The Vixen Queen (10.2)
Blue silk, thin as gossamer, cradled Aurora’s breasts and hugged her stomach below thin straps before it fell loosely to the middle of her thighs. An heirloom from her mother’s youth, she surmised that its previous use was in presentation before her father at their marriage’s consummation. Similarly, it was also the perfect, hypnotic piece for ensnaring Vasilica’s affections, physically and romantically. Beneath, her body was entirely bare and graced with perfumes of lavender essence, valerian extract, and domati.
Her eyes gleamed like topaz as she admired herself in the armoire’s mirror while Ester finished brushing her hair. Every now and then, the poor chambermaid glanced over her shoulder towards both doors, finding no comfort in the Brigada which stood by either one, or the turned Knights just outside.
Aurora shared an empathetic frown in the reflection, and reminded the servant gently, “No one will hurt you here. Not even my father.”
Nervous eyes met hers before returning to their task as the woman’s cheeks twitched. An uncertain, but grateful smile was given in reply.
Aurora couldn’t blame her for cleaving to the nightmares. For the last year, she had borne the brunt of her King’s grief, drowning in the depths of his ever darkening soul. Physically, mentally, emotionally, the poor woman had been bombarded with displaced and projected sorrow. Even now, safety was antithetical to fact. Those doors, the spells upon them, and the soldiers that stood sentry on either side, were as nothing to the monster whose word and action were dogma in these halls. He was ever present, a looking shadow around every corner, cast across every wall.
It was a feeling Aurora knew well, accepting reality as a permanent terror rather than hoping for deliverance; for the former was reasonable and grounded in fact, and the latter…in delusion. It was far easier, though, to defy the oppressions of trauma as a princess than a servant, and easier still to all but forsake them as an ascendant’s vessel. Rirris was intimately familiar with that plight, too. All she felt for tens of thousands of years was pain: the emptiness of being shorn from her kin, the broken bond between father and daughter, the outrage of betrayed promises.
Pity squeezed her chest, tugging at her tear ducts as she pivoted on her sandaled heels and took Ester by the shoulders. Behind that doleful face was a woman still accepting relief, mind hardened in preparation for yet more maltreatment, doubtful that Aurora — bold and uninhibited as she was — could ever protect her from what was still the highest authority in the land.
“You’re safe,” Aurora insisted, brows raised in both seriousness and empathy.
Ester nodded, doing her best to display her gratitude with an emotional smile. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She bowed quickly, brush clasped between the hands in front of her crotch. “You look beautiful.”
Aurora smiled wide and twirled back to face the mirror, hem fanning out before it came back to rest. Every detail had been deliberately chosen, stolen straight from the secrets shared by a man who had become a particularly devout convert, pledging his honor to a higher cause than his current employer. All it had taken was the right woman.
Ester giggled and the two met eyes once more, Aurora’s becoming crazed with satisfaction at the steady manifestation and joining of plots.
“Do you want to know a secret?” Aurora whispered.
“A secret, Your Majesty?”
“He’s going to fall in love with me. Genuinely, wholeheartedly in love. It’s already begun. We know everything about him. Everything. It’s all but assured.” The key around her neck rubbed between her fingers as tears welled in her eyes. “Finally…I’ll have someone that loves me again.”
Ester’s smile was joyful, a rare expression of pure happiness on the chambermaid’s face. “You love him, too?”
Aurora made to reply, then stopped herself and bit at her lower lip. The key’s chain extended out to its full length as she pondered the fact that in all her efforts to monopolize Vasilica’s love and loyalties, being loved had become more important than loving in return. Love — romantic or otherwise — was something that now seemed more distant than a year past. Rirris had ceased to know the warmth of love the day her father severed their familial bond. Even Zella was incapable of anything beyond her current nature, and the piety of her followers was no substitute. She couldn’t even fathom giving without receiving, without feeling whole.
Vasilica was a multi-faceted play besides. The power and wealth of House Baciu was necessary for consolidation. With Triseke and The Hintria united, the rest of the Jadar would fall in line, with only pockets of token resistance to handle. And after that: Bannergarde.
Distracting herself with the change in Ester’s mood, Aurora turned and took the woman’s hands, cupping them between her own. Instead of answering the question, Aurora sprang into execution. “Come on. There’s much to do before the picnic begins.”
She tugged the chambermaid along and made for the door to the hidden passages. Guards in tow, they made the winding journey between Balint’s Hold and The Stone Keep to patron its Lower Kitchen where the two newest members of its staff — Bran and Seth — were giving the royal chef, Agnes, a run for her money. The poor woman looked like she was about to pull her hair out. Upon seeing Aurora, she breathed a sigh of relief and came to her with the posture of a beggar.
“Your Majesty.” She bowed, then gestures towards Bran and Seth and began her petition, “these two are not fit for a kitchen. May I please relocate them to the slaughterhouses or butchers? Our preferred shop in East End needs more skilled staff and they seem quite too adept at both slaughtering and butchering for royal staff.”
The two young men shared excited glances, lips pursed, all other features raised. There was a collective holding of breath from everyone else in the kitchen as they hustled to make supper for their king and guests.
Agnes regarded them with a snarl. “Damn Ealanite savages! Should’ve been pirates with your nasty ways.”
The Queen Consort kept her face flat to hide her amusement. She should’ve known they would cause trouble — Slaughter and Butcher were capable only of killing and dismembering things — but it had worked out surprisingly well considering. After all, plenty of meat was needed for the wedding, and it was an easy way to keep them occupied until they were needed elsewhere.
Aurora rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder and consoled her, “I’m very sorry, Agnes. I thought they showed great promise in the culinary arts, I did not mean for them to confuse your menu.”
“It’s not just that, Your Majesty. They’ve been here two days and they’ve already fucked half the staff. It’s pushing meal times back. They’re menaces.”
Agnes wheeled around them and chastised one of the young scullery maids who was making flirtatious eyes at them both. A general haranguing was given to keep to their work with no more distractions. The crew obeyed fearfully, though Bran and Seth giggled like little children.
“My apologies, Your Majesty. Caught her with one of them at each end late last night. Right here in the damned kitchen. And she’s not the first.”
“Would be good to move them to that butcher shop, then. You have my blessing, Agnes.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she breathed, then turned and stabbed her finger in their general direction, happy to rid her kitchen of their corruption. “You two! Out! Now! I’ll deal with you once the Queen Consort is gone!”
Having been relegated to peeling potatoes to satisfy their desire to see things torn apart, they happily dropped their utensils and scurried out through the rear exit. Several sad faces followed them until Agnes glared at them, forcing submission. The chef released an emotional sigh in which her entire body seemed to drain of its tension, hand covering one side of her face as she stared off into nothing.
“Agnes,” Aurora called gently as she approached. “Is the spread for my picnic ready?”
It took a moment for Agnes to come around, but she snapped back alert and beckoned a few of her staff. On the east prep table rested a large wooden basket and blanket, which they took in hand and brought for inspection. Inside was a venerable spread of meats, cheeses, fruits, nuts, and honeycomb, along with two bottles of Gentillan wine and the appropriate utensils and dinnerware. The blanket was checkered blue, white, and honey brown, a collection of The Old Kingdom’s traditional colors.
With a nod of approval, Aurora left Agnes to recover her operations and led her three helpers out of The Stone Keep and into the garden, where her chosen clearing was remade into a romantic and sensual haven. The three returned to the palace upon request, accompanied by one of the Brigada who made her way to The North Wing to fetch the Trisekian prince.
