Her Rightful Place

47: The Assault

"Excuse us! Your Majesty! Your Highness! Your Most Illustrious and Noble Magnificence!" an unfamiliar voice shouts behind Monique as she, along with several other ladies-in-waiting, trails Queen Généviève and Laetitia, who was chosen to impersonate Mireille on account of her green eyes and dark hair, down one of the corridors of the Palace of Roses. They have just left the Royal Chapel for a brief repast, and Monique, at least, is far too fed up with the Feast Week of Meávée to be willing to converse with anyone. Queen Généviève and Laetitia stop and turn toward the voice, though, and so Monique reluctantly does the same, arms crossed to give herself easy access to the daggers in her sleeves, should she find a need to use them.

A pair of young men in Khandazarian dress approach them and bow deeply to the Queen and ostensible Princess. Thanks to the work of Monique and the other ladies, Laetitia actually looks passably like Princess Mireille, to those who have never met the one who is currently touring Vyrunia with the King. The girl has been trained well, too; her instructions for encounters such as this are to leave the speaking to the Queen and to faint if anything remotely alarming happens. Already she is trembling, ready to faint at the slightest notice. Her eyes are downcast and her hands folded, making her the perfect picture of a Vyrunian lady. Queen Généviève would never admit as much aloud, but life for her has been much more peaceful and pleasant with Laetitia standing in for her daughter, the imposter being much less headstrong than the genuine article.

"Forgive us our insolence in approaching you so boldly, Most Honorable and Beautiful of Women," one of the Khandazarians begins.

"Gentlemen, please. Such flattery is always too much, but particularly during the Feast Week of Meávée, it is deplorable," Queen Généviève chides them coolly. "Our praises and worshipful phrases ought to be reserved for God alone, in the proper ceremonies for His exaltation. You will address us as 'Your Majesty,' and our daughter as 'Your Highness,' as is proper."

"Please accept our humblest apologies, Your Majesty. We were unaware of the protocol regarding the correct form of address—"

"Of course such things would not be important in the training of ambassadors to another country." The Queen is not doing well at hiding her irritation with having to acknowledge the existence of Khandazarian ambassadors, and Monique is finding it difficult to keep a straight face. Mireille will not be pleased to know that at least some of her wit is owed to her mother, she thinks with great amusement. "What is your purpose in accosting us in a hallway like this, rather than meeting with us in the traditional way?"

"We have been waiting for days, to be received by yourself or your husband, in regards to negotiations for an alliance between our homeland of Khandazar and your marvelous country of Vyrunia, to be sealed with a marriage between Her Highness, your lovely daughter, and His Eminence, our Grand Chancellor. No one has seen fit to meet with us, and accordingly we have taken matters into our own hands and sought you out—" the other Khandazarian responds, since his colleague has done nothing but aggravate the Queen.

"Surely, gentlemen, you were informed that we are deeply involved in the religious celebration of our Lord and the Patron Saint of our marvelous country, and that we have no time to spare for dealing with lowly matters of politics when we are so thoroughly occupied with higher things."

"Of course, that is what your staff have told us, but we only thought—"

"On the contrary, gentlemen, we do not believe you thought at all. Our husband and his Royal Ministers will surely be willing to discuss this matter with you when the Feast Week of Meávée has concluded. It is not our place, as Queen, to be involved in such things."

"Perhaps the Princess would be willing to host an audience with us, to learn about her suitor, the Grand Chancellor of Khandazar?" the first Khandazarian inquires naïvely.