Jovari the Blue

Chapter 15: Imposters

Kastali Dun

Merrian sat silently on her throne—Queen Claire's throne. She offered the occasional nod or murmur of greeting as courtiers came before the king to sort out matters of importance. Court was held daily, with both morning and afternoon sessions. On top of those, there were meetings with the merchant's guild, various craftsman guilds, the lower council, and so on, and so forth. While she wasn't expected to attend everything, Reyr insisted on her presence for most.

Perhaps he was secretly trying to torture her?

"I heard you went into the city yesterday," Reyr said, looking out over the cathedral style hall. "To the Pauper's District, no less." His words were quiet, low enough to go unheard by others. They were taking a short intermission, thus, courtiers were socializing, freely moving about the throne room.

"I did," she confirmed. "Dallin accompanied me. As did the queen's guard."

"I'm aware." A long pause, then, "Dallin informed me that you visited the homeless shelters and spent time with their sick."

Her jaw clenched. She had taken a liking to Dallin, but she felt almost...betrayed that he'd reported her comings and goings. It made her wonder how much he'd told Reyr.

"I wasn't aware that spending time with the sick was a sin."

"It isn't. But I need not tell you how dangerous it is."

"Oh? I wasn't aware that showing compassion for our citizens was."

"I'm talking about your health," he hissed. Oh. Oh! So...he didn't know. Which meant Dallin hadn't told him everything. She was relieved to know that. It made their friendship more meaningful. "It would be inconvenient, should you take ill," Reyr continued. "Humans aren't blessed with perfect health. You cannot be risked."

A small scoff burst from her lips. "Firstly, Your Majesty, there are healers for that. I'm a queen now, apparently. I can afford even the most expensive healer, should I take ill." Unlike the poor folk in the shelters she'd visited. "Secondly, being a healer myself, it is unlikely that I—"

"What are you talking about?"

She laughed, because he really didn't know. "Princess Taylynn didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?" Reyr's gaze remained on the courtiers, tracking their movements.

"That I'm not human. That I'm a mage—a low level mage, sure. I have magic, nonetheless. Long life. The ability to heal more quickly than a human because my blood."

Reyr tensed beside her. He didn't like not knowing this. Perhaps if he'd taken the time to get to know her, he wouldn't feel so blindsided. "Be that as it may," he said, "there are already charities set up for the the lower districts. You cannot simply drain our coffers without following the proper protocol."

She rocked her jaw side to side, irritation clouding her vision. "Believe me, I'm well aware of the charities. Well aware of how well they actually serve their purpose. And you need not worry, Your Majesty, the money I spent yesterday was from my own personal account. You know, the one you pay into, so that I can be here, disguised as your missing queen?"

His eyes darted to her before quickly returning to the view before him. He had nothing to say to that. Good.

The throne room was called to order, as the steward introduced the next person to come before the king. She wanted to listen, to focus, but she was fuming. Her head filled with angry buzzing, like she'd stuck it into a hive of bees.

The next patron, a woman, spoke with the king for several minutes. A decision was made—Mer couldn't have said what. She clenched her muscles tightly, watching as the woman walked away.