A QUEEN’S PLACE

Amberhill’s abrupt departure did little to improve Estora’s humor. Feeling rather damp and chilled, she abandoned the gardens for the indoors, but she could not bear to return to the family quarters and her mother’s crowded chamber where the women must surely still be sampling the wines and dainties.

She often walked the castle corridors, especially when the weather was inclement, and after so long as a resident, she’d grown to know them well, from the dwellings of servants and the bustling administrative wing to the plush monarch’s wing, of which one day she would be an inhabitant.

She made now for the castle library with sure steps. Often it was a quiet refuge that few took advantage of. She could not imagine why, for it contained an impressive collection of books both rare and common, covering histories, herb lore, poetry, fiction, and more. She especially enjoyed leafing through ancient manuscripts, painstakingly lettered by hand and illuminated with bright inks and gold leaf. These eldest of texts were written in Old Sacoridian, so she understood very little of the content, but she was drawn to the artistry. The printing press, with its movable type, made books more widely available and in greater quantities, but they contained little of the visual beauty of their predecessors.

The library was located on the west side of the main castle, not far from the monarch’s wing. To her relief, she encountered few people along the way and those who she did simply nodded courteously as she passed by and did not hinder her.

When she arrived at the library, she found the great doors wide open, and bronze light puddling beneath the arched entry. Her silent Weapon slipped by her and into the library chamber to ensure no dangers awaited her. Perhaps a venomous bookworm? A tome of vicious intent overhanging its shelf ready to pounce on her head? She smiled and entered.

Whenever she stepped into the library, she always had a sense of the castle walls falling away, an enormous space expanding around her. The main chamber was circular with marble columns supporting a domed ceiling, which was painted with constellations, accentuating the feeling of vastness. Colorful book bindings lined the walls, starting from the floor and soaring up two stories. The upper levels were accessed by spiraling stairs and narrow walkways that looked over brass banisters to the main chamber below.

On each level, books on high shelves could be reached by rolling ladders. Despite the extensive proportions of the chamber, Estora was not intimidated, but rather seduced, for all the books housed there contained inestimable amounts of knowledge just waiting to be discovered and devoured.

She glanced about in pleasure, as she always did when entering the room, and found Master Fogg, a man of middling years, poised over his desk, scrutinizing a tall stack of volumes. When he noted her presence, he hopped off his stool and bowed to her.

“My lady! Such an honor to see you again. Is there anything with which I may assist you?”

“No, thank you,” she said. “I’m going to browse the stacks.”

“Very good,” he said. “Please call me the instant you have a need.”

“I shall.”

A fire blazed and flickered in the grand hearth which was tucked into an alcove. A pair of comfortable chairs were situated before it, a Hillander terrier sprawled across one of them, its legs twitching in a dream. With a start, Estora realized that where there was a Hillander terrier, there was likely to be the king. She glanced around again, seeing only a pile of books on one of the tables in the center of the chamber, and a black cloak draped across a chair. If it was indeed the king, then he must be in the long room beyond the main chamber, which was also filled with books.

Estora did not know whether to leave or remain, and while she stood there trapped in indecision, Zachary emerged from the back chamber bearing heavy tomes in his arms, followed by his Weapon, Fastion, who was likewise burdened. It was too late to leave now, for the king had seen her.

Master Fogg leaped off his stool. “Sire! You should have told me—I could have retrieved those books for you!”

“No need; Fastion and I are quite capable of carrying them.”

Master Fogg bowed and returned to his desk.

After Zachary set down his load on the table, he nodded to Estora. “My lady.”

“Sire,” she said with a curtsy. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I should leave.”

“Nonsense.” He rounded the table and approached her. He was dressed formally in black and she guessed he must have just returned from meeting with the Eletians. “I hope my presence won’t deter you from enjoying the library. In fact, I was just thinking of taking my tea here. Would you join me?”

Estora hesitated, taken aback. Hadn’t she complained that the two of them were so often mobbed they never had a moment for a quiet word? Though they were not precisely alone with the librarian and two Weapons present, this was as close to it they would ever get. Until they were married.

“Thank you, sire, I would enjoy some tea.”

The tea was sent for and Zachary scooped up the terrier from its chair and placed it gently on the hearth rug.

“There you go, Brex,” he said. The dog licked its paw and flopped back to sleep.

Zachary and Estora settled into their chairs and awaited the tea.

“You are doing some research?” Estora asked.

“I’m looking over what some of the old histories have to say about Eletians—even the legends. I’ve read most of it before, but I thought I’d go over it again.”

“They are a mysterious people.”

“And I’m afraid the books do not tell me much. Once there was more openness between our races.”

“Did your meeting not go well?” Estora asked.

A slow smile grew on his face. “I am under the impression they have preconceived notions of whom and what they are dealing with, and they know very well their ability to inspire awe in others. When the proper amount of awe is not exhibited?” He shrugged. “I do not fear them, though perhaps I should. It will take time for us to come to understand one another.”

Then to Estora’s astonishment, he told her in detail of his meeting with Prince Jametari. It was more than she ever hoped to hear about it, for her father would never tell her, and it seemed right that Zachary would. This was to be her role when they married, was it not? To listen and offer support?

Entranced by his descriptions of the Eletians and the world they created within their tent, Estora barely noticed when servants arrived bearing trays of tea and cakes. Zachary called Fastion over to confirm his recollection of events. Most astounding of all to Estora was the ultimatum Zachary had given the Eletian prince to join Sacoridia against Mornhavon, or to consider themselves enemies of the realm.

“Is that not dangerous?” Estora asked. “Will we not have enemies on two fronts?”

“The prince already stated that the Eletian people were ardent enemies of Mornhavon.” Zachary paused to sip his tea. “At worst, I think, we can expect no aid from them, but I don’t imagine they would have traveled all this way if they had nothing to offer. I believe the prince is caught between factions among his own people, and perhaps came here hoping to find a clearer path to support us. Or not. In the meantime, I shall not give them the pleasure of judging themselves as masters and lords over the will of the Sacoridian people or their king.”

Estora had not touched her tea. It no longer steamed and must be lukewarm by now. She had always held esteem for Zachary as her king, and never more so when just over two years ago he stood up to his brother, the would-be usurper of the throne, willing to die for the good of Sacoridia. He put his people and land before himself, and that said much for him as a monarch. And again, in his interaction with the Eletians he showed himself to be made of steel.

He sat there comfortable and at ease, slipping his dog a bit of tea cake. It was simple, she thought, for one to underestimate him, to find him soft and too kind, but it was the sort of mistake one made at one’s peril.

“It has been brought to my attention,” he said suddenly, “that you may be rather overwhelmed with relatives and wedding preparations.”

Estora could not hide her surprise. Who told him? Who had even noticed?

“Soon the gardens will be too cold an escape,” he said, “and I see there is no single place you have to call your own and attain true privacy.”

She could only stare at him, still unable to overcome her surprise.

“I’m afraid I have a sense of what it’s like,” he continued, giving her a wry smile. “But at least I have places where others dare not follow, and I have found one for you.”

She half rose from her chair, filled suddenly with an impulse to hug him, but her training as a lady tamed it and she sank back into her seat.

“Such a place I would find of great value,” she said instead.

He nodded. “I want you to feel at ease here, for this is to be your home. I want it to start feeling like home to you, that you have a proprietary sense about it. Shall we go see?”

“Go see?”

He stood. “Your sanctuary.” And he held out his arm for her.

She rose to her feet, trembling a little, and laid her hand on his forearm. “What of your research?”

“It can wait for a little while. A rare moment to speak with you without the hordes surrounding us is not to be discarded.”

Estora walked with him out of the library, the elderly terrier plodding behind them. They strolled the main corridor and though many tried to speak with Zachary, he waved them off or asked them to seek out his secretary, Cummings. The people bowed away, and others who saw the king and Lady Estora together murmured among themselves.

Eventually they made their way to Zachary’s study and halted outside the door.

“I hope it pleases you,” he said.

“What?” Confused, Estora glanced from him to the door.

He chuckled and opened it, and led her within. The chamber was light filled, but hollow, for all of Zachary’s furnishings and belongings had been removed, including the big marble-top desk. All that remained was a tiny pedestal table on which sat a vase of exotic and fragrant flowers.

Estora could only stand there speechless.

“The flowers were given to us by the Eletians,” he said, “but they seem more appropriate here, for you.”

“Your study,” she finally managed to say.

“It was my study, but before it was my study, it was always the queen’s solarium, though not used for that purpose since the passing of my grandmother. Now it’s yours to use and furnish as you wish, and I believe you will enjoy the access to the gardens.

Estora put her hand to her cheek in disbelief. “It—it’s wonderful, thank you.”

“My grandmother had other private places,” he said, “and here she often sat with her ladies at tea or needlework, gossiping away. They also played games and listened to minstrels, but you may keep the solarium as private or public as you wish. At your word, you may deny anyone entrance, including your mother and father.”

“I can? I mean…I mean I can.”

“Yes,” Zachary said. “You are a princess of the realm, soon to be queen. It will be your privilege to command even your family.”

Estora thought she would cry. To think this was all hers, and hers alone. Maybe coming to love Zachary as more than her king would not be so difficult after all.

“Inform Sperren of your needs,” Zachary said. “Furnish and decorate it however it may please you.” He stroked his chin, and mused, “It is as it should be, a queen’s solarium once again.”

She then took his hand into her own. It dwarfed hers, was solid and strong, and calloused from sword work.

“Thank you,” she said. “I cannot express how happy this makes me.”

“Your smile tells me much,” he replied. “And remember always, if there is some matter you believe requires my attention, no matter how trivial, that you come to me with it immediately. We have been treading separate paths, and it seems to me that we need to know one another better as our paths become one. Otherwise, I fear it will be a longer winter than usual.”

Estora’s heart fluttered. Was this the moment to be honest with him? To open up to him and reveal her relationship with F’ryan? She closed her eyes and trembled.

“My lady?” Zachary asked, concern in his voice. “Are you well?”

“Yes, I—” she began, but broke off, too terrified to continue. No, no, she thought. There is time yet. I am not ready. So instead, she said, “My lord, with your leave, I should like to look upon the Eletians myself.”

He froze and she perceived the first hint of a frown. “I am sorry my lady, but I cannot permit you to leave castle grounds. The Eletians are still too unknown an entity, and we must not put you in any danger, no matter how minuscule the threat may seem.”

“I will not be held here like a prisoner.”

“You are no prisoner, my lady, but the future of Sacoridia, thus a treasure to protect for your people.”

Now it was Estora’s turn to frown. “You believe what that old Huradeshian woman, that seer, said?”

“Whether or not she is blessed with a true gift of sight,” he said, “her words are wise. My lady, I must ask you to remain patient until we learn more of the mind of the Eletians, and then, if all goes well, you will more than likely see them up close.”

With that as his final word, he took leave of her, left her alone in the room, alone but for the flowers and sunshine. She gazed out into the garden.

I am a prisoner. I am a well-kept prisoner.

It occurred to her that maybe the gift of the solarium was to blunt her feelings of imprisonment, a bribe to keep her happy and distracted from thoughts of the Eletians, and maybe, despite all his kindly words, it was all Zachary intended for her. If this was the case, she despaired of him understanding her past with F’ryan.