Something With a Prince

Chapter Four: The Queen's Behest

Tallethea

No matter how many times I reminded myself to drop them away from my ears, my shoulders bunched, feeling stiff and uncomfortable as I stood in the center of the throne room.

I hadn't slept at all last night, and after fighting my way down the tree outside Arlyn's window, my hands were both sap-covered and scratched. My descent down that cursed oak tree had taken an unfortunate turn, and before falling to the ground a branch hooked under my shirt causing me a nasty scrape. I'd burn that stupid tree down if I could.

What I am getting at here, is that I am clearly not fit to be seen by a Queen looking like...well, like I have slept three hours and fallen out of a tree.

Mama insisted she do my hair, adding to the scolding humiliation I was experiencing. I was a brute with daisies tucked in my braids, which were coiled in a chignon at the back of my head. Thankfully, I had won out and convinced Mama to let me wear my training attire. It seemed like a good idea at the time, showing up all uniformed and clean. But now, standing exposed in front of a court as impeccably dressed as the Queen herself, a silent part of me wished I had listened to my mother and put on something nicer.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who had found my attire to be ridiculous. A Lady on the far side of the court, standing far too close to Lansing to be innocent, kept giggling and whispering. My heartbeat picked up and I pushed down the flood of heat clawing through my chest. I reminded myself of who I was here for and how his reputation was on the line just as mine was. Regardless of his intolerable brother, Arlyn had trusted me enough to recommend me to his mother. One of the few women I look up to for everything. I was not going to let Lansing or any of his- You would think there is only so much someone could giggle about in a courtroom! What is so funny?

She looks so ridiculous with those daisies in her hair. I bet she fights with crocuses and commands soldiers with a saber of violets. Right, Lansing? Teeheehee. I'm wearing red rock dust on my cheeks so you'll notice me. I don't--

"Tallethea, were you listening?"

My eyes snapped away from the girl, who was now fumbling uncomfortably under my glare, and over to the Queen. My face flushed and I cleared my throat, "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I meant no disrespect."

The Queen nodded, her hazel eyes shining out across the expanse of the room. Even after all these years, she still looked the way I remembered. Her hair was streaked with more silver, but there was a glow that radiated through her, "I hope you aren't this distracted when you are in charge of my son."

I refused to pass a glance at Lansing, knowing full well he had gotten me into trouble once again. Instead, I took a breath and lowered my gaze, "No, your Majesty."

The Queen raised her chin, taking in the number of people in the room and, after a moment's deliberation, I watched as she rose out of the throne. There were no words or actions exchanged except a single sideways motion of her head. This somehow signaled a demand to the guards posted at the doors and within five minutes I was left in the sole company of the Queen and her sons. She didn't bother to sit down again but instead stepped down to meet me in the middle of the room. Each movement was a decision, from her footsteps to the distance at which she stopped in front of me. I watched her, exchanging my awe for respectful attention. My heart thudded in my chest and without thinking I looked at Arlyn. He seemed calm enough, but tension was settled in the flex of his jaw. He hadn't known this was going to happen either. Finding the Queen once again, I swallowed down the ball of anxiety nestled in my throat.

The room was completely silent. Then the Queen, with eyes shimmering like pools of light, graced me with the smallest informality: a smile.

"You have grown up well, Tallethea." She looked at my hair and I swore her smile grew the slightest bit more. Her fingers twitched forward, but she settled it down against her other hand. "You have your mother's beauty, and I suspect, her diligence."