people love him for his patience and understanding.”

  “And your mother?”

  “Oh, they love her too,” said Esofi in a brittle tone. “Everyone loves her.”

  “I am sorry,” whispered Adale.

  Esofi seemed to brighten a little. “Never mind that—I am free of them now. Ieflaria will be my home from now on. I will have another family, a better one.” Her fingers tightened around Adale’s.

  “A family,” repeated Adale. “Do you mean…?”

  “What?” asked Esofi.

  “Everyone is wondering about heirs,” Adale said. “I suppose…there is the Change.” The Change was a ritual performed by the priestesses of Dayluue. Most people tried it at least once in their life just for the novelty, though it wouldn’t last for very long unless the person being transformed had a soul that was willing to remain in its new body forever.

  Adale knew her own soul was not willing, but a few hours would probably be enough time. Other women had managed it.

  “Ah,” said Esofi. She suddenly seemed nervous. “I did not think you were ready to speak of such things.”

  “Maybe I’m not,” admitted Adale. “Maybe I won’t be for a few years yet.”

  “We have time.” Esofi looked distinctly relieved, and Adale wondered if she was dreading the possibility of children just as much as Adale was. “When you are ready…”

  “And if I’m never ready?” Adale regretted the words as soon as she’d spoken them, even though they were, as far as Adale knew, the truth.

  “Then we never will,” said Esofi. “There will be other heirs, other families. Your line will not die out with us. I’m sure the older nobles and your parents’ advisors won’t like it, but they cannot force us.”

  “You are truly certain you will not become impatient with me?” asked Adale.

  “I swear it before Iolar and Talcia and any other gods who may be listening,” said Esofi firmly. She still had not released her hold on Adale’s hand. “I am in no more of a hurry than you are.”

  “Oh,” said Adale. “I thought perhaps…some noblewomen want nothing more than to start producing heirs.”

  “Not I,” said Esofi. “There are so many other things to accomplish, after all. We’ve no shortage of children in the world. What we do have a shortage of is battlemages.” Esofi looked guilty. “Perhaps I should have gone to the temple today.”

  “Why didn’t you?” asked Adale.

  Esofi glanced down at the kitten in her lap. “Selfishness, I suppose.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I was curious about your cousins,” Esofi admitted. “I’d hoped to encounter them today to see for myself what they were like, but they retired to their rooms so quickly, I could not even catch a glimpse. I know I should be focusing on the establishment of the university, but I’ve been spending so much time on it, I thought a single day away wouldn’t harm anyone.”

  “And has it?” asked Adale.

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Esofi gave a little shrug. “Still, I shouldn’t be indulging myself so. Ieflarians die every time a dragon attacks. I should—”

  “I don’t think one day will make a difference when the university hasn’t even been built yet,” pointed out Adale.

  “We cannot know,” Esofi said. “And now I find myself wondering if we should begin classes without the building. Construction will take a year, at the very least. But if we can begin training people earlier…it might make a difference.”

  “Well, the day is not done yet,” Adale said. “Perhaps you can still go. Skip the hospital and go straight to the Temple of Talcia. They’ll be delighted to see you, I’m sure. And I can…I can accompany you if you like.”

  “Yes,” said Esofi, her fingertips playing across the surface of Adale’s palm. “I—only if you want to, though. I know you are…not so comfortable in temples.”

  “It’s not the temples as much as the services,” admitted Adale. “
But nevertheless, I will go with you gladly. I want to be where you are. Wherever that is.”

  Esofi reached out and touched Adale’s face again, her open palm resting against Adale’s cheek. Adale leaned in, wrapped an arm around Esofi, and pulled her close enough to press their foreheads together. Esofi’s lips were irresistibly close, and Adale kissed her again. This time, Esofi returned the kiss, though she still seemed a bit uncertain.

  Adale broke the kiss for a moment so that she could kiss Esofi’s nose instead, which earned her an adorable little giggle. All the anxiety seemed to have left Esofi’s body, and the princess curled closer to her, so close that Adale could feel Esofi’s heartbeat, slow and rhythmic, against her chest.

  “You’re so beautiful,” marveled Adale.

  “You truly think so?” There was genuine doubt in Esofi’s voice.

  “I do,” said Adale, trailing one hand down Esofi’s back. “But surely you hear that all the time?”

  There was the sound of someone fiddling with the lock outside, and Esofi immediately straightened up. The two disentangled rapidly, returning to their original sitting positions within a matter of seconds. A minute later, the door opened, and in came Mireille balancing a tray with a pitcher of water in one hand.

  “Here I am!” she cried cheerfully. “So sorry for the delay. I wasn’t too long, was I?”

  If Mireille could see the damage that Adale had done to Esofi’s makeup, she said nothing about it as she set the tray down on the nearest surface and began to pour out goblets of water.

  “Here,” said Esofi, picking up another one of Albion’s letters. Adale had almost forgotten about them. “This one mentions you as well, I think. I’ll be surprised if we don’t find half of them have your name in them somewhere…”

  Adale looked down at the letter but found that she could not focus on the words while Esofi’s body was so near to hers, close enough that Adale could feel the princess’s slow, measured breathing and see the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She wanted…

  Adale forced her attention back to the page in front of her. But it seemed that she was not the only one having difficulty focusing.

  “Mireille,” said Esofi after a few painfully long minutes. “I think I would like to visit the Temple of Talcia today.”